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prael · 2 months ago

Text

Integrity

Newjeans Hanni x male reader smut

Happy Hanni Day!

Masterlist word count: 6,048 Kofi(donations/commissions)

It's a really long way to travel, and doubly so when you get fuck all from it. It's not like you were after anything ground-breaking—it's just a fashion show, after all.

It's about as close as you get to 'phoning it in' as a journalist. A few copy-and-paste interviews to accompany some snapshots of the season's latest designs. A couple hundred words, cut and run. Who wore what dress and who wore it the tightest. You could probably type most of it out on the plane without ever leaving your seat, and the public will still eat it up.

Somewhere over Austria, you mulled over that very fact.

Four days later, somewhere over Hungary, you're scrambling to do exactly that.

The whole thing is going fine. Fine, right up until it isn't. Maybe it's the sound of your fingers on the keys or the pocket of air that rocked the plane in that familiar gut-wrenching way, but her eyes are opening slowly. She's mouthing something, her fingers reaching around behind her, under the thin layer of blankets she is enveloped in.

"Are we there yet?" she murmurs, fishing her phone out of her blanket, sleepiness and all.

"Not even close," you say as flatly as you can, returning to a few words you'd been rolling over in your head for the better part of thirty minutes.

"What are you writing about?" She asks from down on her fully reclined seat that's moonlighting as a bed.

"You," you say with a small laugh, not looking away from your laptop.

"What about me?" Hanni's phone lights up, cutting through the darkness and finally making her face visible. The cabin is in full black-out since it's the middle of the night, and the dividers in first-class keep the two of you isolated.

"Your clothes, mostly. Generic fashion show stuff. Doesn't really matter. I put the names Gucci and Hanni Pham in an article and it sells itself. Instant clicks. S'like... two baits for one fish."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Probably is," you reply, knowing full well that there's little to be proud of in here. It's all surface level after all, since adding the things you know now might raise a few eyebrows. All the investigative journalism you've done over the past few days isn't exactly something you can write about. Though you can't deny it, an article about the beauty mark right below her waistline would probably send the masses into a frenzy.

You can hear her tapping on her screen a few more times, and with the silence in the first-class cabin at night, you find yourself focusing on those sounds more than your writing. Tap. Tap. Tap. Pause. Sigh. Tap. Tap.

"What is it?"

"Can't sleep," comes her whispered reply as she pushes herself up with that strange grunt you often hear her make, propping her pillow against the bulkhead and stretching out.

"Drugs not working?"

She shakes her head. "Not doing much."

"If my typing is too loud I can stop—"

"No, you focus. I'll find something to keep myself distracted." She locks her phone again and disappears into the darkness again, her soft breathing almost inaudible. Minutes go by. You manage a full two paragraphs before hearing her moving in the darkness again.

"Hanni?"

"Shh."

The slow shifting goes on for another few seconds, and in the darkness, you can make out the movement of her blanket as she slides off the chair down to your feet. What hits you next is her fingers reaching into your waistband.

"Hann—"

"Quiet," she whispers back. You quickly pick up the laptop from resting on your lap before her attempts to undress you can send it crashing to the floor. You're quick to place it on her seat and close its cover, out of her reach just in time before she slides your pants down.

She doesn't say anything, just lets you lay there in silence as her fingers guide you into her mouth. It is almost unnerving how used to it you have become in such a short time—how easy it has become for you, a supposed professional, to mix business and pleasure to this degree.

Hanni goes on unperturbed, wetting you between plump lips that trail up and down your length.

There is nothing you can do at this point but give in and just throw your head back. You grow harder under her touch and her tongue and judging by the way she grows more aggressive with her movements, Hanni is starting to enjoy herself as well. You can't quite make out her face, but you already know the look she's wearing. Can practically see it in your mind's eye; the look of wide-eyed desire as she takes you further in, lips rounding out over teeth as she welcomes every inch you give her until her cheeks cave in from sucking.

It's fucking burned into your brain. You've seen it so much, among so many other filthy expressions, you aren't sure if you could ever forget it.

Your hand reaches down blindly in the darkness until it finds the back of her head. The mere fact that the both of you are sitting on this plane hundreds of miles above the ground is instantly forgotten, fading out from consciousness and sense as she holds on, massaging your balls with one hand.

You let yourself lay there like this, fingers tangled in her hair, cock buried in her mouth. The thought of pulling her up and reciprocating is never far from your mind, but her grip on your hips is certain. This is all her right now. She's in charge.

She does not lack the pace to prove it.

Her head bobs up and down in the dark, tongue guiding you further in with every motion, lips slipping further down along your shaft, saliva pooling at your base. Her humming is growing—you can't hear it, but you can feel it. It resonates all the way through you, down the aching hardness she keeps stroking with her tongue, and even further to fuel that tension building in your lower stomach.

"Holy fuck," you curse under your breath, voice catching in your throat, lost in the motion of the plane's droning vibrations and her eager motions.

She pops you from her mouth, stroking your cock with a twist of a wrist and something she is doing with her tongue at the tip. As your eyes begin to adjust, you can see that spit has mixed with precum, dribbling down and over the back of her knuckles. It's lewd and over the top and everything that Hanni Pham, an innocent idol, pretends not to be.

"What? You want me to stop?"

"Fuck no," you whisper back, heart pumping in your ears. The feeling of her strokes, suddenly more controlled and tense without the benefit of her mouth is as jarring as it is fleeting.

"Didn't think so." With that, she brings her head back down to take you in her mouth again, hot breaths hitting the spit-slick surface of your dick. It's dirty and clumsy, messy and wet, and each time she swallows you, your entire body shudders with pleasure, coiling every muscle and feeling it climb upward until your stomach goes tight and you find yourself pushing her down, further, faster, until she is sucking what little air she has.

You are wound tight. Agonising, torturous tension pulling ever outward from your centre with each motion she makes. Every twitch of her tongue—fuck, does she work her tongue—spurs some sort of response down to the very tips of your toes.

It's a complete relapse. Back to four days ago, in the back of the car, with nothing but a divider between you and the driver. Cumming inside Hanni's pretty mouth and feeling her swallow every bit, then going on like nothing happened.

There's usually not a lot of enthusiasm for an interview. You have spent the whole morning being shrugged off by star after star after star. To them, they're there to look pretty. To show face and represent their brands. Answers are pre-written garbage to be regurgitated over and over like everyone is sharing the same stupid fucking tongue.

Then there's little miss backless-top. Denim jeans and a shirt with frills that barely keeps her modesty. Big, brown eyes and a smile that fills her whole face. Add her vibrance and energy and she really gets your journalistic gears turning. There's something fresh about her. How when you approach her, she engages you in a conversation like you're an actual person and not just some cardboard cut-out of a journalist.

Hanni Pham knows her shit. It's part of the training. She handles media with all the grace of someone born to do it and the energy of someone who loves it. So not only does she give you answers there and then, but when you make the request to sit down with her later and get all you need to do a whole feature on her, she's quickly turning to the powers that be to make it happen.

She should have been a ten-minute addendum. An hourglass figure strutting and posing and laughing her pretty little ass off for cameras for the adoring public. Instead, Hanni fucking Pham, you've got her. For hours.

So you sit down in a quiet little room you managed to reserve with the company card, and she's right across from you, with two glasses of water and a notepad on a table in an otherwise empty room.

"Is this going to be recorded?" She asks first, though looks sceptical and unprepared.

"Normally, yes. But I would prefer us to be a little more comfortable. I'm going to take notes, that's all."

"I like that." She claps, like there's an imaginary audience watching, even if you're the only one there. "So, what are we covering?"

"Everything. To start," you shift a little closer to the table. "Think of this being more about you rather than what you're wearing."

She gives you a little bit of a quizzical look.

"I know. Fashion show. Just, work with me here. The Gucci brand gets the clicks, I want to introduce those clickers to the girl wearing the clothes."

Hanni nods, her eyes light up a little and you can't help but notice how she is really fucking adorable. Up close, she's even prettier. It throws you off for a second as you bring up the notepad. The blank pages stare up at you—mock you. Where do you even begin?

"We met briefly earlier, and you're standing alongside stars from many industries and the lead designer at Gucci."

"Yes," she smiles politely. "That was exciting. Kind of surreal, really."

"So what does it take to be who you are? A girl of Vietnamese blood, born in Melbourne, working in South Korea and travelling to Europe for fashion shows?"

"Uhm, like, honestly?" She shifts in her seat. "Really a lot of hard work. Endless and stressful and never-ending hard work. You know? From singing and dancing, to the language lessons and the dieting and working out. It needs hard work and, well, a lot of luck too."

"You make your own luck." You nod, before jotting down into your notepad.

She tilts her head in response. "I suppose so. That's very quotable if you want. I made my own luck by working hard."

"And yet you're still young, what, turning twenty?"

"Just." Hanni nods.

"Barely twenty and making waves. Do you still feel like you have so much more to give?"

"Oh fuck yeah," she quickly confirms. "Wait, don't write that down."

"Oh... fuck... yeah." You sound out the words as you pretend to write them in the notepad.

"Hey!" Hanni laughs, and it's beautiful. It fills the room and just makes her glow with warmth. "Cut me some slack."

"Alright. Alright. So is this what you envisioned? Being twenty and being here?"

"You mean in this room with you?"

You laugh too. The jokes come so naturally to her.

"I'm happy where I am, it really was always my dream."

"To be in this room with me?"

"Fuck you," she laughs. "But, in a way, yes. I wouldn't be here if I didn't achieve my dream, would I?"

"That's very true. Then what is next for you?"

"There's no end goal." Hanni tilts her head. You follow her hand as it passes through her hair. She's studying you just like you are studying her. "I don't think I'll ever sit back and say 'that's enough.' That's not who I am."

"Ambitious. The question now is what are you chasing?"

"Is that you asking or the article?"

"Both," you say with a wry smile.

"For the article: I want to tour the world, keep improving and working hard. Release more music."

You scribble down a few notes and then click the top of the pen. "And off the record?"

"To spend a little more time focusing on myself. Time is fleeting. I should try and enjoy it while it lasts."

"You're young, pretty and successful. You have plenty of opportunity to do just that."

"Is that flirting?" she jokes, cocking her brow with a seductive smile.

"I'm just stating facts. I'm married to the truth." You gesture to your notepad. "So let's get back on the record, shall we?"

One delayed layover later and you're back in the air, and after your brief break to let Hanni drain you into her throat, you managed to get back to finishing up the article, so for the final stretch, the two of you are lying together in one of the first-class beds, and the conversation kept going.

"How are you single?" she's asking, while you're spooning her.

"Mostly because of my job. Definitely the baggage and constant travelling. Takes a special woman to not hate this."

"Sounds like idol life. I know so many idols who try to date but you just never have the time to see each other. We tour constantly and are always on the road. A long day of practising and comeback planning and comeback filming and comeback rehearsing, and more hours of sleep and eating to prep for the next comeback, you're always too exhausted."

"Such a shame." You lower the blanket that's covering her bare chest. Her breasts fill your palm as you caress them, gently. "A pretty thing like you deserves so much better than empty hotel rooms."

"Flirt," she playfully chastises, pressing her ass to your crotch before sliding forward to give you some friction, grinning at you over her shoulder. "These past few days, all the sex, I'd be lying if I said I couldn't get used to this."

It's a sentiment so heavily shared, that even now you're thinking about how easy it would be to pin her onto her back and mount her. It isn't easy to shake the thought when her body is practically inviting you inside her.

You're asking instead, still exploring her naked form, "How do you overcome the needs?"

"Other ways..." Hanni replies through closed eyes, her cheeks blushing. "Toys. Helps and hurts. They're no real substitute."

You run your hand over her toned stomach, heading between her thighs and gently prying them open. And there she is. Right fucking there, wet and waiting for you. Your finger glides over her lips and runs the full length of her, and she strains to contain a gentle moan. The problem is, Hanni is really fucking loud, and the walls of this pod are paper thin.

"I want you again," she whispers, and it's a real fucking dilemma.

She guides your cock through the folds of her pussy and leans back her head as she takes it. Fuck, it feels so good being back inside her. Wet and tight and made to grip. A small whimper escapes her when you are in deep, which she tries to swallow.

"You gotta be quiet," you tell her, while all but refusing to move inside her.

"I can be quiet," she grinds against you, but you're not convinced, and with a firm grasp of her jaw, you pull her closer.

"Can you?" you speak under her ear. "Can the oh-so-talented Hanni Pham control herself?"

She lets out another trembling little sound of pleasure while pushing herself onto your shaft. "I think so. All I know is you need to—yeah, right there. Yes." She closes her eyes and tries to stifle that deep groan of enjoyment.

You hush her before it gets too loud with a hand over her mouth. Tentatively, you begin moving, an aching slow journey backward and forward. As tight as her cunt is around your dick, the movement becomes easy. Dragging more pleasure from both of you and as she rolls her hips again, grinding against the motion, the whimpering returns.

"Hanni," you scold gently, pushing further into her with each stroke. "Shhh."

She mouths an 'I can't' into your hand which elicits a laugh from you and turns a smirk into a smile. You're rutting against her ass, savouring the feeling of your hips hitting her soft flesh. Ample curves along with a narrow waist begging you to embrace her. A pretty little thing taking all your cock and urging you on. It's hard not to go harder. "Need you."

"Careful what you wish for," you whisper as she tries to lean back her head in bliss.

Her tongue brushes your knuckles, and the soft sweep feels like a warm, wet invitation to probe further. A few seconds of uncertainty follows, and then her mouth closes around the tips of your fingers and starts to suck. Sharing the same excitement that has gotten the better of you the past few days of endless debauchery.

You sink your fingers deeper. She sucks harder, her moans stifled behind her pursed lips. Anywhere but here and you would throw her face down on the mattress, fuck her into a state of bliss. Make her beg for you and claw the bedsheets. Such an innocent girl, a girl who should have stayed wrapped in silk and lace, but who demands you take her, just a moment longer, just a bit rougher, and how can you refuse a beauty like that?

Just as Hanni settles and relaxes, her body is dragged into tense peaks of delight. Tiny gasps leak from around your fingers as you thrust deeper. She chokes as she orgasms, digging her nails into the arm that is holding her close, her face going bright pink. Sweat on her temples, on her chest. An earthly aroma of wet skin and hot breaths. She swears and curses the pleasure as you pump your orgasm between her thighs.

You fill her. For a while, you are one, grinding together in mutual fulfilment, breathing heavily and lost in your actions. The mess you're making runs from her sweet cunt, down her thigh, onto the bed.

The rush leaves the both of you exhausted. Hanni does nothing to resist you pulling out and emptying the last few drops over her ass. It is all over as quick as it began. It comes with a strange realisation of how natural it all feels to cum inside Hanni Pham.

It's not often that someone you interview not only takes your card, but doesn't immediately throw it away, and actually uses the number on there. You're in the back of a cab when it rings. Today's show has just about finished and while you didn't quite manage to snag another interview like the one you did with Hanni, it has been a good day.

"Did you get enough to write about?" is the first question she asks when you answer.

"I got a few bits here and there. Some surface-level stuff from others, but you gave me the marquee piece. I'll fluff up what I have with the spec sheets released and I'm sure it'll be a nice little exclusive."

"That makes me sound important," she giggles.

"You're a fucking celebrity, of course you are important."

"No need to swear."

"Apologies." There's a momentary pause. You let it linger on the call and soon enough, Hanni's laugh fills the silence.

"I'm kidding. Keep up that energy,"

"So, why are you calling? Usually, when I get a call it's to recant some statement or explain a misquote. Did I make a mess of something?"

"Well, not yet. But I have some ideas."

"Ideas?" You repeat, brows raising.

"Where are you now?" she asks, and for a moment you wonder if you shouldn't be answering.

"Taxi. Headed back to the place I'm staying."

"Where are you staying?" It's a strange question for her to ask, you think. Or maybe, it's not strange at all, but timing and circumstance have you considering the way it sounds.

"A hotel."

"Look to your right," she says, making a confusing request, but you look. Of course, you do. Outside the window, in the next lane over, stuck in the very same traffic as you are, is a familiar face. She gives you the widest grin, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Are you following me?" you joke.

"Do you want me to?" There's something playful in her voice, an attempt at seduction that's not exactly subtle.

"Hanni, what are—"

"Just answer the question," she interrupts.

And that's it. There's no reason to evade the truth. Lying to yourself gets no one anywhere. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Good," she murmurs, "you know, I'm still wearing the same outfit as I was at the event. These jeans are getting really uncomfortable." She pulls the phone away from her ear for a second and you hear her call out, "Driver? See that taxi on our left? Follow it, please. And can I get some privacy back here?"

There are some distant sounds from the other side of the phone. An affirmation of orders. Then her voice is right back with you.

"As I was saying, these jeans are really uncomfortable."

"Fashion can hurt," you say flatly.

"You're supposed to tell me to take them off or something. You're not very good at this are you?"

"I didn't realise 'this' is what we were doing." You've developed a stupid fucking smile, even if it's going unseen.

"Hmm, it can be." There is a moment of quiet as if she's thinking. "Hold on a second," Hanni says. There are some vague sounds you can't make out before she comes back to the phone. "Got bored of waiting. Now, keep talking will you? I like the sound of your voice."

"Hanni, what—"

"Just keep talking. Tell me what you think of me." She can't see it, but the look of confusion must be shining bright on your face. At a loss, and under duress, you speak your mind.

"Well, you seem nice." It's a weak first effort. "Very funny, a little confident. You must know you're pretty. Young, but driven." The words you mumble are stilted, but telling the truth.

"Really. You think I'm pretty?"

"Yeah."

"Not sexy?"

"Hanni, you're fucking sexy."

"Thanks," her laugh is like bells, ringing through the car. "That's better. What did you think of my outfit?"

"Daring. Not often do I see an idol go completely backless. Risky."

"Sometimes a risk is worth taking."

"Seems so."

"Tell me more. Tell me what was the part you liked the most?" Her voice drops from that relaxed confidence to a pitch that has your head buzzing with possibility.

"Nice waist. Really looked good with the way those jeans hugged your hips."

There's a long, heavy breath from the other end of the line. Something rustling and then a deep gasp from Hanni.

"What's happening?"

"Nothing. Keep talking. Describe me to me." Her voice is fraught with need, a small tremble in each word.

"Okay." That was permission, or demand, whichever is. You swallow before continuing. "Backless was a good choice. Your bare skin looks great. I'm sure those pictures are going viral already. Betting they are all over the web, all over people's phones."

"Are we close to your hotel?" Hanni strains out the question as if it were hard to say, every syllable wrought in pain.

"Close."

"Good, are you excited?"

"To?"

"See more of my bare skin."

Fuck. The image floods your mind like a dam breaking. Suddenly, she's right there, unclothed and naked and spread open. Suddenly, she's right there, moaning in pleasure, your cock lodged deep inside her.

"Yes," you groan into the phone. It's a painful admission. "Really, Hanni. Really fucking excited."

"So tell me, what are you excited to see?"

"Your ass. Love the way you wore the jeans just a little too tight. Really framed it."

She whispers, "That's all? Anything else, anything special you wanted to see?"

"Your breasts. Like what the top does. Would like to pull it down and play with those breasts." This whole thing is obscene. You're shamelessly spilling your desire to a girl you just met and she's loving every second of it.

Another soft gasp is heard on the call. It's more than that, it's her panting, short snatches of breath as her little gasps become regular, heated and urgent. "And then what?"

"That's a surprise. We're here." The cab pulls up and her car pulls in behind you.

"Room number?"

"Oh-one-two-two," you say, handing over cash to pay the driver and stepping out. "See you there."

It's deep into the night now, and her back is pressed against the wall as you're kissing down her neck. For a young woman who looks ever so innocent, you're quickly learning the taste of her body could have the alcohol industry aflame. She's intoxicating and you're addicted. Lips sucking, teeth pressing lightly against tender flesh.

She told you to not wear a condom, not this time. She described your first load as a waste, a sinful injustice after all the things she had done to wring it from you. So now you're back inside her, thinking only of how you're going to decorate her this time, about the moment you can't hold back any longer and cum, uninhibited, spewing mess over her delicate, flawless little body.

So you're just fucking nailing Hanni against the wall, her leg pulled up and knee hooking around your elbow. Holding her there, pounding her cunt the best you possibly can. Her hands scratch deep lines into your back, and her fingernails leave dull aches along your spine. There's something primal in the way she's urging you to fuck her harder, stronger, faster. She wants all of you, just like you want all of her.

You lift her other leg and hold her there, folded against the drywall. The steady pounding begins to churn her insides, to break her fragile body to the rhythm. She's mewling a mixture of sounds in your ear. Begging. Incoherent sounds of need. Then you feel her cunt clenching and tightening, a sudden strength to the grip she has on your shaft.

Hanni screams your name, howling it at the ceiling and the walls while you drive her ever deeper through an orgasm that's torn apart her expression. Utter beauty, sheer excellence. Her quivering pleasure comes with warmth between the two of you. She cums so hard that she goes limp in your arms. Your legs really begin to strain as you pump her full of cock, and her lips find yours again.

Your kisses are savage, the gnashing of teeth and the crush of lips. She's asking for more. Demanding more.

So you throw her to the bed, turning her over and she instinctively drags herself to her knees. Her palms run to the edge of the bed, clawing the blankets as you climb behind her.

"Do you like my ass?" She breathes. Your grip finds the firm flesh with purpose.

"Love your ass," you mutter, taking a hold and angling her towards you.

"Then fuck me." Hanni arches deep, pushing her soft ass in the air and pressing her tits against the mattress. She backs right up to you, begging to be fucked, once more.

The penetration is perfect. Balls deep inside this horny little girl, grabbing a fistful of her hair and using it as leverage. It's hard, it's fast, it's a brutal rut. A sweaty, wet fuck driven by nothing but raw need. She's too wet, too accommodating, clapping herself against your pelvis, meeting your every thrust.

It's not the time to think. Simply let instinct take over. Leaning into it and fucking her.

More words spill from her mouth. More dirty, lewd praises that have your balls aching. It won't be long now. Every muscle, straining with effort, pulls taut. It's such a fucking trip. This once innocent-looking person sucking the life right from the core of your being, bending over for you to force a hand along her spine and bend her further.

"Cum on me," she whimpers again and again. Over and over. She's pleading with you. "Please, cum on me. On my back. Cover me."

There's no further thought, no plan, no point of focus. Everything narrows down to the slick friction around your shaft, and your stomach starting to become strained from the endless effort. To how her ass shakes as your fuck yourself to the edge and how she cranes her neck to watch you.

At the very last moment, you draw out of her and jerk yourself, quick and urgent motions of your wrist. Hanni's knees give way and she lies flat, looking back and watching you as you start to cover her.

The first spurts land high, just beneath her hair. They collect and pool before forming and dripping forward along her shoulder blades. The next spreads across her shoulders. A thin coating that has you shiver as it lands. It goes on and on until you're slathering her in thick lines and ropes.

Something about the sight is so fitting, so delectable, as she lays there and writhes with need, adoring the feeling of being bathed in your lust.

Her expression is an aphrodisiac as she cries out in ecstasy. Her tongue runs across her lips, and then she lets out a soft lass before crashing her face into the soft bedsheets with a moan. Your fist is still pumping rope after rope of cum across her until every muscle feels drained, and you manage to collapse beside her on the bed. You trace a finger across her smooth, plump ass as you catch your breath.

"This is the life," Hanni gasps. "If I could just have endless sex, the world would be a far happier place."

You could have been forgiven for thinking it would be a one-off. Just one night of wild sex together before going your separate ways and never speaking again. A nice memory of a beautiful girl to always sit fondly at the back of your mind.

But the very next night, you're in her hotel bathroom. Sharing a bath together, her back pressed flush to your front. You can't fucking resist running a hand between her thighs, working gently over her cunt to hear the wonderful noises she makes.

"Please," she whispers over and over, grinding against your touch.

Ordinarily, you might tease her, and have her beg a little more, but there's nothing more enthralling than the sounds and sights of Hanni's face when she cums. So instead, you're knuckle deep with two fingers and curling them into her cunt, hitting that magic spot just a little more, faster and faster.

On the brink of her second orgasm in ten minutes, Hanni draws a noisy, shuddering breath, the exhalation quickly becoming a sharp, high-pitched wail that fills the bathroom, her eyes glaze as she climaxes. "Fuck. I—that's—more." Her head falls backwards and rests on your shoulder, "yeah, more."

Hanni's petite frame writhes in orgasm. Back arched, panting breaths quickly turning to gasps for air. Eyes flutter and roll backwards before shutting entirely. Every muscle in her tight cunt grips your fingers as waves of pleasure pour from deep inside. She grinds on you, riding the sensation of your touch through the spasms until they finally slow.

"You're so fucking cute when you cum," you kiss her cheek.

It's the compliment that has her rising from the water, she stands in front of you, her wet ass and thighs dripping as she turns toward you. "Me? Cute?" She smirks, lowering herself onto your thighs, resting your cock against her pussy. "Am I really?"

"Cutest fucking thing."

She guides your cock to her wet pussy, sinking down and slowly filling herself, the both of you making a whimper at the sensation. She's in no rush, though. She prefers slow, she favours long, lingering motions where you're all the way inside her and stay there for just a few moments before climbing once more.

Her rhythm has you melting back against the bath. Long, even strokes have her ass lifting and sinking, and she rolls her hips so elegantly that it's natural to reach for her waist and run your hands along her curves.

"I hope you don't think I'm easy," Hanni whispers, her fingers grabbing the hair on the back of your head, locking her hot body against yours, keeping you close, wrapping around you. "But I'm twenty and sex-deprived, so deal with it."

"You're allowed to enjoy sex. Nothing wrong with that," you answer through closed eyes, focusing only on the heat, the skin, the feeling of your cock rubbing through her.

With a mischievous chuckle, she rests her weight on you. Chest to chest, nose against nose.

"Careful," she whispers, her voice fluttering in between soft sighs of excitement. "I could get used to having a man around. Someone willing to get me off, over and over again. You might be stuck with me. Wouldn't that be scandalous? A reporter who's secretly fucking a star like me?"

That alluring, seductive voice makes your body tense. Her kiss threatens to undo you right then and there. She's riding you harder now, bouncing her ass in your lap. Driving the pleasure, the friction, harder and deeper.

"I have a confession to make," you speak with heavy breaths, trying to restrain yourself. "I think I could get used to this. Every day. If I could."

"It's a deal then. How about we celebrate by letting you blow a load inside me? Would you like that?" She nibbles at your earlobe, giggling as she sucks it between her lips. "How good would it feel to feel your hot, thick cum slide all the way up inside me?"

"So fucking good."

"And maybe tomorrow I'll keep you inside me and let you fill me all over again, and maybe I'll do the same the day after." There's a devilish smile across her face as she continues, "I'll ride you again and again and again..."

She keeps repeating it, the word stamped into your head over and over and each time she says it, she drives her hips down into you. Hard. The water ripples. Her ass slaps the tops of your thighs. It's a relentless rhythm, an insistent grind, a desperate desire for more.

"You're filthy," you tell her as you take a firm grip on her ass, her flesh filling your grasp and the muscles rippling through her skin as she moves.

"Maybe. Maybe I am, and maybe you like it." She laughs. A sound as sweet as honey.

"You know I do."

"Then show me how much. Fill me. Let it go."

That's all you need, just her words and the way she fucks you. She's the one doing all the work, and it's all the reason you need to relax and let the bliss consume you.

Hanni is kissing you when it hits. She swallows your groans of release, sucking them into her lungs. Her hands press down into your shoulders, nails sinking deep into your skin.

She doesn't stop moving, not once. Keeps grinding. She maintains the pace until you can't take any more. Until there's nothing left. Only then does she ease her motion, settling onto your lap, keeping you deep in her.

"That was amazing," she sighs.

"Fucking was."

#hanni smut #kpop smut #male reader #kpop fanfic #m reader #newjeans smut #kpop fanfiction #hanni x reader #smut

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tootiecakes234 · 5 months ago

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Katsuki deciding how to propose to you:

“Dude you’re overthinking this. She’s gonna say yes no matter what you do or say. If she’s stayed with your grumpy attitude all this time then she’s obviously commited.” Kirishima was explaining because Katsuki had come over 2 hours ago and gone over 5 different plans on how he w could go about proposing.

There were plans that involved a plethora of flowers, walks on the beach, hot air balloons, and skywriting. All elaborate and ridiculous.

“Yea but I don’t do romantic shit. If I don’t at least-fuck- if I don’t make this some grand gesture or some shit she’s gonna think she’s spending forever with a loser.” He grumbles laying back on the bed while Eiji was playing on his game system.

“You don’t think, maybe, possibly, you’re overthinking this?? Y/N doesn’t seem like the type that would want all of these convulted plans man.”

“Are you calling my woman simple? Do I need to kick your ass in your own home shitty hair?!” He sat up like he was already about to leap.

“No! No. Calm down! I’m just saying that you might want to think about something a little more….. intimate maybe.” Eiji says, trying to find the right words as to not said the angry Pomeranian into another frenzy. He was already exhausted and didn’t have the energy to use his hardening if Bakugo chose now to pick a fight.

“Intimate? Like propose to her in the middle of us boning? What kinda dumb shit-“

“What the hell is your problem bakubro? You do know there is more than just sexual intamcy right? *whispers* pick up a book” he mumbles. Eijirou pauses his game and turns around to face Katsuki.

“Stop overthinking. You want to lay your cold heart out- it’s a joke- then do something so you’ll feel comfortable telling her how you feel. She’s gonna remember your words more than this dumb shit you’re planning.” Eiji states looking directly at Katsuki now.

“Ugh. All of this shit is stupid. Maybe I’ll just slide the damn ring on her finger while she’s asleep. Then I can avoid all this gross mushy shit.” He breathes out and starts packing up his shit to leave.

“Bakugo, I’m telling you this as your best friend and hopefully future best man, I will be neither of those things anymore if you choose to do that. In fact Y/N might actually kill you when YOU fall asleep.” He snickers.

Bakugo is almost at the door now when he turns around and says, “Fuck it. I’m just going with my original plan! If you don’t hear from after this weekend it’s because she said no and i ended my life. Oh, and if you tell ANYONE about this-“

“Ok. I get it. Go propose to your girlfriend already” Eiji says with a bright smile on his face.

Katsuki shoots him a quick grin before he leaves to go prep for the biggest night of his life.

*Part 2 of is out now😇

Katsuki Bakugo Masterlist

Tooties Tags: Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @xxvendettaxx @jays-adventure3 @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @mintsbubbletea @darkstarlight82 @anon-mouse223 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @i-literally-cant-with-this @flowerbedbaby @kit-katsukii @blaize-hewwo-deactivated2024062 @tippy-toes @superlegend216 @liliththeunqualifiedsimp @burgvndy @yoyolovesdaiki @zaiban2989 @citrustsuki-2 @queenpiranhadon

#imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha fanfiction #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou drabble #katsuki bakugo mha #drabble #bakugo headcanons #katsuki bakugo #kacchan bakugou #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugo #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo katuski #bnha katsuki

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norrizzandpia · 1 year ago

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The Video (LN4)

Summary: Y/n and Lando’s club dancing sends the F1 world into a frenzy.

Warnings: sexual innuendos, sexual conversations, its short im sorry, if you want something more to this storyline lmk in the requests ill prob do it lol

Note: IVE HAD THIS IDEA IN MY HEAD LONG BEFORE I EVEN STARTED WRITING

TWITTER

ln4andop81 how yall feeling after that leaked vid?

- mclarensgirly FIGHTING. FOR. MY. LIFE.

- f1fan2 if i speak.

- ln4andop81 what shall we address first.

- mclarensgirly maybe the GRINDING????

- f1fan2 PLZ I SCREAMED THE WAY HIS HANDS GUIDED HER HIPS 😫😫😫😫

- ln4andop81 THE WHISPERING IN THE EAR???

- mclarensgirly BRUH I JUST KNOW LANDO SAID SOMETHING SO GODDAMN QUESTIONABLE BY THE LOOK OF Y/N’S FACE

- f1fan2 bro literally moved his hands up to the bottom of her boobs and down and then whispered some crazed shit in her ear and i died. THE PERSON WHO FILMED THAT VIDEO I LOVE YOU 😋😋

- ln4andop81 yeah i think its safe to say that lando norizz is definitely a myth.

—

y/nnn so about last night.

Comments:

mclarensgirly ABOUT LAST NIGHT MY ASS

ln4andop81 girly had a whole video of her grinding on her bf leaked and her response is “about last night”. icon.

landonorris i had fun 😙

- mclarensgirly BYE

- ln4andop81 MANS IS INSANE

- f1fan2 so moral of the story lando basically fucked his gf in public and said “i had fun” NO SHIT

- mclaren dont think you understand the pr situation at hand 😀

- mclarensgirly NOW IM DONE FOR

- ln4andop81 MCLAREN ADMIN IS FIGHTING ON THE FRONT LINES RN

maxverstappen this is why i said to not drink too much

- y/nnn YOU PUT THE DRINKS IN. MY. HAND.

- landonorris i think your exact words were “next round on me?”

- kellypiquet i am afraid babe that you did in fact do and say both of those things

—

TWITTER

Mclarenfan22 its the way lando pushes y/ns hips into him so she can be as CLOSE as possible

- circledriving-racers plz when i first saw that vid i rlly didnt think by the end of it i would know what lando looked like when he was clearly feeling some type of way

- ln4andop81 yeah bc the way he threw his head back when she started circling her hips against his spoke VOLUMES

- papayafan it had ME feelin some typa way and i wasnt even the one getting danced on

- ln4andop81 i feel like its prob for the best the vid ended before we could see them separate bc i feel like we wouldve seen LANDO and not lando if yk what i mean 😟

- papayafan a bone-

- mclarenfan22 we would rlly know EVERYTHING abt him at that point

- ln4andop81 im willing to bet a large sum of money (im broke) that hes big

- y/nnn is this where im supposed to “enter the chat”?

- ln4andop81 MAAM.

- mclarensgirly YES. SPILL THE TEA.

- f1fan2 YEAH DO THE PUBLIC A SERVICE AND TELL US ‼️‼️‼️

- y/nnn i think i would like to gatekeep this one girlies 💋💋

-mclarensgirly wow.

- ln4andop81 ill never get over how it girl she is.

—

landonorris it was a great night and thats all i have to say abt it

Comments:

oscarpiastri UHHHHHHH

mclaren we cant catch a break ever

y/nnn BABE THE SIGN 😭😭

- landonorris i thought it really translated my thoughts 🙏🏻

- mclarensgirly BRO DOESNT GIVE A FUCK GAHDAMN

ln4andop81 so i guess the question rlly is: did the sign become reality?

- landonorris what do you think 🤭

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #mclaren #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #lando norris x you #lando norris #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris smut #lando norris edit #oscar piastri #kelly piquet #max verstappen #f1 grid x reader

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chimcess · 2 months ago

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Unparalleled || jjk

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Other tags: Idol!Jungkook, Photographer!Reader Word Count: 6.6k+ Genre: One-shot, established relationship, PWP, long distance relationship AU, smut Synopsis: You had only met him once, a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of things, and the fact that he was on the other side of the hotel door felt surreal. Or, after being in a long-distance relationship for over a year, you and Jungkook are finally meeting up. Warnings: This is literally just porn, there’s a plot but it’s just filth, soft-dom JK, he calls reader “baby,” oral (m&f), d*ck piercing, tatted jk, jk wears glasses (the entire time), dirty talk, desperate sex, couch sex, they barely made it inside tbh, protected sex (wrap it up babes), multiple positions, light begging, light body worship, light praise, some teasing, reader cums on his face, multiple orgasms, nipple play, nipple sucking, some nipple biting, hair pulling, aftercare cuddling, sweet ending, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: I’m still getting used to writing smut, so I’m sorry if this is a bit awkward in some spots. Found this in my drafts, so I fixed it up a little bit and decided to post it. Thanks for reading.

Staring down at my fidgeting hands, I felt like the taxi was closing in on me, every tick of the clock amplifying the sense of claustrophobia. Twenty minutes felt like an eternity, dragging by as if time itself were taunting me. I stole another glance at my phone, re-reading Jungkook's last message like it was some sort of magic spell.

Kookie: 324

It was surreal to think he was right here in California, just a short drive away, no oceans or time zones separating us. My leg bounced nervously beneath the table, the excitement swirling in my stomach like butterflies in a frenzy. Each moment felt charged with anticipation, a thrilling energy that made my heart race. I quickly typed out a response, adding a heart emoji before sending my location. Jungkook always said sharing my location made him feel closer to me, bridging the gap between our worlds, even with his whirlwind schedule that rarely left room for anything else. Being one of the biggest pop stars had a way of pulling a guy in a million directions.

I couldn’t help but smile as I recalled our first meeting. It was right after the lockdown ended, during his band’s visit to California for a concert and the Grammys. I still vividly remembered standing by the snack table, nervously clutching a half-empty cup of soda, when our eyes met for the first time. There was an electric spark in that moment, something I hadn’t realized I’d been missing. His grin was infectious, his playful nature shining through, and my heart had skipped a beat at the sound of his laughter. It echoed in my mind like a melody I wanted to play on repeat.

A few months later, we had entered a long-distance relationship, navigating the challenges of his demanding career while trying to keep our connection alive. Late-night video calls, flirty texts, and the occasional surprise visit were our lifelines, but nothing could compare to the rush of being together in the same room. And now, the thought of finally seeing him in person again sent a rush of warmth through me, a blend of hope and nervous energy that was hard to contain.

As I waited, I replayed our conversations in my mind—each one a thread weaving our lives together despite the distance. We shared dreams, fears, and whispered secrets, laying the groundwork for something beautiful and profound. The thought of being in his presence again, of feeling his warmth and the comfort of his touch, made my heart race with excitement.

I glanced at the clock again, biting my lip in anticipation. Each minute stretched into hours, the seconds crawling by. Would he still feel the same? Would our chemistry translate into real life as effortlessly as it did through screens and messages? Doubts flitted through my mind, but I shook them off, focusing on the joy of the moment. Jungkook was just a heartbeat away, and soon, I would be in his arms. The very idea sent a shiver down my spine.

My phone buzzed, startling me out of my thoughts. I scrambled to open the notification, my heart racing. If Jungkook messaged, I had to respond quickly. Our conversations were a race against time, a way to squeeze moments of connection into his packed schedule. Phone calls were our only reliable lifeline, but the language barrier complicated things. We were both trying, though Jungkook's English was much better than my Korean.

Kookie: 나는 신나요

Giggling, I typed back a response.

Y/N: 나도

Kookie: Good job, 자기~

Nothing made Jungkook happier than seeing me try to improve my Korean. He always insisted it was adorable, his smile brightening every time I stumbled through a phrase. Yoongi was usually the more honest one, quick to point out my mispronunciations, but Jungkook wore that supportive boyfriend badge with pride, even if it meant telling me little white lies.

As the taxi pulled up to the hotel, my heart raced with a mix of excitement and anxiety. I thanked the driver, tipping generously as I stepped out into the warm night air. The moment I did, the fragrant scent of blooming jasmine wafted around me, mingling with the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. I had only packed a small bag for our two-night stay, not knowing how much time we’d actually have together. Remembering that, I hurried up the steps, my footsteps echoing against the marble tiles.

The Sunset Hotel was unlike anything I’d imagined. I had envisioned a quiet, almost sleepy place, but instead, it was alive with activity. I couldn’t believe it was two in the morning; the lobby was bustling, a vibrant mix of laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint notes of live music drifting from the bar area. The energy crackled in the air like electricity, and I felt an exhilarating rush. Yet, amidst the lively atmosphere, a wave of inadequacy washed over me. Just a few moments ago, in the taxi, I had almost forgotten about Jungkook’s status as one of the biggest pop stars in the world, but now, beneath the sparkling chandelier that cast shimmering patterns across the polished floor, it was impossible to ignore.

As I walked through the brightly lit lobby, I caught glimpses of elegantly dressed guests, their conversations animated, their laughter ringing out like musical notes. I felt like a fish out of water, dressed in a casual sundress while they flaunted designer attire. Who would have thought my years in the service industry—working late nights and juggling demanding customers—would lead me here, about to meet someone who could afford such luxury? The thought both thrilled and terrified me.

At the front desk, the staff shot me quick, assessing looks. Their eyes were sharp, as if measuring my worth in this lavish setting. One of the hosts greeted me with a forced smile that felt far too wide for comfort. “Welcome to the Sunset Hotel! How can I assist you tonight?” Their voice dripped with that practiced hospitality, but I could sense a subtle skepticism beneath the surface.

“Um, I’m here to check in,” I replied, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest. I fished my phone out of my bag, ready to show them the reservation I’d made, but the host raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the computer screen as if evaluating my very presence.

“Name?” they asked, still wearing that unnaturally bright smile.

“Y/N,” I replied, and I held my breath as they typed it in. A brief moment of silence stretched between us, the bustling lobby fading into a distant murmur as I waited for their response.

“Ah, yes! We have you right here,” they said finally, their tone shifting to one of mild surprise. “You’re the other half of 324, correct?” They looked at me again, and I could feel the weight of their judgment, as if I were a puzzle they were trying to fit into a larger picture.

“Right,” I said, attempting to keep my tone light. “Should just be for the weekend.”

The host’s smile remained, but the glint in their eye suggested they were piecing together the details, perhaps even recognizing my connection to Jungkook. As they handed me the key card, I felt a rush of anxiety. What if they didn’t think I belonged here? What if Jungkook didn’t feel the same way about me once we were together?

I took the key, my fingers brushing against the cool surface, and turned to head toward the elevator. I was acutely aware of the looks I was receiving, a mix of curiosity and skepticism from both staff and guests alike. The air was thick with expectations, and I could almost hear the whispers in my mind, doubting whether I was truly worthy of this moment. But I pushed those thoughts aside. This was about Jungkook and me, our connection. And soon, I would be in his presence, feeling the warmth of his smile and the excitement of our reunion.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the elevator, the doors closing behind me like a protective barrier from the outside world. As the car ascended, I clutched my bag, heart racing with every passing floor. This was it. In just a few moments, I would be face-to-face with the boy who had ignited something within me, and no amount of uncertainty could overshadow that truth.

I shifted from foot to foot in the cramped elevator, the anticipation eating away at me like a swarm of butterflies taking flight in my stomach. Each second felt like an eternity, stretching my nerves thinner and thinner. I took out my phone, biting back a smile as I contemplated the moment. It was so surreal that I was just a few moments away from seeing Jungkook again after what felt like an eternity apart.

In a burst of excitement, I snapped a quick picture of the elevator doors opening, the sleek metallic finish reflecting the soft glow of the lobby lights. I sent it to Jungkook with a playful caption: *“Almost there!”* Watching the little blue ticks appear, I felt a rush of warmth, knowing he’d see it almost instantly.

Once inside the elevator, I pressed the button for the third floor with a mix of hope and trepidation. It only made sense that the 300s would be located on the third floor, right? Still, the absence of any signs directing me left me feeling a bit disoriented. The elevator hummed softly, its gentle movement barely easing the whirlwind of thoughts racing through my mind.

The walls felt a bit too close, almost as if they were closing in on me, but I took a deep breath, willing myself to relax. I replayed the memories of our conversations, the laughter we shared, and the longing I felt every time we parted. The excitement pulsing through me was intoxicating, a vivid contrast to the anxious tension coiling in my chest.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my hand, jolting me out of my reverie. I glanced down, my heart skipping a beat as I saw Jungkook's name flashing on the screen.

Kookie: I’m going to kiss you so much.

I couldn’t help but smile. I hoped kissing would be just the beginning of what would happen tonight. After a year of building up tension, I didn’t want to wait anymore. I wanted him.

Y/N: 또?

Kookie: I can’t think of it in English.

Rolling my eyes, I groaned. That was his way of avoiding a question. I knew he understood, but it amused me more than anything. Slowly, my nerves eased, and I felt more confident about seeing him, even if we were hiding away in a hotel I could never afford, lying on expensive sheets while the world outside spun with sharp eyes and curious gazes.

As the elevator dinged softly, signaling my arrival at the third floor, I felt a surge of adrenaline. The doors slid open smoothly, revealing a dimly lit hallway lined with plush carpeting and framed art pieces that whispered of elegance. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps as I moved forward. The anticipation hung in the air like a charged atmosphere before a storm, and I could almost feel Jungkook’s presence drawing me closer.

I glanced at the room numbers, scanning for his. As I walked, I imagined what it would be like to finally be face-to-face with him. Would he look the same? Would that boyish grin still light up his face when he saw me? The thought sent my heart racing as I turned a corner, catching sight of the numbers I had been searching for.

Room 324. My breath caught in my throat, and for a fleeting moment, I hesitated, overwhelmed by a wave of nerves. What if things were different now? What if he had changed? But I quickly shook off the doubts; this was Jungkook, the boy I had laughed and shared secrets with, the one who had kept my heart fluttering even from a distance.

With a firm resolve, I approached the door, my heart pounding in rhythm with my steps. I held my breath, the moment stretching out like a taut string ready to snap. Would he answer? Would he be excited to see me? I could hardly contain the anticipation, my heart racing as I waited for that door to swing open. The air crackled with anticipation, buzzing with the weight of what was about to happen.

I raised my hand to knock, but before my knuckles could even touch the wood, the door swung open. And there he was—Jungkook.

He was everything I remembered: pitch-black hair tousled in a way that was both effortless and enticing, metal glinting in the light, thin, silver rimmed glasses, and a thin white t-shirt clinging to his muscular frame. It felt surreal, like stepping into a vivid dream, but this was no illusion. This was real, and it took my breath away.

"You," I whispered, the word slipping out like a gasp.

His dark eyes widened in surprise, delight flickering across his features. My heart raced as I watched him take me in, his expression shifting from uncertainty to something deeper, more intimate. Had he been waiting for this moment as much as I had? Was he just as happy as I felt?

All my doubts faded when that eyebrow, heavy with steel, raised in appreciation instead of scorn. He stepped into the hallway, and my heart pounded wildly, the space between us charged with an unspoken promise.

"You," he echoed, his voice low and husky as he took my hand in his, guiding me back into his room.

He kicked the door shut behind him. The air thickened as he moved closer, inches separating us, electric and intoxicating. I inhaled the scent of him—soap and laundry detergent—sending shivers down my spine. A soft whimper escaped my lips, desire pooling in my stomach like a spark waiting to ignite.

With an air of confidence, he advanced, and I leaned back, the weight of his presence drawing me in like gravity. I stopped when my back hit the couch, the world outside fading away as we paused, our breaths mingling in the charged silence. My fingers, betraying me, reached up to trace the row of piercings in his eyebrow, trailing down the line of his jaw to his lips. They were soft and rosy, a striking contrast to the rough stubble that scratched my palm.

In that moment, he darted his tongue out, the pointed tip brushing against my fingers, and I moaned softly, the sound echoing in the intimate space between us, igniting the fire that had been simmering beneath the surface.

And then he was on me.

He seized my hand, guiding it into the tousled mess of hair I had longed to touch. It was softer than I had imagined, and I lost myself in it. His mouth descended on mine, a fiery torrent of passion and urgency. My body responded instinctively, arching into him as our breaths mingled, his desire palpable against my stomach, the taste of longing lingering on his lips.

His palm traced a path down my arm, firm and possessive, sliding over my shoulder and back again. He tugged at the buttons of my cardigan, peeling the fabric away to reveal the inked skin beneath. I shivered at the roughness of his touch, a thrilling contrast to the softness of his kiss.

Breaking away, I pressed my mouth against the line of his jaw, trailing wet kisses toward the piercings in his ear, letting my tongue tease them as my breath washed hot against his skin.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” He whispered against my lips.

I panted, my fingers tangling tightly in his hair.

His hands tightened around my arms, pulling us together, the weight of our bodies colliding in a desperate embrace. “Every single day,” he swore, his voice rough yet melodic. He began a slow, deliberate exploration of my neck, the heat of his tongue tracing my pulse and making me shudder. “Every night that you called me, whispering sweet nothings in that voice. It drove me insane. I just wanted to hop on a plane and have you in my lap.”

“God, I wish you would have,” I gasped, feeling the bite of his teeth just below my collarbone, a thrilling blend of pain and pleasure that made me clench around nothing. “Why didn’t you?”

“You make me nervous,” he murmured, teasing aside the cup of my bra.

He took my nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the bud with reverence. I whined in pleasure, arching into him. Emboldened, he bit down.

“Self-conscious, huh?” I teased, winded and shaking from pleasure, even as my nails dug into his back, urging him closer. “I have a hard time believing that right now.”

He pulled back, capturing my face in his strong hands, kissing me fiercely as a low growl escaped him. “Believe it.”

We kissed with a fierce intensity that made me feel like I was on fire, the heat radiating off him, his glasses pressing against my face. He shifted to remove them, but I caught his wrists, holding him in place.

“Don’t,” I growled. “I like them.”

A primal sound erupted from his chest, desperate and raw. He lifted me effortlessly, settling me against the back of the couch, our bodies grinding together, my thighs aligning perfectly with the hard heat of his jeans. Each thrust sent a new wave of pleasure surging through me, my head falling back as I teetered on the brink of ecstasy, feeling weightless and electric, consumed by a desire that felt like it could set us both ablaze.

But he caught me. Just as I was about to tumble backward into dizzying, white-hot pleasure, his arms wrapped around me, firm and unyielding, pulling me against the solid expanse of his chest. My breath came in quick, frantic gasps, my heart racing like a wild animal as I clung to him, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, drawing him closer.

“Careful, pretty girl,” he breathed into my ear, a soft murmur that sent shivers racing down my spine. I grasped at his back, fingers digging into the taut muscles, anchoring myself to him, afraid of being swept away in the tide of desire threatening to pull me under.

My hands roamed from his back, gliding over his shoulders and down his arms as he stroked his fingertips along my thighs, mapping a path from my knees to my hips and back again. His skin was warm, electric under my touch, and I traced the intricate black curls of ink adorning his pale flesh—an abstract tapestry resolving into a lion on one arm and a lamb on the other.

“You’re beautiful,” I gasped, the words spilling out before I could stop them, but he silenced me with another heated kiss.

My fingers fumbled at the hem of his t-shirt, desperate to see what those curls of ink transformed into beneath the fabric. He shifted me closer, his grip on me unwavering, even as his hands momentarily released me to lift his arms above his head. Seizing the opportunity, I tugged at his shirt, peeling it away to reveal the canvas of his torso, the intricate lines of ink telling stories I longed to hear.

I barely had time to take in the intricate Sanskrit lines etched along his side and the lone kanji character hovering over his heart before he was lifting my shirt, pulling it over my head. For a heartbeat, I was enveloped in darkness, blinded by the fabric. My hands scrambled behind me, fumbling to unclasp my bra, and he kissed a heated trail along the bare skin of my shoulder as the straps slipped down my arms.

“I love this,” he murmured against my skin, his lips trailing softly across my collarbone, down my ribs, and back to my breast, igniting every nerve in my body. “And I love it all the more because of this.”

His tongue brushed over the small butterfly tattoo on my ribcage.

His fingers roamed lower, and when he pulled away, I let out a whimper of protest, longing for his touch. The light-headed sensation returned, reminding me just how long it had been since a man had touched me—since I’d felt filled.

I braced myself with one hand against the edge of the couch while the other tangled in his tousled hair, relishing its softness as it slipped through my fingers. His mouth found my stomach, his tongue dipping into my navel, tracing a tantalizing line toward my most sensitive spot. I gasped, an overwhelming hunger igniting deep within me. I had been yearning for this, for him, and the desperate need flooded my senses.

With deft fingers, he teased apart the button of my fly and drew down the zipper, revealing delicate black lace beneath. He licked and sucked his way to my hip, his hand lingering on my abdomen, thumb skirting under the edge of my underwear before descending lower, finally finding bare, glistening skin. When his fingers grazed my clit, pleasure surged through me, and I nearly cried out at its raw intensity.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping,” he cursed, his voice rough with desire as he buried his face against the joint of my hip and thigh.

“For you,” I groaned, my body arching instinctively. “I’ve been wet for months just thinking about you.”

A low growl escaped him, and in a blur of motion, he tore the hem of my jeans down, ripping them from my body until I was left in nothing but my panties. He pushed my naked thighs up and over his shoulders, positioning his head exactly where I craved him to be.

I struggled to contain my frantic breaths, fast and shallow, echoing my absolute need to feel his hands, his mouth, to be consumed by him entirely. He inhaled deeply, reverently, his nose brushing against the lace where my body met my thigh. The sensation sent shockwaves through me, rendering me breathless.

He wrapped one hand around my leg while the other snaked behind me, gripping my ass firmly, anchoring me as he pulled the soaked fabric aside, exposing my bare skin to his hungry gaze. His thumb descended onto my clit, and I gasped, waves of need crashing over me as pleasure radiated from his touch. I cried out, the sound escaping me like a prayer, my body arching toward him, desperate for more.

And then he kissed me, his mouth capturing my clit with an intensity that sent me spiraling.

The moans clawing their way from my chest were unrecognizable, a desperate symphony of need as I became a writhing mass of pure, unadulterated hunger. Unlatching himself, his thumb worked expertly at my clit, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through me. His tongue darted out, teasing the edges of my entrance before plunging inside, and I felt the pressure building, the storm that had been gathering finally reaching its peak until I exploded, my thighs clenching around his face as my body ignited into a searing inferno.

I teetered on the edge of ecstasy, and then I actually fell over, the world spiraling away.

When I regained awareness, I was sprawled across the back of the couch, my neck twisted awkwardly, the top of my head grazing the seat cushion. My arms draped limply above me while my thighs remained anchored to his shoulders. He gazed down at me, a mixture of curiosity and satisfaction etched across his face, his mouth glistening—a testament to our fervor.

With a wicked smirk, he wiped his mouth with his forearm, leaving me in my awkward state as he peeled my panties down my body, rendering me completely exposed and unable to rise. His finger glided along my opening, my body still thrumming with aftershocks from one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever experienced. When he dipped gently inside, I gasped.

“Is this what you want, Y/N? My hands inside you?”

I found myself ensnared in a whirlwind of emotions; I craved this intimacy with him more than anything, yet it felt like just a fragment of the whole picture. The sensation of his fingers deep within me was intoxicating, but beneath that, there lingered a yearning for more—more than just his hands. I ached for him—his body hovering over mine, the heat radiating from him as I traced the ink etched across his skin, my tongue teasing the silver piercings that adorned him.

“Yes. No. God, I want you,” I gasped, my voice a mixture of longing and desperation.

He raised a pierced eyebrow, still kneeling before me, his fingers buried deep inside me. “Want your cock.”

“You want this dick?” he asked, his tone both teasing and serious.

“Yes,” I panted, the word slipping out as both a plea and a command.

“Where?”

I knew exactly where I wanted him; the desire burned brightly within me. “Everywhere. My hand. My mouth. My pussy. Just… everywhere.”

A low growl escaped him, reverberating through my body, raw and hungry. But just as quickly, his fingers slipped away, leaving me aching and empty. He gripped my hips, securing me against him and the back of the couch, rising to slide my slick core against the hard line of his body. The urgency of his arousal pressed against me, igniting a fire within.

He leaned down, gathering me into his arms, kissing me with such fervor that I felt dizzy, his hardness grinding against me—a promise of what was to come.

I pushed him away gently, his expression shifting to one of confusion, but all I needed was a moment to slide off the couch and drop to my knees. He groaned as I ran my nose along the thick outline of him through his jeans, feeling him twitch in response to my teasing. With trembling hands, I tugged his pants and boxers down, revealing him—long, thick, and glistening with anticipation.

The chrome piercing at the tip caught the light, gleaming enticingly.

Looking up, I found him hovering above me, his body bared save for those damn glasses. His intense gaze locked onto mine, a silent plea reflected in his brown eyes. “Y/N,” I breathed, letting my warm breath wash over the tip of him. He groaned, his fingers tangling in my hair, urging me forward.

“God, I want to feel your mouth on me,” he implored, igniting a wild hunger within me.

I opened my mouth, eager and wet, my lips closing around the head of him, my tongue tracing the underside, the cool metal against warm flesh sending shivers down my spine.

“Y/N.”

I pulled away before I could take him too deep, trailing my mouth down his length, savoring every moment as I buried my nose into the soft hair at the base of him. He was practically whimpering, and I couldn’t resist the urge to pump him twice with my hand, the slickness gliding over him before I took him into my mouth, relaxing my throat to envelop him. Yet even with all my efforts, I couldn’t fit him completely, and I rubbed my thighs together, craving the moment he would finally fill me.

I moved my mouth up and down his length, achingly slow, feeling the tension coiling within him, his hips twitching, restrained. He wanted to thrust, to take control, but I held him back, guiding his movements while keeping him still. I could sense his legs trembling, teetering on the edge, so I pulled off, leaving him panting, his length throbbing, a testament to our shared desire.

Kissing the sharp bone of his hip, I pulled his pants the rest of the way down as he kicked off his shoes, the fabric sliding away like a whisper in the night. Just as I was about to toss the jeans aside, he stopped me, his voice low and husky. “Back pocket.”

Curiosity piqued, I glanced up at him through narrowed eyes and retrieved the little foil package from his back pocket. I noticed at least two more tucked away, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had remarkable recovery time or if he was planning a very long weekend with me. Both notions sent a thrilling rush coursing through me

I held the condom up between two of my fingers. Jungkook snatched the package from me, tearing it open with a deft motion, rolling it over his cock from tip to base. He pressed his sheathed length against my hip, our bodies brushing together with a desperation that left me breathless.

“Turn,” he commanded, gently pushing at my shoulder. I obeyed, and his hands shoved me down, bending me from the waist, positioning my elbows on the back of the couch. When he was satisfied with my submission, he settled his hands firmly on my shoulder blades, a searing presence that felt as though it might melt through my skin, branding me with his touch.

His hands glided down my sides, over my ribs and hips, finally settling on my ass, rubbing it appreciatively. The edges of his fingers grazed my lips, parting them, and I jerked backward, feeling the heat of his cock resting against my back.

“Wider, baby,” he cooed, his fingers sliding over my trembling thighs. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the rush of sensation, and obeyed, spreading my legs for him. His knees bent between mine, the tip of his cock gliding tantalizingly from my clit to my entrance, brushing against me but not penetrating.

“Please, Jungkook,” I panted, desperation clawing at my throat as I felt myself teetering on the edge of begging.

Even he found himself pleading. “Please let me inside you,” he whispered, his length teasingly tracing my wet flesh, dipping slightly to part my lips but not filling the aching void within me.

“Yes,” I groaned, finally feeling the head of his cock pressing against my entrance, slipping into me inch by glorious inch. Nothing had ever felt this intense. “Fuck, yes,” I moaned, his grip hot and possessive at my hip while the other hand cradled the back of my neck, steadying me.

It was maddening not being able to move, even though all I wanted was to rock back and pull him deeper.

My body stretched as he pushed forward, achingly slow until he was fully seated within me, his hips flush against my backside. I gasped as he filled me completely. The sensation was electrifying, and I felt him rock back slightly before surging forward again, the combination of his length and the hot tip of metal against my walls making my eyes roll.

“Please,” I urged, my mantra of ‘yes’ and ‘fuck me’ spiraling from my lips as he finally began to thrust with abandon, our bodies locked in a passionate dance.

He tightened his grip on my hip, the other hand sliding to the middle of my back, pushing down. I could feel his movements becoming erratic, less steady—so close to coming inside me.

But I didn’t want it to end like this. Not after all this time.

“No, stop,” I breathed, the words barely escaping my lips before he froze, a pained sound erupting from him like a wounded animal.

“Please, Jesus, Y/N, you can’t—”

I glanced over my shoulder at him, squeezing him tightly inside me. The resulting moan from his throat sent a jolt of electricity through my body. The rejection and frustration etched across his face twisted my heart. “After all this time missing you,” I whispered, locking eyes with him, “I need to see you. I need to see you come.”

In an instant, he withdrew, turning my body roughly until I felt the couch pressing against me once more. Supporting my back with one hand, he parted my thighs with fierce urgency, stepping into them and plunging back inside me. I screamed, the sound echoing through the empty corners of the room.

His face was close to mine as he began to move again, quick, short thrusts finding a new rhythm. Our sweaty brows collided, the metal hoops of his piercings scratching my skin, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. His name spilled from my lips as we captured each other in another fiery kiss, a moment so intense I thought I could lose myself entirely in the swirl of our bodies, his ink swirling around us like dark tendrils of smoke.

His patience began to fray as he kissed me harder, his body pressing into mine with more urgency. I felt the fiery bloom of pleasure building again, hot and electric, and I craved him hard and fast—a deep connection stripped of all restraint.

He must have sensed my need, too, as he quickened his pace. “Hold on, baby,” he instructed, and I complied, wrapping my arms and legs around him tightly. I let him brace himself against the back of the couch as he drove into me, his pubic bone hitting my clit with each thrust, the metal piercing hitting deep within me making me mewl.

“I’m coming, Y/N. Fuck,” he moans, the raw desperation in his voice igniting something primal within me.

His face contorts in a beautiful, twisted expression of pleasure, each thrust deeper, harder, as if he’s trying to etch this moment into my very soul. The intensity of his words washes over me like a tidal wave, pulling me into a realm of oblivion. My body pulses in rhythm with his, a white-hot light flashing behind my closed eyes, merging with the vision of him—so fully present in my arms, lost in the sheer ecstasy we’ve created together.

As the world around us faded, time seemed to suspend, leaving only the two of us in a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. I could feel the weight of our shared moments pressing against us, every sensation amplified in the silence that enveloped the room. Slowly, we began to come back to ourselves, his body still pressed against mine, a gentle reminder of the electrifying connection we had just shared. The feeling of him lingering inside me sent shivers down my spine, and our breaths intertwined in a rhythm that was both calming and exhilarating.

We exchanged soft kisses, each one delicate and filled with unspoken promises, contrasting the raw passion that had ignited between us moments before. It was a tender kind of intimacy, one that held the power to ground us in a whirlwind of emotions.

After a moment, he pulled away, slipping out of me with a reluctance that made my heart ache just a little. The sudden emptiness was palpable, a gentle reminder of the closeness we had just experienced. Jungkook reached for the condom, his movements careful and deliberate, disposing of it in the wastebasket beside the couch. When he turned back to me, the soft glow of the room caught the contours of his face, illuminating him in a way that made him look almost ethereal.

“You’re really here,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the magic of the moment.

“I’m here,” I replied, unable to suppress the grin that broke across my face. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and this moment felt surreal.

Jungkook walked back over to the couch, his gaze roaming over my features as if he were trying to memorize every detail. “You look even better than I remembered,” he said, his smile soft and genuine, lighting up his eyes.

“And you look exhausted,” I teased, noticing the faint shadows under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and busy days.

He laughed, the sound brightening the room and melting away any remnants of anxiety I had carried with me. “It’s been a crazy week, but seeing you makes it all worth it.”

A smile broke across my face, the tension of the past months finally beginning to dissolve. For the first time since I had arrived, I took in my surroundings. The room felt both elegant and cozy, drenched in soft light, with tasteful decor that radiated warmth. A large bed dominated the space, its crisp white sheets looking impossibly inviting, and I found myself wishing we could make our way over there. It seemed far more comfortable than the couch.

“How was your flight?” Jungkook asked, bending down to plant a gentle kiss on my forehead, sending warmth flooding through me.

“Long,” I admitted. “But I couldn’t sleep. I was too excited.” The truth was, anticipation had been buzzing in my veins like electricity ever since I’d set foot on the plane.

He settled next to me on the couch, his hand finding mine, our fingers intertwining in a way that felt instinctive. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said, his thumb tracing small patterns on my skin, making my heart flutter in response.

“I’ve missed you too,” I replied, squeezing his hand tightly. “It feels like forever.”

We fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the city lights twinkling outside like a constellation trapped within a glass jar. The reality of being here with him began to sink in, settling deep in my bones. No more video calls with choppy connections or hurried texts exchanged amid the chaos of our lives—just us, flesh and blood, finally in the same place.

Breaking the quiet, Jungkook’s tone turned serious, slicing through the warmth that enveloped us. “How are you holding up? I know it’s been tough.”

I took a deep breath, weighing my response. “It’s been hard,” I admitted, the truth heavy on my tongue. “But knowing we’d have this, even just a couple of days, kept me going.”

He nodded, understanding etched on his face. “It’s the same for me. The craziness of the tour and the constant traveling—it’s all worth it knowing I get to see you.”

His words wrapped around me like a warm blanket on a cold night, soothing my weary soul. We talked for hours, drifting through a sea of conversation that felt both substantial and light, catching up on everything and nothing. His stories from the tour spilled out with infectious excitement, his eyes alight like fireflies in the dark. I shared my own experiences, and with every word, the distance between us began to melt away until it felt like the space of a single breath.

Eventually, exhaustion crept in like a gentle shadow, heavy yet comforting. Jungkook stood up and held out his hand, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “Come on,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Let’s move to the bed. It’s way more comfortable.”

I took his hand, allowing him to guide me across the room. The large bed loomed before us, inviting and cozy, the crisp white sheets beckoning like a sanctuary. As we settled into the plush comfort, I felt a wave of contentment wash over me, a feeling that we were finally exactly where we were meant to be. We lay side by side, fingers intertwined like threads in a tapestry, the world outside fading into a dull hum, the city’s chaos a distant memory.

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poppy-metal · 3 months ago

Note

Kinky dirty gross casual hookup Patrick but one day you're feeling all sad and sensitive and you ask him if he can just have some vanilla missionary sex with you and he agrees even though he expects to be bored and not be able to cum but he realizes halfway through that oops! He's kind of in love with you and he's making love with you and it's softer than you expected from him and he cums just as hard because it's you and it fucks him up in the head a little afterwards

patrick who comes over to fuck and notices you're different than usual, more quiet and less eager to jump his bones - so he suggests you can cancel if you're not feeling up to it, no hard feelings - and you immediately cling onto him. tell him that you do want to have sex with him - you're just not feeling the rough stuff today.

and patrick tenses for a moment - considers telling you he's not comfortable with that. he's not the making love type. but then he thinks about leaving you alone when you're looking at him like you need him and he gets this uncomfortable feeling in his chest that makes him itch. finds his heart and brain warring with eachother, but when your lashes lower and you start to slide off his lap like a kicked puppy he grips you by the waist and tugs you back to him.

"sorry. sorry I'm just - not good at this shit. c'mere -" and despite the warning bells in his head - he kisses you. softly and tenderly. cups your cheek with one hand as he lets his other hand explore your body leisurely. not rushing to tear your clothes off like a sex possessed animal. and it's terrifying how easy it is to slip into. he likes you, is the thing. he likes fucking you, but he also like just you in general. your personality and your laugh and the way you smell and the way you feel in his arms. these are things he tries to shove down and not think too hard about whenever they pop up, but he kinda can't escape those thoughts now. they kinda drown him.

you melt into him. like butter - like you trust him. no one trust patrick zweig. no one takes him serious enough to entrust him with anything, other than a quick orgasm. but the way you're folding into him and pushing into his hands and the fact that you asked for this - all vulnerable and shit - you trust him -

that kinda hits him like a bullet to the chest and he groans into your mouth - shifts so you're underneath him and then words he didn't even know he had locked up are spilling out as he slots between your thighs, brings your centers together -

"you're so fuckin' beautiful." he tells you. brings his mouth down to your throat - drags his lips over your pulse point that flutters - he traces his tongue over your skin and you gasp, arching into him. whispering his name.

he sits up - and your eyes connect in a way thats too raw - filled with too much want - he reaches down to grip the ends of his shirt, and despite how it makes him feel, how much he wants to run. he doesn't look away from you when he drags his shirt up and tosses it aside.

your hand comes up to lay your palm on his bare chest, trailing down his stomach and it's like you've never touched him before. which is insane. you've drawn blood from digging your nails into his skin before.

but this is different. this is you taking your time to worship him with your touch - not just holding on while he fucks you into the mattress.

he has to close his eyes and breathe in deeply when your fingers skate over his stomach - leans down to take your lips again before he does something stupid .

you're kissing more frenzied now, and the rest of your clothes dissappear - more moments passing between you as he tugs your panties down your sticky thighs slowly. watching you as he kisses down your stomach reverently, tongues your bellybutton. kisses across your pelvis.

your hand shakes as you push it through his hair. "patrick," you don't say anything else and you don't need to. alot is packed in with just that one word, his name trembling past your lips.

he eats you out lazily - hands cupping your ass - lapping through your slit with slow and broad strokes. his nose bumping your clit. your head tilts back as you moan but he doesn't stop watching you - watching the way your stomach contracts with pleasure. your tits heaving up and down, nipples taut and hard. the line of your throat as you whimper from his tongue on your pussy.

hes never taken his time like this before - his mouth usually rough and demanding - eating at you like he's trying to pull your soul out through your cunt, messy and sloppy. he's taking his time now, though. gently pentrating your hole in and out, licking inside you with intense purpose. when you cum, he laps it up, moaning as if in thanks.

and when he fists his cock and looks at where your slick and wet and open for him, he thinks he's the luckiest fucking man in the world to have you under him and about to accept him inside you - spreading your legs almost shyly for him -

"ready?"

he never asks. you're always gagging for it. but this feels important to ask, so he does.

you nod and he shuffles forward, guiding his cock into that soft warm cunt he's so familiar with - he falls over you with a groan, ducking down to kiss you because he needs your lips, needs to feel you all against him as he slides fully inside -

"fuck, baby." foreheads pressed together as he moves in and out of you with slow strokes - "I love the way you feel on my cock."

you wrap him up with your arms and legs and he drops down more, until your chest to chest, lips brushing with every thrust. "you feel so good inside me," you tell him, hands gliding up his slick flexing back. "you always feel - so good."

"yeah?" he asks. you're so fucking tight. warm little pussy hugging his dick and flexing around him in little pulses. he feels breathless with how much he feels in the moment. "you like how I feel filling you up? giving you what you need?"

if his voice is a little desperate, that's his business.

you nod, your nose bumping against his with how close you are. "always give me what I need - fuck, I love fucking you - it's the best I've ever felt - " your hands move down to his ass, gripping the flesh and prompting him to start moving faster. "please. please fuck me. I need you - I need you so much, patrick -"

he feels pride swell in his chest.

"you have me." more than you probably realize. he thinks he just split his chest open and gave you his heart tonight on a silver platter. he yanks one of your thighs around his hip to get deeper - rocking you into the bed - "cum when you need to, baby. cum on my cock - let me feel you. you feel so good - sucking me inside you - m'gonna fuck you all night, n' you can just keep - fuck - comin' for me."

he'll probably have a crisis about this in the morning. but for now it just feels too right.

#ask #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig x reader

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sooniebby · 1 year ago

Note

Pleek danny i am begging for dilf nanamin who cant so much as make small talk with Ijichi's son reader without wanting to grab the reader and bend him over the nearest object,,,, huuhdhjdjsh for kinks,,,,,, sir kink, impact play, brat taming,,,, also ftm reader bcs yk <3

ఌ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

꧁ 𝙆𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙭 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

w.c. › 7.1k

Warnings › reader is kinda ditzy. But also unintentionally bratty and kinda crazy. Age difference, obvs. Plot… again—Femboy-ish reader in the fact some of his clothes are more feminine. Slight transphobia but nothing terrible, just two people who suck ass. Slow-ish slow burn like the Toji fic… also just start fucking randomly

Kinks › use of pussy/cunt/feminine terms, sir kink, impact play, brat taming. Reader is called good boy.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

“Excuse my son, I need to drive him to his performance.”

“Hiii~!”

You wave at the man who gets into your dad’s car. You didn’t know what type of job he did actually. He told you, ‘driver’ and that was it. So you never thought to actually question it. Though, seeing the people he usually drives… you’re starting to think he’s a mafia’s getaway driver.

This guy looked to be a bit younger than your dad, though certainly older than you. Blonde hair that was previously slicked back and now a bit messy. He sat in the passenger seat and was looking at his phone, texting someone.

When he was walking up to the car earlier, you were pretty sure he was holding a butcher knife.. but it was dark so you decided to think you were over thinking it.

You sat in the back seat, watching the street lights fade past as your dad practically speeds down to the place you were performing today.

You played the piano. Not as a job, just as something for extra cash as a college student. It helped a lot—but it was hard to find jobs in the area, most were so far that you had to have Ijichi drive you.

The car came to a halt once Ijichi reached the house you were playing at. Some rich function happening. It didn’t matter, as long as it payed well.

“Thanks, Dad. Bye, Blondie.” You said, not waiting for any type of response as you stepped out. But much to your confusion, your dad and blondie got out of the car. Though they didn’t seem to be going towards the house you were. Just looking at the abandoned building a few blocks down.

Huh… maybe your dad really is in the yakuza business.

Shit, why didn’t that pay well?

You pushed back any curiosity to see what they were up to and walk inside the house. The performance, like always, was easy. You chose the fanciest but easiest pieces to play on the piano. It was hard doing it for hours straight with only ten minutes breaks between.

It was around two hours at the party, that your phone started ringing. You tried to ignore it, wanting to finish the piece you were playing. It was going well until the sound of something collapsing outside caught the guests attention. You heard screaming and yelling as everyone was moving around in a frenzy.

But you stayed put, knowing that if you stood up, you’d get trampled. Everyone was acting too frantic for your liking. Once there was a few people left, you grabbed your bag and walked out of the home, staring right at what looked to be a building collapsed onto itself.

It was the building Blondie and your dad was looking at. It confused you as there was a crowd of people running to their fancy cars and speeding away for safety. No one called the police —all too focused on their own lives. You stepped forward, towards the street to the now collapsed building. It was old.. but how did it just break down like that? That’s not normal. Did something push into it?

“Ijichi.”

A hand grabbed your shoulder. You shrieked and began to flail your arms around.

“Unhand me, troglodyte!!! I took taekwondo four years ago! I.. remember something!!”

“Calm down. Your father is just looking for you.”

You flinched when the hand moved to grab one of your arms, effortlessly stopping your failed attempt of taekwondo. You glanced up to see Blondie, his eyebrows furrowed while there was a small little cut on his cheek. Huh, was that always there? His clothes looked dusty, as if he was rolling around in dirt.

Was he in the building before it collapsed?

“Oh, Blondie—!”

“—Nanami.”

“That’s what I said. What happened to that building? It just fell.”

Blondie—Nanami hummed. “Old buildings can fall apart after a few years of being unkept.”

“Uh… okay.” You muttered, weirded out by his answer but decided that would be enough. “Where’s Dad?”

“The car.” Nanami nodded towards your father’s car that was parked farther away from everything. You saw your father leaning against the car, his arm looking a bit.. mangled to say the least. Feeling a sense of panic, you sprinted over there and came to stop once you got a clear picture of what happened to him.

His arm looked as if it was purposely twisted into an uncomfortable position. Ijichi gave you a tight smile, obviously taken from the pain. He used his free hand to lightly pat your head.

“What… happened?” You whispered, glancing over at Nanami as he walked over. You felt an odd sensation of protection as you quickly stood between him and your father, glaring at Nanami with a tint of suspicion.

Nanami raised an eyebrow, obviously confused on why he was being suspected as a the culprit. It was odd because he was obviously hurt as well—though to a lesser extent. The cut on his cheek wasn’t the only one as there was on his forearm that was actually still bleeding through the light bandage that was used from his sleeve.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Ijichi muttered. “Did you get paid?”

“Oh.. no. I forgot to ask for money—don’t know if she’ll pay me now though.”

“Well—as you can see, (Name), I’m badly hurt. I’ll need to go get this checked out.”

“Yeah, of course,” you smiled. “I’ll drive you. I’ve been getting better.”

“No—I need you to do me a favor.” Ijichi glanced over at Nanami before leaning in close to you. “I’m sure you know I’m not just a driver at this point—but for your safety I can’t say too much.”

You gasped, dramatically putting a hand over your lips. “No…. You’re a Yakuza member?!”

Ijichi stared at you as if you were crazy. “What—? Anyway, I’ll need you to stay at Nanami’s for a few weeks. Just so I can get better at the hospital.”

“Blondie?”

“Nanami.” Nanami cut in.

“That’s what I said,” you rolled your eyes. “Why? I can stay at the house alone.”

“It’s not safe. Someone…” Ijichi paused, as if he was wondering how much he should actually tell you. “It’s just not safe. We don’t know if he’d go after you. It’s safer to stay with a sorcerer—uh.”

You blinked. “Sorcerer? Right…” You grinned, thinking your dad was just trying to be subtle about his connection to the Yakuza. “Of course. Dangerous… gang leaders and all the like.”

Ijichi simply sighed. “Yes, sure. It will only be three to four weeks maximum. I’ll be healed by then. Nanami will drive me to the hospital and then he’ll take you home so you can pack a bag, okay?”

“Fine. Doesn’t seem like I have a choice,” you whined, pouting.

“Yes, you didn’t.” Ijichi said. He used his free hand and opened the door to passenger side of the car. You sat in the back once more while Nanami went to the driver side. As he drove, you couldn’t help but glance back at the collapsed building. While Yakuza were dangerous—you haven’t seen them collapse a building before. That’d just draw too much attention to them.

At the very least, you hoped Nanami lived close to your university. It was tiring having to rely on your dad’s car to get places since you lived on the outskirts of the city. But there was an aching feeling in your stomach. How.. did your dad’s arm twist like that? Will it actually be able to be fixed?

Right before you tore your eyes away from the building, you saw the flicker of red eyes.

𖥸

Blondie’s place was actually pretty nice. It was a nice little apartment—decorated decently. Though it was obviously done by an older man. You felt odd being in a stranger’s place but you trusted your father’s judgement so you didn’t complain a lot. At least verbally.

The apartment was on the sixth floor, with nice glass windows in the living room giving you a nice gaze into the city. The building lights kept the room bright even before Blondie turned on the lights. You checked the bag you were carrying, making sure you had your shots. Blondie was carrying the heavier bags—you had practically forced him to.

Just a couple of pouts and blinks with your long eyelashes got him carrying them.

“I have a spare bedroom that you’ll stay in. There’s no attached bathroom.” He said. He walked over to a hallway that had three doors. The left was the bathroom. The right was your new bedroom and the center is obviously Nanami’s room.

As he opened the door, the room was less decorated than the rest. But that made sense—no one would be in this room often. The room didn’t look too small—a queen size bed in the middle and a singular night stand to accompany it.

A small dresser in front of the wall facing the bed—and…

A tv that had a crack on the right side of it. Blondie noticed your shocked face as he placed your bags on the bed. “The movers dropped it.” He simply said.

“Eh. Does it still work?” You muttered, grabbing the remote that rested on the nightstand. You turned it on and what played was cartoons—but in English.

“Somehow it’s stuck on Australian cartoons. I can’t change it, it was bought second hand.” He said. He grabbed the remote and seemed to try again and see what was wrong with the settings. You wondered how he could understand the English but didn’t ask. He must’ve studied English or something.

Nanami hummed as he gave you back the remote. “You can still at least flip through the channels. A few have Japanese subtitles.” Was all he said as he left the room. You glanced over at him as he closed the door behind himself.

Huh. That was abrupt.

You placed your bag on the floor and decided to just unpack everything into the small closet. It was weird to be staying at a man’s place you literally met today but if your dad trusted him, you’d “trust” him too. But at the thought of your dad, you kept thinking of his arm. The mangled arm that couldn’t possibly be fixed. But he seemed so sure.

You knew your dad treated you a bit childish compared to adults your age with their parents. It was okay when you were a kid but ever since you started transitioning it has gotten worse. But you knew why. He just wanted to protect you… It was evident in him not trusting to allow you stay home alone.

The light clink of syringes caught your attention when you accidentally jostled your bag. You took out one syringe and one of the small bottle. It took forever for you to even get the option to take testosterone. As you prepped yourself for your shot, you thought back to the red eyes. Did you imagine that?

Did you actually see that…? Or was your eyes playing tricks on you?

As you packaged the dirty syringe into a plastic bag, ready to be disposed of, there was a knock on the door. The door opened and Blondie was holding a bowl of noodles. He placed them on the nightstand.

“I would’ve made you a proper meal.” He said, vaguely pointing to his properly bandaged arm. “But I need to be careful. When you’re finished, put the bowl in the sink. Good night.”

Then he left. Again.

Gosh, why was he so abrupt when it came to his goodbyes?

The ramen was okay. It’s as good as gas station ramen is gonna be. As you placed the bowl in the sink, you walked past the living room to reach your room when you passed by a photo. The photo was inside a glass cabinet—connected to the small piece framing around the tv. You leaned in close, wanting to see who it was.

It looked to be a much younger Nanami.

Oh wow—was he emo? You laughed to yourself at his haircut. Next to him was a girl, a guy with white hair—strange, and a guy with black hair.

Wow, another emo.

You noticed someone next to Nanami, on his left.

A guy with brown hair. He looked cute—he had a wide smile. Cute.

You hummed. Their uniform looked kinda weird. Nothing close to what you wore in high school. Hm, were they also about in the Yakuza?

Do the Yakuza hire young people?

As you thought deeply on your “profound” question, you pulled away from the cabinet. Well, it wasn’t much of your concern. If you were lucky, Blondie didn’t work for the Yakuza anymore. With a huff, you walked back to your room and went to sleep for the night.

𖥸

“Blondie?”

He wasn’t there. You checked around the apartment the next morning, wanting to simply talk—mainly ask him to make you some breakfast—but he wasn’t there. Or anywhere for that matter. You plopped down into the couch and checked your phone, pouting to yourself as your thumb hovered over your father’s contact.

“She’s always in your shadow! Why did you raise her like that?!”

“Don’t speak about my son like that! You were the one who decided to not raise him, it’s not (Name)’s fault he doesn’t want to go to you.”

“Him, him, him! It’s time you stop allowing this nonsense to continue, Ijichi.”

“Whose last name does he have? Ijichi (Name)! I’ll be the one to raise my son how I see fit.”

“Fine! Continue letting ‘him’ play dress up! When that child of yours is still living in your home while giving you no grandchildren, don’t cry about how you wished you had a normal daughter!”

“Ijichi.”

You gasped, looking up as you saw Blondie staring down at you. Your eyes felt blurry—you couldn’t really see him. Blondie kneeled down, removing your glasses as he handed you a handkerchief. It was soft in your hand, as you lightly dabbed it under your eyes before full on using it to stop your tears. You didn’t even know what happened.

You didn’t want to think about her.

That woman who carried you for nine months.

Gosh, you hated her.

But she still brought you to tears so easily.

“Th…anks… Blondie.” You whispered.

“Nanami.”

“That’s what I said.”

Blondie didn’t seem to care about why you were crying. Or at the very least, was being respectful in not asking. He was still a stranger. You continued to wipe away your tears, silently grateful he was back from wherever he left off to.

“Where’d… You go?”

“Store. I was missing a few things to make breakfast.”

You glanced over to the kitchen and indeed saw him preparing something. When did he even get back? Were you that deep into your trauma flashback that you didn’t hear him? You felt your cheeks flush hot. Fuck, that’s so embarrassing. As you began rubbing a bit harder to try and lessen your puffy red eyes—your phone began to ring.

With speed you’d question back at, you checked to see who was calling.

It wasn’t your father.

Shit, it was just some guy you had in your class. The damn leech when it came to your recent project you were doing for history.

He didn’t want to do anything and embarrassingly enough, you were doing everything at this point.

You tossed your phone onto the coffee table and sighed, draping the handkerchief over your eyes as you leaned back onto the couch. You’d speak to him tomorrow. The sound of chopping and sizzling filled the room as you slowly drifted off to a comfortable nap.

It always felt good to sleep after a cry.

When you woke up, it was dark out. Shit. You glanced around the living room—noticing you had a blanket on you. As you folded the blanket back and rested it on the couch, you walked to the kitchen. You opened the fridge and saw the food Blonde was probably making. It looked to just be an omelette.

Good enough.

After microwaving and sitting down back at the couch to eat you briefly wondered where Nanami could’ve went.

Ah.

Yakuza, probably.

𖥸

“Ijichi, why didn’t you answer my phone call?”

You sighed as you were roughly grabbed by your infamous slacker. You stared at him with no intention to really speak to him—just let him rant about how “you’re not listening to him” or “why do you hate him?” Whatever bullshit he comes up with.

“I’m trying to help with this project, really,” he begins and then just blabbers on.

You don’t pay attention. It goes on for maybe a few minutes until you see a crowd of people leaving their classroom. Perfect. You pushed slacker’s hands off of you and seamlessly phased into the group of people walking away.

It’s only been about two days but it felt like years since you’ve seen your dad.

Huh.

Maybe she was right about—

You shake your head. Fuck that lady! She’s burnt flesh now anyway.

As you walk away from your university, you came face to face with a dilemma. You don’t know where Nanami’s apartment is—you kinda just left on auto pilot to not miss class. And shocker, you never got his number to call him.

Well shit.

You aimlessly walked around the city for a bit, just enjoying the nice day. The sunlight shined down onto you as you giggled a bit. Hm, the sun is nice. You decided to just text your dad for Nanami’s phone number. So while you waited for him to answer your text—you stopped by a nearby cafe for some coffee.

Right when you left the cafe, you noticed something weird.

Red eyes just staring at you—right from across the street. Inside a building that looked to be abandoned. Wow, when did Japan have so many abandoned buildings. You instinctively stepped forward, trying to see if this was just something you were seeing by chance.

You used the cross walk to go across the street, getting face to face with the building. But the eyes were gone. You hummed, starting to believe maybe you were going through it. This is perhaps the longest you’ve gone no contact with your dad—you’re probably just worried. Especially with the injury you saw him with.

A mangled arm.

Anyone would be reeked with worry.

As you pulled out your phone to check if your dad answered you yet, you felt yourself freeze. There was someone watching you. No… something.

You glanced up, looking into one of the building’s window and gasped in shock at the sight of what you were seeing. It wasn’t human. And it looked like a huge centipede, staring at you as if you were a piece of meat. You booked it, immediately.

Your legs burn from running but you didn’t stop. You kept going and going until you felt a bit safe in a public area. Just… what the hell was that? When did centipedes get so big? And it was looking at you so hungrily?! What the hell?! With your thoughts focused solely on your new discovery of big centipedes, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You shrieked, ready to fight but sighed seeing it was just the slacker.

“Ijichi, man, the fuck are you avoiding me for? I’m seriously trying to get a good grade here! If I fail…”

You tune him out again. Wondering how the fuck he was able to find you. His grip was tight around your arm before it slowly slid to your back. You slightly paid attention to what the hell he think he was doing touching you so much until you felt his hand slightly slide down your waist.

“What in—”

“—look, if the reason you’re just ignoring me because you’re scared about what you really are, most people practically know and don’t care. I don’t care about that queer stuff!”

You blinked at him, wondering how he went from zero to a hundred. You didn’t care that people could probably tell you were trans so long as they didn’t bother you. But now you were about pissed off this guy was making you do more work for this damn project and now making it seem like it was your fault—not his inability to work.

“Listen here, Slacker—”

But you didn’t have to say much when he was pulled off of you. You grinned. “Oh! Great.” Slacker fell to the ground and looked up—you did the same, looking to see who was your savior of the day.

Oh.

Just Blondie.

“Oh, Blondie. I was looking for your apartment, I also need your phone number.” You said, smiling softly, forgetting all about the slacker on the floor. Blondie simply hummed as he grabbed your arm and began guiding you to his place, leaving slacker on the floor yelling after you.

Which was… two blocks from where you were standing.

Oh wow. Definitely made sense in why you got to your university so quick. Blondie’s apartment was just ten minutes away. Ahah… embarrassing.

Once inside the apartment, Blondie seemed set on ignoring you again. Which seemed to be all he was doing these few days you stayed here. But you didn’t know why. You huffed to yourself, pouting as you dropped your bag on the floor and plopped down onto the couch, ready to watch some tv.

“Blondie~!” You sang, grinning lightly. “You’re in the kitchen still, right? Can you get me something to eat? Please~?”

You didn’t get a reply back. You briefly wondered if he wasn’t going to do it so you moved to sit up but was proven wrong when Blondie gave you a turkey sandwich. You quickly took the plate and began eating, humming after having not eaten lunch. But Blondie was still staring down at you, his eyebrow slightly raised as if he was waiting for you to say something.

Your lips pursed as you thought what he needed to hear until you gasped. “Oh, thanks, Blondie.” You muttered with your mouth still full as you began eating again.

You only got a huff in response as he walked away to do whatever he usually does. As you ate, you thought back to that centipede. Was that really real? There’s no such thing as monsters, anyway. You wondered if you should tell Blondie—but what could he do realistically?

Well, he’s in the Yakuza, maybe he could find a way.

𖥸

It’s been about two weeks now. Your dad still hasn’t returned much of your texts but you had gotten closer to Blondie. As much as you could anyway. He was very cut and dry with his answers to you.

You ask him how his day went, he’d answer with a curt: “okay.”

Ask him about what he does for work: “office job.”

He seemed to have trouble really looking at you when you spoke to him. He’d glance at you and then suddenly look at whatever he was doing with such intensity as you tried asking him questions. Or even just talking to him. Boring!

You were starting to believe he had a problem with the clothes you wore. When you dressed in baggy clothing, he would look at you more. But whenever you wore a tighter top or even shorts that showed a sliver of your ass, it was like looking at you would’ve burned his retinas!

Geez, did he not like guys in tighter clothing?

Damn… you must’ve been pretty ugly to him.

As you mentally cried to yourself about being seen as ugly on the couch, you glanced at your phone. You haven’t seen that slacker after you sent in the project. Of course you told the professor you did most and if not all of the work. So, you got an A—obviously.

You haven’t seen any human sized centipedes in a while so you were set to just believe you were imagining it. As you tugged down at your shorts that were acting like underwear at this point, you heard the front door open. Oh, Blondie’s back!

You grinned and went over to him, smiling. “Blondie! You’re early, they let you off?”

Blondie hummed. “I had a half day.” He simply said, walking over to the living room as he sat down with a grunt. He looked a bit tired so you decided to just not say anything else to him. There was always a few days when he just came home with a look of dread and was totally silent.

You were really starting to believe he was a Yakuza member.

As you turned to walk to your room, you bent down for a second to pick up a pillow that had fallen when you previously jumped off the couch. When you stood back you, you turned around to see Blondie staring at you with wide eyes. You simply smiled at him and placed the pillow back on the couch. Weird, why was he staring at you like that.

“I’m going to my room. Call me if you need me.” You said, waving goodbye as you sprinted off to your room, not knowing that Blondie’s gaze didn’t leave you at all.

𖥸

Nanami rubbed the bridge of his nose as he tried not to think about you essentially just flashing him earlier. When you had bent down to grab the pillow, he saw that your shorts, that were too short in his opinion, the crotch area had kinda sort of—clung to one side. So he saw it, at least just one lip—of your cunt.

And he felt angry with himself that his cock actually twitched at the sight. Was he some damn animal? He’d certainly been feeling like that the last two weeks. He couldn’t exactly… speak well with you. You just staring up at him with your cute smile but painfully naughty clothing.

Who just wears a shirt that is practically clinging to your body that it hides nothing to the imagination! And your shorts… who wears such short shorts with no underwear?

He wasn’t sure if he could take another few weeks with you here. Not if he didn’t want to just slam you against the wall and take you there.

But no, he couldn’t do that. You were Ijichi’s son. And he was pretty sure when Ijichi said: “take care of my son.” He didn’t mean fuck his son. Though he kinda wished he did.

It’ll be fine. Just a minimum of two more weeks… then you’d be gone back at home with Ijichi.

𖥸

Nanami wished he had just gone straight to bed. He was sitting on the couch watching tv when you suddenly appeared, dressed in a stupid crop top and short shorts. You plopped down beside him before resting your head right on his lap. When he tried to push you away, you only whined, pouting up at him to let you stay.

Damn brat.

He tried focusing back on the show he was watching as you seemed to only have wanted contact with him. You hummed softly before giggling.

“Nana—Blondie,” you said, looking over at him. “Today’s my mom’s death anniversary.”

He glanced down at you, a bit confused on why you didn’t seem bothered on your mother being dead.

“She died in a car crash. Drunk driving. The hospital said she burned to death in her car… witnesses said they heard her screaming as they tried to open the car door and out the fire.” You sighed, a soft smile on your lips as you recount your mother’s death. “I was 18. It was a good early birthday gift. But Dad said I shouldn’t be so cruel to her even if she was a bitch.”

“It’s not strange,” you said, turning your face to rest on Nanami’s leg as you glanced up at him. Your eyelashes batting as your lips were pulled into a pout. “To not care about a bitch dying, right? I’m sure there’s someone everyone has that they just can’t wait to die.”

Nanami wasn’t sure what brought this out. He was actually a bit worried honestly that you were so nonchalant about death. Though he could tell that despite this act you were pulling, her death did affect you… but perhaps it truly did bring a sense of peace. Especially if her death was truly that horrible.

“I can’t speak on that.” Was all he said, deciding it was best to let the conversation die out. He’d tell Ijichi to schedule you a therapist once he’s better.

“Hm, yeah, I did bring it out of nowhere. Anyway, my birthday is in four days! Getting me anything?” You giggled.

“No. I didn’t know it was your birthday.”

“What? Blondie~! Whaddya mean? I’m practically your roommate by now, and roommates give each other gifts.”

“Are you truly my roommate when I do everything?”

Which was true. You were more like a freeloader. Nanami did the chores, cleaned up mostly after you, and paid for literally everything. You were silently forbidden on doing your piano jobs so you were kinda shit out of luck, relying on Nanami at this point.

You simply huffed. “Meanie.” As you moved your head to face Nanami’s stomach. Nanami couldn’t help but flinch as he felt your nose accidentally brush against his crotch area. His grip on the remote tightened as he so desperately wished he was rude enough to push you off of him.

It was quiet for bit, just the tv going on with the show Nanami was watching. And subconsciously, Nanami began to calm down a bit and just allowed you to stay there. Maybe you really did just want some comfort.

There was something pressing against his crotch. He glanced down to see you, purposefully, rubbing your nose against his crotch before pulling away. You yawned, acting as if you were just essentially teasing him and grinned.

“I’m going to bed, Blondie. Think about what you’re getting me for my birthday!” You winked, standing up as you walked back to your room. He was so sure you were intentionally swaying your hips. What the hell was that?

And why the hell was he horny from a freaking nose rub?!

𖥸

Blondie, Blondie, Blondie

That’s all you called him. Occasionally, you’d say, “Nana—” but then quickly switch back to Blondie. It was as if you were intentionally trying to get him upset. Nanami didn’t know how a calm man like Ijichi could have a son like you.

The only similarity you two had was the glasses you both wore. It actually was the same brand and shape—weird.

You seemed to have two pairs of glasses though. You were the ones similar to Ijichi’s often and this pair of red ones whenever you were feeling “annoying.” Nanami had come to expect the red cat eye glasses whenever you wanted to be a little brat.

And look at that, you were wearing them right now.

Nanami was sitting on the couch, checking something in his phone when you suddenly appeared behind him. He didn’t look up, waiting for you say something until he felt your arms wrap around his neck. His body stiffened as you leaned close, pressing your lips against the tip of his ear.

“Guess what’s tomorrow?” You whispered. “B-i-r-t-h-d-a-y.” You intentionally made each letter sound breathy, pausing just a split second to let them sit heavy in the air.

You pulled away and giggled. “Got my present? You gotta make up for Dad,” you went to sit on the couch and glanced over at Nanami who looked as if he would keel over if a gust of wind blew past him. His grip was tight on his phone, you were a bit worried it’d crack.

“What was that?” Nanami suddenly said, still looking straight.

“Was what? It was for dramatic effect!” You said honestly, not knowing how sexual you had just sounded in his ear. Nanami turned over to face you with a look of pure disbelief while you simply grinned.

“Aw~ poor Blondie, don’t take it so seriously!” You playfully pat his leg before grabbing the tv remote and turning it on. You were engulfed into the random Japanese drama playing while Nanami could only just stare at you in awe.

Wow. You really were a damn brat.

It was fine though. He had the perfect birthday present now.

𖥸

It was your birthday!!

Which meant no school. Why would you willingly go to school on your day? Only losers do that! You sighed comfortably on the couch as you turned on the tv to play random Korean dramas for most of the day. And that’s how you spent most of the day.

It was around noon when your phone buzzed. You expected it to be one of your very few friends that you have but much to your shock with was your dad! You squealed happily and quickly opened the text he sent.

‘Happy Birthday, 🐹, I’ve been feeling better, don’t worry about me. I’ll be able to call you soon. I hope you aren’t giving Nanami too much trouble.’

You pouted but quickly texted him back, stating that you and Blondie were practically pals at this point. It brought a smile to your lips to see the hamster emoji though. You had quite chubby cheeks even has an adult that your dad loving pinching. It always looked bigger when you ate.

It was commented more when you were a kid but there was still some people who would—lovingly—call you a hamster in disguise.

Finally having confirmation that your dad was at least alright, you felt a heavy weight lift off your shoulders. You yawned and stretched out, turning your attention back to the tv as you spent the rest of the day lounging around.

It was dark out when Nanami finally came back home. You waved from the couch, not bothering to get up. You were always lazy on your birthday. Definitely from being a bit too spoiled on these days. But hey, at least you didn’t act like this everyday.

You could see Nanami did have a small box in his hand as he moved to the kitchen. You silently hoped it was a cake as you finally sat up a bit and moved to join Nanami in the kitchen.

“So now you’re greeting me,” Nanami said, placing the box in the fridge. You pursed your lips, wondering why he seemed a bit upset. It wasn’t like you greeted him all the time when he walked through the door.

“You like that stuff? Aw~,” you walk over to him, resting your hand on his shoulder. “You like those couple stuff? So cute, Blondie!”

You hummed when you felt his hand grab yours, slowly pulling it away from his shoulder. You glanced up, wondering if you perhaps went a bit too far but Nanami didn’t seem angry. On the contrary, he seemed like his usual self. He used his free hand to fix his glasses as his grip on yours tighten.

“I’ve allowed you to continually act like a brat throughout your stay here—I know what you truly need as a birthday present.”

With sudden strength, you found yourself pinned against the wall, his body pressed up against yours. You were wearing a long shirt but your usual short shorts.

“Blon—”

“—Sir. Since Nanami is a problem for you to say, that should be easy for you.”

You blushed slightly, having never really called someone that before. But somehow, you didn’t find it in you to disobey. Nanami hitched up your shirt, grabbing the front end and pressing it against your lips. It took you a second but you bit down on it.

“Good boy.”

Oh no.

Y’know, you did find Nanami attractive, but you were always the type of person to want to stick to your age range. But this…

“You kept whining about wanting a birthday present,” his hands gripped your shorts, “do you want this?” He whispered against your ear, practically giving you an out.

You gripped the wall in front of you but felt yourself nodding, blushing in embarrassment.

“I need words, (Name).” He said. You felt your legs tremble. You wanted him to say your name again.

“Yes… keep going.” You whispered.

Nanami hummed in approval as he pulled down your shorts, making you left up your legs so they can be fully taken off. Now you were standing in the kitchen, pressed against the wall with just a shirt. Nanami’s hand traced your upper thigh, his hand ghosting your cunt but he never brought it close enough.

You whined slightly, looking back at him with pleading eyes. He gave you small smirk.

“Despite it being your birthday, you acted bad today, Baby.”

“H..huh? How..?” You muffled out through your t-shirt, a look of surprise in your eyes.

“You don’t really remember?” Nanami gripped your hips tightly as he forced you to pull away from the wall. Your hands pressed tightly against the wall as your back arched. His hands slid down your hips to your butt as he harshly gripped them, spreading them apart teasingly as you whimpered.

“You can’t have short term memory loss, (Name). Think.”

You thought for a second before humming. “Greet… didn’t greet you..” you muffled.

“Good boy. So you know you’ll have to be punished for not properly greeting me? It’s what’s brats get for misbehaving.”

“m… not a brat.”

Smack!

“I don’t like liars.” Was all he said before you felt another slap against your ass. You whimpered, your body shaking at each spanking. He wasn’t gentle in the slightest, not leaving room for a break. It was continuous spankings against each cheek, earning deep screams from you.

The spankings filled the silent apartment, swirling in symphony with your high pitched screams. You didn’t think this was really a good birthday present but you couldn’t deny that it was actually feeling a bit good in a weird way.

After a few more slaps, Nanami began rubbing your sore butt cheeks, pressing a wet kiss into your shoulder.

“Good boy. You handled that perfectly.” He said, leaning close as he grabbed your left leg and lifted it up. Your back was now pressed against his chest as you tried to keep a steady balance with now just one foot.

“Th…ank…you.. Sir.” You muttered out, tears staining your cheeks as you looked up at him. Nanami cooed, wiping away a few of your tears with his free hand.

“Now, do you think you deserve your present?”

You nodded, “yes.. yes! Please..”

Nanami seemed to take a bit of pity on you as he simply nodded. He wanted to tease you a bit more but he decided that since it was your first time and birthday, he’d be nicer. Though next time he’d be much more cruel.

You whimpered as you felt his hand graze your cunt, teasing one finger against your wet folds. It had been a minute since you even touched yourself down there. You were always too anxious that Nanami would be able to hear you or he might come home earlier than expected.

Just feeling his finger teasing you could bring you to an orgasm, but Nanami had different plans. He slipped in two fingers, earning a soft mewl from you. His fingers were large, easily stretching you out as he got you ready for his cock.

It wasn’t until you felt yourself close to an orgasm was when Nanami finally pulled out. Damn tease.

The feeling of a cock rubbing between your folds caused you to flinch as you gripped at the wall as some type of support. This position wasn’t the most comfortable but you were way too horny to walk to the bedroom or couch. You wanted him now.

Nanami was slow as he thrusted his cock inside your tight cunt. He grunted as you gasped, trying to get used to the large stretch. His fingers didn’t compare to it! Even though you were prepared, it took some effort for him to fully be inside of you.

You shivered, suddenly thinking that you were essentially fucking your dad’s ‘coworker.’ Fuck, well, maybe a few pouts and batting of the eyelashes will get you off with minimal punishment.

“Fuck… I’m sorry,” Nanami suddenly whispered.

“Mhm?”

With great force, your whole body was suddenly shoved against the wall once more as Nanami’s hands were on either side of your head, effectively caging you in. You felt him almost pull out fully until he slammed right back inside of you, causing you to cry out in shock.

You helplessly gripped at the wall for some sort of purchase as Nanami fucked into you like an animal. His hands gripped your hips tightly, moving you as if you were a fleshlight on his cock. The only sounds coming from his was animalistic grunts.

Your cunt clamped tightly around Nanami’s cock, as you tried to babble something but only moans left your lips. Nanami seemed so heavily into chasing his own orgasm at this point.

“Si…Sir… ‘m com..!” You tried to say but could only cry out as you felt your orgasm wash over you like a waterfall. Your fingers dug ineffectually into the wall as a way of purchasing yourself against Nanami’s harsh thrusts.

He continued going even after you came, his hips slapping against your sore ass. As his grip on your hips tightened to were it felt as if his fingers was digging into the skin, he slammed his hips one last time. His cock was deep inside when he finally cummed, coating your insides.

You shrieked, shocked that he came inside. The warm cum slowly seeped down your thighs as you felt your knees collapse but Nanami was quick to hold you up.

Nanami leaned against your back, breathing heavily. “Sorry… I didn’t mean for that happen..” he muttered. “Just lost control.”

You hummed, gently wiggling your butt. “Maybe I’m just that pretty.” You teased, looking back at Nanami. You giggled slightly, enjoying his unimpressed face.

A moan left your lips as you felt his cock slowly slide out before pushing back it. You stared at Nanami in shock, surprised an older man seemed to have a quick reload. He simply grinned.

You were screwed.

𖥸

You hummed softly as Nanami rubbed your sore butt cheeks, rubbing some cream on it to stop the pain. It had been just a few days after your birthday and now this “spanking” thing was constant.

And fucking. Very often.

Nanami was always cool and collected during your punishments but whenever he got his dick inside your pussy, he could never control himself properly. It was honestly funny. And a bit scary that he could do more than one round so quickly.

The most you two have done so far was three.

And that was just a few minutes ago.

“Hm, Blondie,” you still called him that outside of sex, “did I tell you about this huge centipede I saw in this abandoned building? It had red eyes and everything, it was like… human sized!”

Nanami’s calming massage suddenly stopped. You looked back and raised an eyebrow, wondering what was wrong. He was looking at you with wide eyes—which was shocking, Nanami never looked at you like that before.

Maybe being a Yakuza member didn’t mean he could handle it.

Well, shoot.

But you couldn’t help but think Nanami wasn’t shocked about the centipede.

More about that you saw it.

Huh. Yakuza members are weird.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

I think I made reader a bit weird lolol. Way longer than I thought it was going to be. I hope I did nanami justice, I have trouble writing him for some reason

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @remdayz @flurrina @iwishtobeacrow @smellwell @kiiyoooo @chill-guy-but-cooler @tomoeroi @mello-life69 @rhetorical-conscience @tehyunnie @ofclyde

#bottom male reader #x male reader #sub male reader #uke male reader #mlm ns/fw #ftm ns/fw #nanami kento x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x you #jjk nanami #nanami kento x male reader

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sanemisstalker · 1 year ago

Text

NSFW // KNY characters who take their pussy rare.

CW / Period blood / blood play / degradation/ (DOUMA) reader is viewed as livestock/ BDSM dynamics (Dom+submissive)

DOUMA

-Of course Douma eats it bloody. That's like, his whole character theme.

-I think Douma has a particular fondness, in fact, for bloody pussy.

-He can smell your hormones pulsing with each cramp. You're aching and pleading not to be touched too rough, and Douma is just shaking with excitement.

-he would never. Have you no faith?

-He's certain blood is actually better than your typical wetness. Says you're tighter when you're cramping. His dick slides better in your lining.

-Has an array of things set up to catch your blood for later. He has jars of it at this point. Keeps it on ice. You don't see him use them ever- You just know they're there, and notice when one dissapears.

-The worst part is that he assures you he doesn't drink them. Those would never be for him, absolutely not. He doesn't have leftovers, silly.

-You don't know where your blood is going, or who it's going into, but he keeps you too fucked out to care regardless.

-'Ah- Another one? Did you know, when you contract, You're pushing all the good stuff out of your womb?'

-He's saying this with you sat on his face. You don't quite hear him, and it takes a moment for you to grasp just what he's saying.

-If you knew him better, which you don't, you'd know he's talking about the actual lining of your wall. He views a womb as a particularly sacred delicacy. As if he's eating a holy relic of sorts.

-So of course he'll take whatever comes from it. It's like a cow with milk. When you stop bleeding, he'll eat the rest of you, but you've got quite a bit of life left to live cushy and pampered.

-He believes this bizarre little practice keeps him at upper two after all. Your bloody cunt is the closest he gets to religion, in a way. Women are so fascinating, with your ready to eat buffets for demons, and that dumb little button you have that makes you crave that?

-If he believed in God, he would be sure the menstrual cycle was a divine design, made especially with him in mind. Not only are you lethargic and aching, but he gets to bully you, and you're supplying him food?

SEKIDO

-One of them has to batter you back into submission when you're like this, and none of them seem anywhere near as capable as Sekido. Or as enthusiastic.

-You're a bit nippy during your period. The four understand this much. The other three seem content, in some capacity, to let you run your mouth. Sekido doesn't like being disrespected in any capacity.

-His clones encourage him to behave... not kindly, but mean in other, more helpful ways.

-It's really hard for him to not eat you whole, starting with the meat of your inner thighs. Your moans ground him, but also bring him dark thoughts.

-Would you moan if he started tearing through your flesh?

-He becomes the only one allowed to fuck you on the first day of your period. That's his bull to handle. His pussy to make a mess of. He plays it off as though he's handling an unwelcome task, but he's very quick to deny anyone else the right.

-Will degrade you if you enjoy it even a smidge.

-'Are you moaning? Disgusting! This isn't the time for hysterics!'

-Shocked and amazed when your cramps actually do lessen. Was entirely lying for the bit and doesn't believe you when you say you're feeling just slightly better.

-Is driven to a near frenzy when you cum and a drop of blood slips down to your taint. He's not wasteful.

-He's more upset at how much he enjoys it compared to how much you enjoy it. He shouldn't enjoy something so disgusting, and he assures you he's not, but his lips are covered in your blood, and it's really hard to take him seriously.

TENGEN

-four wives, one for each blood type. He jokes he knows how each tastes and can tell the difference by smell alone.

-Very public about this. Not shy to admit to his tastes. He pleases his wives constantly, let it be known that something as small as blood would never prevent him from such an important task.

-If he sees even one of you cramping, he's got you on the ground or the flat of the nearest surface to fix it. He hates seeing you in pain and will do anything in his power to circumvent it. His tongue is definitely within his power.

-Tells you that his seed really is a cure all, he isn't wrong. The warm liquid splattering up against your sore cervix- It's almost comforting in a way. Cooling, even.

-Loves fingering you, too. Places the softest, warmest hand just barely on your stomach, because it hurts so bad, but you tug it to your uterus everytime. A nice heating pad while he works out all the awful things.

-'Ah, does that feel better? I know it hurts, let your lord take care of it.'

-Such a service top it's almost sickening. Living with the three others, and having you sync up? Tengen has had more than one busy day.

-Will cockwarm you if need be. The sex is gentle in comparison. It can get rough if so desired. After the really bad cramps, he's willing to push aside any mess to let you chase your high.

-His thighs look really pretty covered in blood.

-He's his wives personal fuck toy, and he takes pride in that. Especially if they go from aching and exhausted to cumming and overjoyed. Helps them get back on the job.

-Tengen actually enjoys the blood as well. Thinks it adds a certain- artistic flare to your pussy. And to his dick.

AKAZA

-Eats pussy for his own enjoyment. At your service, hand and foot, 25/8- Does not care what state your vagina is in, he's just grateful to be here.

-A very calm lover. A very calming lover, as well. Doesn't care about taste, smell, visual- barely even cares how he got there. All that matters is that he's doing his job, and he's fulfilling your wishes.

-Such a service bottom it is UNDENIABLY sickening. Zero regard for his own pleasure, entirely subservient.

-See Guard dog and wounded master. Willing to lick the blood from any given wound if he believes it to help. Wishes his spit was healing because seeing you like this is gut wrenching to him. He isn't sure why, but he know it hurts.

-Kitten licks to your clit. He doesn't care if his tongue gets tired. His thumbs massage your lips, keeping your ass elevated at just the right height to make all of it fade away.

-Begs you to come even if he knows how hard that must be given the circumstances. Can't bare to see you in pain anymore than this.

-The head boarders on high. He's chocked you full of any and every pain killer from the time. As it works it's way through your veins, the soft pampering to your pussy becomes borderline overstimulating.

-He thinks you're squirming from pain, so he tries even harder to make it feel better. You can't stop cumming once you start.

-You're in tears under his tongue, and he's lapping up every drop of blood your pussy has to offer. It's euphoric for him, in a way. This was a large point of contention between the two of you. Never wanting to be eaten, and yet being satisfied in such a gluttonous way.

-When you push his head away, he looks up at you with a cakey, pink face. His eyes wide and wondering.

-'Was I too rough?' And when you shake your head no, and your voice sounds all too content, he can't help but smile. With his reddened, cum and blood covered lips, he looks a little too perfect.

-'That makes me happy.'

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #upper moon smut #hashira x reader #upper moons x reader #tengen x reader #tengen smut #tengen x you #douma smut #douma x reader #douma x you #akaza x y/n #akaza smut #akaza x reader #sekido x you #sekido smut #sekido x reader #sekido x y/n #hantengu clones x reader

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2-dsimp · 6 months ago

Note

omg zombie?? Rotting companion when?? I wonder if he's the slow type or the "I may be decomposing but I can sprint at a full 20 km/h" kind of guy

I luv zombiesss

-andwy tiddy hater

Cw: Heavy angst, obsessive/possessive tendencies, your boyfriend turning into a lovelorn zombie.

Synopsis: Soma, your boyfriend, happened to be the number one gamer in the world due to the fact that nobody could beat him at video games. Nobody except for his Lovely player two who he absolutely adores. One day during a zombie mob flash he sacrificed himself and got bitten in your stead so that you may live another day. Now as time passed, he was set to roam the streets as an undead zombie. Waiting to see you again to ensure that he won’t ever let the both of you be separated again. Not over his half dead body.

☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:

Soma, your boyfriend, is always so eccentric but sweet at the same time. He’d always make sure to mark down your important days on his calendar just to make sure he never misses a moment in his darling’s life. Which is everyday, from the moment you wake up down to the moment you close your eyes goodnight.

The Pro Gamers journal is filled with borderline obsessive scribbles of him recording the way that you sleep. And listing a bunch of observations about how adorable you looked curled up or sprawled out like a starfish. Not only that he takes the time to analyze and document every bit of your habits as if you he’s a biologist and you happened to be his precious specimen.

Either way no matter if you’re asleep or awake his hands won’t grow tired of drawing portraits of you. Within his sketchbook he used as an excuse to highlight gaming mechanics to his team. He’s pretty freighting when it comes to it, if you ask anyone on his team. They’d tell you to not even try and reach out towards it for a better look, since you get an automatic knee to the face.

“Oh my bad didn’t ya say that you wanted a close up of my combo breaker? Hmm? Not in irl? Well you Shoulda been more specific my guy”

Fast forward a few months, It all happened so suddenly when your part of town got hit with an unknown anomaly from a parasitic animal. That escaped from Devildom into the human realm. Successfully kickstarting a disease which made those who aren’t familiar with its origins. To fall into a frenzied state of loss consciousness and inability to control of one’s body.

During the earliest stages of the infection that spreading through your quaint city. Which was thankfully isolated from the rest to prevent even more of an outbreak. You were on a date with your boyfriend who was such a advocate for being spontaneous. Soma loved to surprise you with fun outings like going to amusement parks, para gliding, bungee jumping, kayaking, you name it.

But this time he wanted to give you a breather and take you on a lowkey cute date at a nearby cafe. Soma had an arm around your hip squeezing it lightly while he leaned against you like an over grown puppy.

“Lovie I’m so lucky to have you~ I don’t ever wanna live a day without being able to hold you, love you, kiss you, n fu—“

“Oh we’re here already! You excited to try out those cute menu items you’ve been fangirling about hun?”

Your boyfriend exclaimed giddily oftentimes having a habit of rambling on about how much he adores you on a daily basis. He went to open the door for you right after pressing a hungry kiss to your lips. It was something he always did before he had to leave your side even for just a brief moment.

Since he was paranoid in the fact that anything could happen to his cherished relationship with you. And he’d rather not it happen without him kissing you one last time.

You guys had just entered the door only to be met with a the rabid eyes and foaming mouths of the former patrons that dined there. It wasn’t any help that this cafe was jammed packed due to their popularity so it’d only take a split second for you to get snatched up by one of the infected standing in line.

You could barely register the way you were shoved out of the store by your boyfriend in an attempt to guard you from being taken by the horde. You stumbled outside the glass doors eyes wide with shock as you witnessed. A different side of Soma that you’ve never seen before, one that had him going batshit crazy.

Seeing how those filthy hands tried to take you away from him. Had him going off on a tangent about how he’d kill them twice over, for even trying to touch a single hair on your head. Claiming how you were his and his only and that nothing on heaven nor earth would change it.

Despite being outnumbered he put up one hell of a fight knocking the parasites down one by one into eventually one of them took a chance to bit his fist that he used to sucker punch their teeth out.

“Man you guys sure are tenacious for a bunch of deadweight…Shit just my luck”

Soma sighed, as if it was only a minor convenience that he’d gotten bitten. But nonetheless he kept letting his fist and legs fly not stopping until every single undead bastard was on the ground. Thanks to his self defense classes in karate.

It was only a matter of time before they got back up again so he turned around to give you a relaxed expression. A bright loving grin on his face as he asked you a simple question. While his veins became more prominent on his skin appearing in an abnormal pigment.

“Would you still love me as a zombie babes?”

You could only sob saying yes frantically as you watched your loved one turn into a different being. At your answer he let out a flippant sigh of relief before continuing to lock himself inside the restaurant. Using the key that was hanging off the hip of an employee he stunned.

“Good, then you’d better watch your back since whether im dead or alive I’d still be crazy in love with you baby.”

The gamer said in a soft tone that had a darkened edge to it, almost as if he wasn’t just trying to lighten up the mood with one of his lighthearted quips. But was issuing you an actual warning to beware of if you ever came across him while he wasn’t in control of himself.

Now go, your eyes should see only good things. And I’m afraid it’s gonna be ugly for me, Ah wait! Before you go…Give me kiss?”

Soma asked with a boyish grin pressing his face against the glass door with his lips puckered. As he waggled his eyebrows at you. It made you pissed off to say the least at how he was treating this a some kind of joke.

But you couldn’t help but notice his body twitching sporadically which was a telltale sign of how anxious he was. How scared he was of losing you. And how terrifying he’d be once he turned knowing that there’d be nothing to hold him back from showing his purest form of love for you.

Your boyfriend was already internally battling the urge to pull you against him. So you’d never leave his sight, that you two would be together forever regardless of death since nothing could ever change the way his heart beats purely for you. So just one more kiss, no matter if There’s a thin glass barrier, he just wants to be close to you, to somewhat feel you before his body shuts down on him.

You scrambled to press yourself against the door your palm on top of his. You gave him one last longing gaze, beforehand pressing your lips against the glass. Not noticing how he was just unblinkingly staring at your reflection. Burning the image of you so deeply into his mind that even if his critical thinking perished he’d never ever forget you even in death.

You were hesitant to leave him wanting to stay until his final hours but he childishly shooed you away. Claiming that he doesn’t want you to see him become an uggo version of himself. Since glowing down in front of his beau would be immensely embarrassing. He couldn’t help but feel a cruel twist of satisfaction seeing your reluctance to leave his side and those pretty eyes of yours welling up with tears meant only for him.

“We’ll meet again soon Lovie, mark my words, if you think I’d ever leave you alone then you’ve got another thing coming… So make sure to do your best until I come to make you mine once more permanently”

A few days later, the infection took hold of him but not in a way he was expecting. Sure he may have lost some of his humanity, but for a strange reason. The pro gamer still retained some fragments of his consciousness. His head was pounding from your name, invading his headspace. With every pulse of his brain that was fried at the moment.

Soma chuffed with a crooked grin, as he suspected not even death would take away his inherent need for you. Nor could it ever make it cease to be. He had to find you, sure it was selfish but he can’t stop from obsessing over your very being ingrained in his hazy memory. Where only the images of you were clear as can be.

Breaking the lock with his newly found inhuman strength, he became a half mindless zombie. Who actively searches for his you like a moth to a flame. Tearing everything and anything apart that stands in his way.

☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:

A/n: if you want to see more of your undead boyfriend feel free to send in an ask 👀

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caitlinbueckers · 6 months ago

Text

take care.

caitlin clark x reader type beat PART 2!!!!!!!!

6.2k (what the fuck)

ok. Listen!!!!!! This is long time coming and also is a disgusting amount of words and dialogue and like weird subtextual angst masked with smut honestly it’s pure delusion on a page also ending only slightly abrupt bc it was unfathomably long sorry

wasn’t gonna make the sequel so in depth like ??? How’d this one shot turn into a fic 😐 no Clue but all i know is that insecure sort of self deprecative caitlin clark with this soft dominance of a reader combined with two bitches who won’t admit their feelings is my crack!!!! let me know if a part 3 is even needed or if yall even care teehee

no beta simply just vibes

ANYWAYYZZZZZ love u guys sorry that i suck!!!

two weeks.

it had been two weeks since you’d texted that number with your name, a simple contact, and she’d liked the message, and that was it.

it wasn’t like things immediately changed— you still, somehow, made your flight despite the throbbing headache that reverberated in your skull, and you still were able to make sure you didn’t leave a toothbrush or a stray apple watch charger in the hotel room but, miraculously, you find a way to not mention a single thing about your one night stand until you touch down at home; manchester, connecticut.

you tell your friends all about it— probably missing some implied understanding about nda’s— and pretend like it isn’t that big of a deal that one of the biggest basketball players for women’s college wasn’t knuckles deep inside of you only the night before.

but it’s a big deal. and you know it is.

like her breath, fierce and rampant with each spellbinding curl of her fingers, wasn’t startlingly still replaying in your mind, her mouth soaking in each warm, huff of air that you expelled in the form of a moan. like she hadn’t watched as she fucked you, dark eyes somehow impossibly darker as her biceps flexed, the line of thick, corded veins that traveled her muscular arms somehow jumping with each pump of her fingers inside of you.

that the same, somehow blushing girl that stood in the elevator had regarded you like something to be challenged, like something she could fight for. something she could win.

you didn’t forget a single thing. not in the way she leaned down over you as her fingers quickened their pace, the force of it eliciting grunts from caitlin’s mouth as she tore you apart, piece by piece, licking the remains as her teeth grazed over a nipple, the sensitive jut of your collarbone.

“so pretty,” she’d murmured against your skin, almost absently, like she didn’t even realize she’d said it. “you like that?” obviously, it went without saying that you did (very much), but really, you’d learned that she wanted to hear you say it. it was in the same way that - as she’d recounted to you drunkenly in a hotel bar that night - she needed to hear the audience cheer. that the fans hollering and shouting was when she felt like she was on fire. it was the external validation that urged her forth, amped her up, kept her alight.

somehow, you could see exactly how it applied to her then, her eyes quick to scan over your face— your lips, to kiss them, before she’d ask again, urgently, “you like how i fuck you? huh? tell me.”

you’d nodded furiously, words tumbling past your trembling lips, “y-es, fuck, yes—“ god, it would’ve been impossible to pull more than a few words from you with how wrought you are, body unrelentingly tense, shaking and weak until she’d coaxed another orgasm out of you, her name sounding broken on your tongue as her fingers slow, the unrelenting grind from the heel of her hand finally relaxing to ride you through it.

she was unforgivingly good with her fucking hands, you’d come to realize.

and yet, beyond all of that, much to your friends dismay, you don’t call her.

no, in fact, you mute her name on twitter and block the IOWA womens basketball page because it becomes suddenly like a frenzy. she’s everywhere, more than usual, like some sick sign from the universe and as much as it seems almost the complete opposite of how you really feel, you decide that you can never see her again.

it’s not like the sex wasn’t phenomenal, or that when it’s late and your hand sneaks into your pants, your imagination doesn’t always seems to conjure up tall, pretty girls with brown hair and green eyes, or that she didn’t completely captivate you from the moment she’d looked at you, dumbfounded and sheepish in an elevator with a blush staining her cheeks.

it wasn’t that. in fact, it was the complete opposite.

it was because the moment you’d seen a picture of her online after the fact, looking tougher than you knew she was, you’d realized that the last place you’d seen her was from between your legs, and it felt like a fucking soul crush.

because she was beautiful, and smiling, and playing up that celebrity, all-star mentality that you knew she could back up, but that you realized wasn’t her in the slightest. because now, you knew her— sort of— and saw her in ways that nobody else had— that you knew of. more so, that she’d learned your body in the span of a night and then just left, and somehow that just wasn’t fucking fair.

there was a shroud of mystery that surrounded her, even if she belonged to the world, to her supposed boyfriend, to everyone, really— way more than she ever belonged to you, even if just for a night.

so you go on about your life, and you pretend you don’t notice the draft is coming, or that soon, the already well known athlete was gonna be world renowned, taking her biggest leap to play professional, and you’d be nothing to her, nothing but the girl she’d screwed in a hotel room when she’d gotten too drunk after the final four.

and sure, you find solace in it. but there’s also this lingering, nagging feeling of being unfinished, like there’s still more. there has to be more.

so, no, you don’t call her.

but, somehow, you find last-minute tickets for the draft— which, in the grand scheme of things isn’t completely selfish. the moment you’d seen nika muhl and aaliyah edwards up for the league, you’d known that you were going to try for tickets. you just, probably, maybe, weren’t actually expecting to hookup with the projected top number one draft pick, either.

but you did, so, you buy them anyway.

you let your friends tease you for picking a dress that’s sorta slutty and for spending more time than you should doing your makeup at whatever hotel you picked in boston, only a few blocks from the draft.

all in all, it goes exactly how you expect. caitlin gets number one draft, which only slightly makes you antsy in your seat, thinking about the fact that she doesn’t know you’re there, that she doesn’t know you saw her win big and that she possibly could’ve been thinking about anyone fucking else. your favorites, nika muhl and aaliyah edwards, get teams that you’re more than happy to celebrate, and watch paige bueckers and azzi fudd get shoutout after shoutout. it’s good, it’s fun— but fuck it.

you think you miss her. maybe just her fingers, or her mouth, but you realize in a weird swell of recognition as the guests are ushered out, your head spinning back every few moments to see if you can catch a glimpse of her, that you do.

you miss the cait you’d met— you just didn’t know the one that sat in the room now.

then, it’s all sorta funny, in a way, considering the situation you find yourself in once everyone begins to disperse, limos and SUV’s pulled up and parked outside of the venue, crowds of fans standing around the barricades to sit for their favorite athletes to pile out of the doors, to go to some super elite, exclusive party that you knew you had no place at.

you don’t expect any special treatment, and you don’t expect a text or a call— which is good, because they don’t come.

no, actually, they don’t come until later.

later, after you’d spent the rest of the night in a nearby bar with a couple of girls you’d met leaving the draft. they’re funny and they’re nice, gushing about the picks, talking miles a minute about all their favorites and making you pretend that the tequila doesn’t burn just a tiny bit more when they mention caitlin’s name.

it doesn’t come until you’re showered, dressed in sweats and pleasantly drunk, scrolling through the shitty channels when your phone buzzes once, then twice, then three times and it almost makes you click the lock button, shove it over in assumption of your friends bothering you about an unsuccessful night to woo a pro athlete— but then it happens again.

you can’t really decipher what makes you look at the random assortment of numbers and it suddenly click. maybe it was because you’d spent the past few weeks in a complete back and forth, scanning over a crumpled napkin with the name ‘cait’ and these specific numbers beside it.

you know who it is, and despite yourself, your heart catches in your throat.

“hello?”

“you made it.” her voice is deeper than you remember, and it doesn’t fail to make your cheeks burn almost immediately. fuck.

“huh?” you play dumb, mostly because it’s more embarassing to admit that you’d came all this way for this, for the slim possibility that she’d fucking notice.

“tonight, i mean. you- i didn’t know— i didn’t know you were coming.” you stay silent, because what else is there to say? had she seen you?

but she continues, “you should’ve told me.” and then, “i, uh— i would’ve liked to see you.”

she’s pathetic, and so are you. a hand comes up to shove back your hair from your face, breath increasing only slightly. “i have a hotel, like, smack in the middle of boston if you’re… like, if this is an offer.”

now, she’s silent. there’s a shuffle on the other end, a murmur of a voice that you don’t recognize, before she’s back, her voice closer, softer. “yeah. yeah, i’d, uh, i’d like that.”

you open your mouth to say something, probably alcohol fueled and embarassed, but she’s speaking now, a bit quicker, “just text me, yeah?”

then the phone clicks, and for half a second, you stare at the home screen as if this couldn’t possibly be fucking real.

but it is, miraculously, and god, it makes you kind of fucking horny to think that she’s willing to see you at half past three in the morning, so your fingers fly over the keyboard in record time— a pin being dropped through imessage with a confirmed ping.

it’s fucking go time after that.

you find the lacy, practically nonexistent underwear you’d brought, forgo a bra entirely, and try to find something a little less boring than your sweatsuit, before you realize with a sickening realization that the revealing dress you’d worn for the draft was the outfit you’d expected to see her in, and as much as you cared, you kinda fucking didn’t— she’d been inside of you, by now. clothing didn’t seem as pressingly urgent as it would otherwise.

it’s only about twenty minutes before she texts you, a simple ‘here’. you send a brief message, just the number of your hotel room, and pretend like your heart doesn’t practically pound out of your chest for each passing moment, eyes flickering from the door, to the window outside, the city bustling even at a time like this.

she knocks only twice, and it startles you enough that it takes your breath away.

the moment the door swings open, it’s like a wave of calm washes over you, a weird sense of solace that you hadn’t realized she could offer, mostly due to the fact that before you stood the caitlin you’d remembered from all those weeks ago, after final four. not the exquisitely dressed, superstar you’d seen earlier that night, in shades and clothing that you could never afford with an attitude you didn’t recognize.

instead, she stands before you at her startling height, in sneakers, sweats and a windbreaker, a hood over her head and her hands tucked into her pockets. once again, looking impossibly small for someone of her stature and it takes all that’s within you to not kiss her right there.

“you got here quick.” you mention, still only slightly breathless as she offers a smile that resembles more of a smirk than anything else.

“i was scared you’d fall asleep,” and it sounds as sheepish as it makes you feel.

you step back, let her walk in and inhabit the space, only slightly making your palms sweat to have her here, in front of you again.

you decide to take the initiative to plop onto the bed, looking up at her as you toy with a stray string from your hoodie, “i wasn’t gonna fall asleep,” you retort, looking up at her, catching a glance that you don’t break, “congrats on top draft pick.”

now, she’s blushing, shaking her head and pursing her lips, “still feels unreal, dude.” she murmurs, looking down at her feet before slowly, her movements unsure, she sinks onto the bed next to you. “you’re unreal.” you say quietly, smirking at her, because you know how she’d cringe at it, scrunches her face before shaking her head. “god, not by a long shot.”

you open your mouth to say something else, maybe tease her about it, but she clears her throat quietly, “but i don’t, uh- wanna talk about that right now?” she offers a mirthless laugh, “is that stupid?”

she turns to look at you, and it happens to only be a couple centimeters from your face once you look up, shake your head “then we don’t have to.” you agree quietly, and it’s impossible to miss the way her eyes flicker down at your lips, back up to your face, and it’s equally as impossible to ignore the flip you get in your stomach before you surge forward to kiss her.

she kisses the same, tastes like what you remember, if not marked by whatever cocktails she must’ve had, whatever liquor still sat on your own breath, and it washes over you greedily that you do fucking want her— more than whatever you tried to convince yourself of during the past two weeks, more than what you’d downplayed to your friends.

“been thinking about you,” it comes out rushed, murmured against caitlin’s lips, shakily from your own mouth as she lets out a slow, wanton breath. you turn to crawl up on your knees, swinging over her hips to push her back against the bed.

she makes a noise like it stems from disbelief, almost like denial, but doesn’t pull away, not even once as her hands, fingers long and palms wide, spread beneath your sweatshirt, span across the expanse of your back and grasp.

“i did,” you insist between breathless kisses, foreheads pressed together hard as her hand races up the front now, over your stomach, palm your breasts and elicit a pitchy gasp from the immediate contact of her cold hands to your sensitive nipples, “every fucking day.”

“shut up,” she denies it again, which only slightly irks you because as cliche as it felt to say during a makeout, it’s not like you would lie about how much you’ve craved this— or more specifically, her.

you try to really expand on the thought, but it becomes almost impossible when her lips attach to your jaw, suckling until her teeth are teasing the sensitive, thin skin beneath your ear, and you make a noise too embarrassing to recount before you can gather your words. “…missed you.”

caitlin makes a noise in her own throat, something between a growl and a groan as she arches her hips up slightly to press against you, before she shakes her head, pulling back only to look up at you from your position on her lap with this sick, almost torturous gaze. her eyes are lidded and feverbright, cheeks pink, and lips glossy, kiss-bitten.

“you shouldn’t think about me.” it comes out quick with her breath, her thumbs still slow in the circles they rubbed around your nipples, making your head arch back with a whimper before you swallow hard, her words almost too quiet to hear, “not worth it to think about.”

the admission surprises you, “fuck off, clark.” you snort, the words fall lazily out of your mouth, “so humble, huh?”

she gets hot at that, and you can tell from the way her face is pressed into your neck, the way a heat radiates from her cheeks right at that moment that makes your stomach swirl, your own hands coming up to tangle into her hair.

“…i‘m serious.” she insists, still mouthing against the same area of skin that you knew would be bruised, and pretend like her totally incognito, self deprecative words weren’t somewhat confusing and worrying you.

she was fucking perfect, didn’t she realize that? how could she not when practically everyone else in the world thought the same? maybe you were being dramatic or maybe you were just horny, but it felt achingly real in the moment that she knew that, even if she wouldn't listen, even if you'd have to show her instead.

“cait, i’m fucking serious.” you counter now, using the hands in her hair to tug, exploring the reaction that it elicits, which is something that apparently caitlin enjoys by the soft whine that jumps from her throat, the way her breath quickens, the wide eyed look she gives you.

it makes your head spin, your thighs clench involuntarily. she seems so fucking innocent, and yet, all knowing at the same time.

“is that… bad?” you continue, your own head ducking to latch your lips against her neck, feeling her pulse jump beneath your teeth, “that i… touched myself and thought of you?” maybe it was the cocktails or the fact that this could be the last fucking time you see her, but it’s like word vomit— every thought and emotion that comes to you is spoken without hesitation, and apart of you wonders where you’d gotten such newfound bravery.

caitlin must be wondering too.

“not bad,” it comes out of her weak, weaker than she is right now, melting under your mouth and the tight grasp you have on her dark hair, the way each strand twines around your fingers to where even the most minuscule move of your fingers elicit a huff or a sigh, “it’s… fucking hot, what the fuck.”

it fuels you, in some way, to hear her validation. for some reason, you don’t try to hold off much longer— your own sweatshirt is being pulled off in record time, tangled in your arms momentarily and flung across the room as you go to reach for hers, “off?” you hum in the midst of the movement, to which she nods, quickly, obedient and yet, so unruly.

she was a dichotomy of everything she stood for. a shy girl pretending to be a superstar, and yet, even in moments like this, quiet and intimate, it felt like a superstar pretending to be shy. you knew just how easily she could unload, dominate the situation— pin you down by your wrists and eat you out within an inch of your life, because she had.

but now, she’s relenting, and it makes something within you burn, strengthening wildly to try and tame that beast that you knew sat fervent beneath her skin, to try and prove that caitlin didn’t always have to be caitlin clark, she could just be this.

just a pretty girl you wanted to fuck.

besides, maybe you were making up for lost time, returning favors you’d been too drunk and blissed out to give the first time around when she’d finished you off with fucking ease.

as soon as she’s exposed, her black sports bra yanked off with little effort to reveal her breasts beneath, pale and dotted with freckles, a red line from the band of it standing starkly against it, you find your mouth lowering to suckle on a spot near her nipple, teasing against the bud and licking gently at the skin until you hear her breath increase, breaking only slightly into a whine that makes you swallow hard.

you pull away, just to look at her— dark eyebrows furrowed, focused in a concentration that you can only discern as someone fighting for the need to control, to dictate, to display the same use of her strategic authority that she’s used time and time again on the court.

you decide in that moment, that you won’t let her.

“let me take care of you?” it comes out softer than you mean it to, and you can see the trust building within her, slow to register as safe— and you don’t blame her.

you both are practically strangers, knowing nothing of each other than drunken conversation that had turned too deep, nothing but the sound the other made when they came, the faces they made. it was intimately unfamiliar, and perhaps that’s where caitlin had found the solace.

maybe she knew that at this point in her career she wouldn’t have normalcy. it was practically impossible for any person knowledgeable in sports to not know her, or even just of her. to a further degree, even most, with the exception of being well versed in women’s sports, had at least heard of her, and that was simply a piece of herself that had been taken, one she’d never be able to retrieve.

but this, this might be the one standing, single piece of lucidity and realness that was hers— locked away in a hotel room in a city unfamiliar to the both of you, and it’s enough.

it’s enough for now.

“you wouldn’t even text me back.” she counters, but it’s clear in her tone, regardless of how ragged, that it’s to prod at you, and it works.

“shut up.” you murmur as you press your hands to her shoulders, push her back against the bed to straddle her fully as you brush your thumb over her abused nipple, reddened and too easy to bruise. she moans when you press on it, and it elicits a smirk to your face that’s impossible to hide. “you’re here now, aren’t you?”

for some reason, it causes a sad sort of smirk to her face that’s impossible to miss, regardless of how quickly she covers it with an exhale of want, one that you know isn’t feigned, “where else would i be?”

there’s a million answers to that. press, interviews, sleeping, with her fucking boyfriend, but you settle for a small smile, “good point.”

you hope it centers her a little when the bruising press of your fingers translate into something gentler, more of a caress against her chest that you trail up to her face, and it almost twists something inside of you to see the way her face relaxes, leans against it as if it was some type of treatment or medicine to some ailment you weren’t aware of.

you go to pull away, to begin working at the ties on her sweatpants to unwravel her even more, lost in the softness of the moment and yet still blinded by the hazy lust until she speaks, quiet and barely there.

“did you really think about me?”

it stuns you for half a second, because the simple confession hadn’t registered to you as something she’d recall, something she’d look to expand upon.

but you’d always been honest, brutally so.

“yeah,” you say it as if it was obvious, when truly it wasn’t, and more so, probably wasn’t reciprocated, “i had fun,” a gross understatement, a weak replacement for all that you really wanted to say. then, if not a bit more revealing of your inner voice, “didn’t you?”

caitlin makes a noise that resembles a huff, but it’s not impatient, it’s honest. you wonder how often she gets to do that. “you know i did.” it comes out like an admission of guilt, under her breath, yet her eyes are unrelenting as they are sincere and it makes your eyebrows lift.

it makes your breath halt slightly, “is… not having fun in your contract or something?” you lace it with a quiet chuckle, mostly because you don’t want to make it too deep, too revealing to ask, but part of you thinks it’s expanded beyond that already, had been since she'd called you at three in the morning, just to say that she'd seen you, that she wanted to see you again.

her hands rise from her sides to rest against your thighs, and the touch is welcome, one that you relax into before she manages a half smile, “might as well be.”

but then, you see that surge of confidence again, something in her eyes glimmering as she squeezes at the skin of your thighs, hard, but your eyes remain fixed, even as hers drop, almost shy in her show of strength. “it’s why… i’ve thought about you like, everyday since... final four?”

that certainly makes your breath halt, invoking a reaction in your stomach and between your legs that you choose to ignore as you swallow, thumb still slow in its brush against her cheek.

“yeah?” it comes out of you rough, and she grants you with a nod as a response, then, after only a moment, she whispers, an echo to your words from before. “so... is it bad that i missed you too?”

“god, shut up.” you repeat again, as if somehow that was a valid response to being told such a thing by a girl you’d only had met twice, by a girl you knew nothing about.

you wanna ask her a million questions, know anything and everything: ask her if she’s actually into girls, if she’s actually into her boyfriend. mainly, if she’s actually into this pedestal that she’d been thrust into, if the fame was too much, maybe if it was never enough.

but you settle for shutting her up for now, because you can see the way her chest rises and falls rapidly, can hear the strain that it took to admit, and you realize, selflessly, that maybe you won’t let yourself ask for more.

not now, anyway.

instead, you lean up, uncharacteristically tender as you slide your lips against hers, feels the way she relents against you, slow and subservient.

“can i show you how bad i missed you?” your fingers tease the edge of her sweatpants, and she lets out a creaking groan, head tilting back and eyes closing as if in exasperation, before she nods. “please.”

you get right to work.

it takes only a little bit of adjustment to get her pants off of her long legs, to reveal the simple pair of black boy shorts that she wore, before you can finally tease a finger against the soaked fabric, reveling in the wetness that you knew matched your own.

her hips jump up, caged in only by your legs as you arch your middle finger, riding the knuckle against her heat, watching the way her face twists only slightly, lips parted in silent noises that you wish you could beckon out of her.

it is fun, you realize in the back of your mind, to pull her apart like this. without the inebriation clouding your mind from the last time, you feel almost startlingly cognizant of your own movements, of her reactions.

when you finally pump your middle finger into her, you notice the way her stomach and abs flex involuntarily, the way her voice pitches up and almost keens in her throat, catching with every stuttered inhale.

when you lean down to press your lips against the slickness of her cunt, press the pad of your tongue to her clit, she says your name— loud. it’s something mixed between a whine and a plead, long, dexterous fingers tangling into your hair and holding on tight.

you devour her, tongue slow to slide against her slick folds, to feel the surge of wetness spill out around your fingers, mixed with your own saliva. you drink her in like she’s a potion, or an elixir, something that you swear you can find and savor if you just go deeper, harder.

it isn’t until you feel her thighs tense, clamping around your head as she lets out a sound close to a gasping breath, marked with a moan that makes your head spin— she sounds so fucking desperate, and you’re bound and determined to give her exactly what she wants. what she deserves, really.

she comes on your fingers, in your mouth, and you relish every bit of it, quick to clean up the excess with fervor. she’s sensitive still, her breath huffing out whenever you breach too close to her clit, but you’re gentle. that’s what this was all about, right?

it’s quiet after the storm, your wrist sore and mouth wet as you sit up a bit, eyes careful to observe how hard her chest rises and falls. the way her hair, having fallen from its loose bun, sat in messy waves around her face, nothing like the impeccably straightened strands you’d seen at the draft, and it sort of makes you smile in an off handed way that you can’t explain, especially not when she opens her eyes finally to look at you.

“quit.” she says, and there’s a smile, tired and breathless, teasing at her own mouth as the hand that had fisted your tangled locks finally released, dragging down the side of your head to push your chin away lightly,

you can’t help but snicker, raising a brow, “what?” she rolls her eyes, and you repeat yourself, this time with a snort, “sorry, you’re just— you just look pretty like this.”

it’s hard to pretend that something inside of you doesn’t wince when her smile drops slightly, and you pretend like it isn’t uncommon to compliment the stranger you just ate out with such sincerity and honesty.

she’s slow when she says it, “...you always look pretty.” and it sounds wistful, murmured in a way that you can’t help but flush a bit at, as you roll your eyes now as if to return the favor, “you’ve only seen me twice, drunk, in sweats.”

but for some reason, that makes her smile return and for half a second, you let yourself pretend.

that maybe, this random series of hookups between you two weren’t fueled by some weird attraction slash escapism slash secret infidelity that had to be shared between you, or tucked away from the world. for half a second, she wasn’t caitlin clark, women’s basketball superstar, future member of the indiana fever.

she was cait, a girl you’d met at a bar that you’d hooked up with who just happened to see you again, and maybe, if you were a little dumber, and maybe a bit drunker, you’d admit to yourself that there’s a part of you that likes her, and each time you’d thought about her in the past few weeks, it had become achingly apparent.

but, you’re smarter than that, and definitely not drunk enough, so you pretend that her next words don’t make your heart skip multiple beats, as if it doesn’t cause a flutter in your chest.

“still,” she scoffs, and she’s sitting up a little, her hand having laid lazily against her stomach, reaches over to grasp your wrist, almost absently, “plus, i saw you earlier tonight, in that dress?”

it shouldn’t make you almost stunned into silence, but it fucking does.

“sorry— not to like, be weird and say i was looking for you but, i dunno, i just— i remember you saying something about UCONN, so i just assumed you'd be ther—“

you’re kissing her before even you can register what she’s saying, or why she says it all in this shy, almost sheepish tone that fills you with a flood of endorphins, butterflies being set alight inside of you.

“god, you’re so…” you’re not sure where you’re going with it, but you can’t help the way your hand comes up to hold the side of her face, dip your thumb against her bottom lip as if to make her taste herself, all as your eyes watched, lidded and fixed.

then, you exhale, only a whisper, “i’m gonna get you in trouble.” you manage to say, despite the very obvious fact that watching her suck on your finger is doing unspeakable things to you, before you drag the wet digit out, her bottom lip pulling only slightly.

“with who?” she says it almost as if you both know the answer, both thinking about the multitude of bigger names and bigger people who had long since been the determinant in caitlin’s career— at least from the little that you knew— and it lapses you both in a measured silence.

until she speaks, and it’s quiet, and sincere. “you’re just like… the only thing in my life right now that has nothing to do with basketball.”

it's a compliment, wrapped up in something a lot more sad, a lot more sincere. it shouldn’t make you want to hug her, but it does, so, you do.

your arms twine around her neck slowly, your face lowering to bury against her neck, just beneath her chin, and you can feel her chest vibrate slightly with a chuckle or a laugh, before her arms are around you, squeezing you tight, “don’t go all sappy on me, dude.” she murmurs, but it’s present in the way she doesn’t pull from it, or really, the way she fucking clutches onto you, almost desperately, that you pretend once again that this doesn’t mean anything. that this is traditional, hookup behavior, and that once she leaves this hotel room, everything will shift right back into place.

a place where caitlin clark gets to be caitlin clark and you get to be you, and there’s no overlap.

except, that doesn’t happen.

no, instead, once you pull away from the hug she kisses you again, hungrier this time, her hands sliding from your back to your hips so she can hook fingers in the edge of your panties, urging you to sit up on your knees so she can pull them down.

instead, she lets you ride her thigh— both hands firm and strong, her own biceps lfexing to keep you glued to her thick, muscle corded thigh, your cunt unforgivably wet as she dragged your hips down, over and over.

your head tips forward to press to her forehead, and she kisses you through each desperate cry that escapes your lips, the friction and slide becoming wetter, slicker by the moment, drawing these high pitched noises from your throat that you know caitlin is drinking in, all while she murmurs to you in this soft little voice, “show me good it feels, lemme hear you.”

in the end, you both pass out there, somewhat in a laying position as caitlin lays on her back, arms loosely wrapped around you, who’s laying stomach down atop of her, a thigh lazily hiked up to hang against her hip, your face pressed into her neck.

it’s fucking bizarre when you think about it.

how you both had talked more than you ever had before, and when you look back on it in the morning, nothing but a ghostly reminder of her presence by the sheets that lay strewn about, the undeniable smell of sex and sweat that still hung in the air, you pretend like you don’t realize just how little you still knew about her, and just how much that you wished you knew.

you also pretend like you don’t miss her, or that when you’re gathering your clothes to check out, a soreness in your body unlike one you’ve really ever felt, you’re practically stunned to see her faded, gray, IOWA shirt, thrown lazily over the desk chair that makes you wonder just how accidental it was for her to leave it.

you wear it anyway,

it isn’t until you make it back to connecticut, making up some excuse for your friends as to how you hadn’t been able to meet up with caitlin, how she’d been too busy anyway and you’d spent the night drinking at a bar, that maybe, just maybe, there was a part of you that wanted to keep her protected, confidential.

maybe it was the post-sex fueled lust that wanted you to keep it close to your chest, a dirty secret only for you to enjoy, or maybe it came from somewhere softer, somewhere that remembered how caitlin had such little privacy, that it almost hits you like a pang just how much you wanted her to still have that, even if it was at the expense of not seeing your friends faces when you told them that you guys had hooked up, again. even if she'd never know that you didn't say a word.

fuck it. it’s the least you could do.

you try not to think about her for days really, not until you’re doing laundry and come across the grey t-shirt, deciding only then that you’d pull up your goddamn bootstraps and finally send a message.

it’s cheeky, the wrinkled t-shirt thrown on over your underwear, leaving your thighs on display and the peek of a hip that you know is intentional before you snap a picture, sending it with little hesitation, and subsequently throwing your phone afterwards at the bed.

“you left something”

cc loved your message, “you left something”

“i know”

“guess i’ll have to come get it back”

it’s stupid, you know it is, but it makes you smile, typing with an urgency only known when texting back the pretty girl you like, before you send it, bottom lip teased between your teeth.

“how close are you to connecticut?”

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark smut #wcbb x reader #guys is this gonna become a series #im scared #caitlin clark

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sensivs · 18 days ago

Note

Caked up Male!Reader getting hit on and felt up by his classmates at Jujutsu High.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 2nd yrs and 1st yrs x m!reader (w a FATTIE)

꒰ঌ ໒꒱ : zhellas bby.. ur reqs have my SOUL on a leash 😭

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ : m! reader w a big ol booty , (kindve??) oblivious reader , free-use reader , these students got NOO SHAME 🙏🏽‼️ , booty grabbing , booty slapping , groping (basically) , nsfw jokes abt the reader, i HATE panda so dont expect him to be here

YUUJI - ✦

y'all know yuuji aint the type of guy to let a perfectly good ass untouched, hes a literal FIEN for ts. so it wasnt a total surprise whenever yuuji was around his hand would sometimes (if not always) near y/n's voluptuous ass. his hand on one cheek gripping the ever living shit out of it. he just couldnt get enough of how circular it was and how it jiggled every time y/n walked.

before training, itadori would slap y/n's ass as a "good luck charm", as if the boner in his pants would help him in combat..

MEGUMI - ✦

fushiguro is the FARTHEST thing of a pervert, but when it comes to y/n.. god he just cant handle himself

hes very shy with his actions, mostly due to the fact that if he let himself get handsy with you, he'd go absolutely FERAL.

just the slight wobble of y/n's ass is enough to boggle megumi's mind and keep him busy for the next 2 hours.

but nevertheless, megumi is still a sane and sensible person around y/n, although he can be seen stumbling over his words whenever he does get the chance to talk to him.

NOBARA - ✦

goodness me.. nobara doesnt know how to keep her hands off y/n's fat ol booty..

she thinks she can excuse herself because shes "just a girl and girls can always feel up their friends butt whenever they want to" (her exact words) of course, because of her totally convincing tone, y/n doesnt think anything of the close and personal touching nobara does.

nobara LOVES grabbing handfuls of y/n's ass and wobbling it in her hands. making sure to take in every jiggle it produced.

INUMAKI - ᰔ

y/n is EXTREMELY lucky inumaki isnt such a freak, cs if he was, he would be commanding him to make it clap every second of the day.

inumaki isnt as handy as the others are, in fact, hes the most calmest of the bunch. but he does have his moments where he just cant help himself and starts to mess around with y/n. such as commanding him to grab something off the floor even if he was the one to drop it in the first place.

seeing y/n's arched back and his ass swaying back and forth just makes inumaki go into a frenzy. wishing he could act out everything hes ever thought of doing to you.

MAKI - ᰔ

LORD.. maki has absolutely ZERO shame in her body when it comes to y/n's fat ass. shes constantly hitting on him and fitting both of her hands around y/n's juicy and perky booty.

shes constantly making sex jokes between her and y/n and even goes behind to give him some "practice backshots".

maki makes absolute SURE that y/n's ass is constantly in perfect condition, even going as far as to carry a measuring tape to keep data on y/n's ass to see if it has grown or not.

definitely safe to say that she is very.. VERY... dedicated to the research of y/n's voluptuous booty..

YUUTA - ᰔ

im tired of ppl trying to play yuuta as a "sweet summer child", this man is DOWN for a BIG, JUICY FAT ASS like y/n's.

although he does get a bit nervous when hes around y/n due to his ass being so big it can make him hard just by one small movement.

yuuta is always taking the chances to feel up on y/n's bottom. if hes lucky enough, y/n will give yuuta special permission to lay his head of his butt.

which, safe to say, has made itself a special memory inside yuuta's brain.

#𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 — +*:ꔫ:*#𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 — ♡.･✩°｡⋆#𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐈 — *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ #𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐓𝐀 𝐎𝐊𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐔 — ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡#𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍 — ₊˚⊹ᰔ #𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄 — ๋ ࣭ ⭑#male reader #jjk x male reader #yuji x male reader #megumi x male reader #nobara x male reader #yuuta x male reader #maki x male reader #inumaki x male reader

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ryescapades · 4 months ago

Note

I am so hopelessly in love with Narumi 😩❤️ he’s such a dork

Could you maybe do Narumi taking us on a date please 🥺👉🏽👈🏽 it would be so cute to see him fumble over his words tryna be all tough while he’s hiding how much of a simp he really is.

a/n: was planning on posting this tmr but since its 500 followers day today, i gib yall narumi as a present 🫴 tqsm anon !! i hope i did your request justice tho

the fact that you’re dating narumi gen isn't a secret in the defense force, per se. it's just that you never really flaunted your relationship because the two of you aren't the type to overdo the pda that much.

though you'd argue that gen would immediately stick himself to your side if he so much as catches sight of you in his peripheral. but nevertheless, the most you two would be doing out in the open is just narumi wrapping an arm around your waist as you explain to him about the findings you'd made that day, professionalism still bleeding out of your mannerisms.

intimacy behind closed doors and away from prying eyes is always the sweetest, you'd learned (read: narumi just doesn't want people to see how much of a putty he'd been reduced to whenever he's with you. he has a reputation to uphold, after all).

hence seeing him suddenly and openly asks you out during office hours kind of brings everyone to an immediate stop.

"hey. get ready in ten."

that's all he'd said, after bursting through the operation room door and marching to where you're currently working. you try not to cringe at the way the other officers in the room stare curiously and in interest at the two of you.

"excuse me?" you blink. narumi repeats his statement, making you gape even wider in disbelief. "gen, i'm still working. and you're..." you quietly trail off, eyes questioningly roving over his figure that's still clad in his numbers weapon 1 suit.

he only stands straighter, the looming bayonet in his hand is held carefully so that it's not bumping against the tables and shelves around him. by his stubborn stance, you know you're not winning this one.

and thus, you find yourself at a small family restaurant in the nearest neighborhood located in the inlands of koto city, shoulders brushing together as you sit beside narumi who is now dressed in the usual defense force uniform (you guys will eventually have to go back to work in a few hours, sadly).

"you know... we've been together for months. why do you look like you're taking me to our first date?" you say out of nowhere, mindlessly staring as plates upon plates of delicious food are being served in front of you. your mouth waters at the sight.

oh, forgot to mention how red your boyfriend has been for the past thirty minutes. he barely even looked at you ever since the two of you left the headquarters, opting to hide his eyes under the foggy grey of his bangs.

narumi seems genuinely triggered by your question. "h-hah?! i don't look like that! what the hell are you talking about?! maybe you just couldn't stop looking at me because i'm so good-looking, huh? i knew it!" he gloats, trying to play it off but his hand grips the chopstick so tightly you're worried they might snap in halves.

"gen, i could feel you hesitating to hold my hand one too many times when we were walking earlier." you point out with a teasing smile, sending him into a frenzy of offended swears as you secretly eye the way the tips of his ears are tinted pink.

a wave of emotions rush through you as he continues to grumpily denies your claim, your chest suddenly feeling tight with how fast your heart is beating.

narumi's ramblings stop when you reach a hand out to tenderly hold his face, the other moves to run through his hair back to reveal the beautiful pair of rouge eyes that you've grown to love. "there’s my baby." you giggle.

it's like someone has turned up the dial on his internal embarrassment thermostat to maximum, his insides are almost set ablaze at your loving gaze. "w-what are you saying, you—!" blood shoots up to his cheeks, painting the soft skin a pretty shade of red.

saving himself from further humiliation, narumi pulls away from your touch and bites out, "start eating or i'll finish everything so you won't get to eat at all!"

you take note of the small adorable pout on his lips, and that each one of the food he shoves onto your plate is your favorite kind.

#rye.works #the few opening paragraphs dont rly add up imo #but we ball #BABYGIRL NARUMI the crowd agrees in unison #kn8 #kn8 x reader #kn8 x you #kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #kaiju no 8 x you #kaiju no. 8 x you #narumi gen #narumi #narumi gen x reader #narumi gen fluff #narumi gen x you #gen narumi x reader #gen narumi x you #narumi x reader

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delulujuls · 8 months ago

Text

aussies do it better | op81, dr3

heeeeey (louder than anyone else) im serving today the koala bear and the honeybadger duo and im hoping y'all will like it!

at the beggining i was hoping for making this a smut but it turned out so wholesome, even though im thinking about still making it smutty, maybe in second part?? idk lmk if you like this one and if you would like to have more of them in a maybe spicy way

anyway pls enjoy and have wonderful day x

summary: sometimes we forget that the best things are often at our fingertips, danny ric being the best wingman possible, pastry boy being pure babygirl

warnings: cheating on a reader (but not them they could never)

pairing: bff!fem!reader x oscar piastri x daniel ricciardo

"Guys, quick break," Oscar announced, stepping aside and setting down his paddle.

"In the next set, we play together, we'll show them how it's done properly. In a Aussie style," Daniel said, grabbing some water and taking a few sips, to which Oscar chuckled, wiping his hair with a towel. It was a pleasant, warm evening. Oscar, Daniel, and a few friends decided to take advantage of the last free day before the frenzy of the home Grand Prix and relax in the company of friends. But Oscar's thoughts were far from relaxed. When he picked up his phone and saw a few missed calls from Y/N, his friend, his smile instantly faded, not escaping Daniel's notice.

"Something wrong?" he asked, glancing at him attentively. Piastri, still focused on his phone, just shook his head.

"I have no idea, but I hope not," he replied, quickly typing a message to his friend.

"Sorry for not answering. Is everything okay? Should I call back?"

He didn't have to wait long for a reply, as it came seconds later.

"No, nothing happened. I just wanted to talk for a moment."

Seeing him nervously tapping on the keyboard, Daniel approached him and glanced over his shoulder.

"Translating to our language, something definitely happened. She just decided not to bother you," he said, scanning through their recent messages from a while ago. "Girlfriend?"

"No, a friend. A close friend."

"Then you should call her back even more so," he remarked, looking meaningfully into Oscar's eyes as he raised his head to meet his gaze. Oscar returned his gaze to the phone in his hand and after a moment's hesitation nodded.

"I'll be right back; start without me if you need to," he informed, then quickly clicked the camera. As he left the court and stepped outside, the girl picked up. She was hastily wiping her cheeks, but it was futile, as Oscar easily noticed her distressed state. It was evident she had been crying.

"Hey, what happened? Why are you crying?" he asked, concerned, gazing attentively at his friend. After his question, she just shook her head and buried her face in her hands. A sob escaped from his phone.

"Y/N, please tell me why you're in such a state," he calmly requested, though his heart was pounding like crazy. He had no idea what had caused his friend to be in such a state, and the fact that he was on the other side of the globe and couldn't just come over to check on her only amplified his worry.

"Mattias," she managed to squeeze out just one word, but it was enough for Oscar to know what had brought her to tears.

"What happened? Where are you?"

It was clear that the girl was outside. It was dark, and she was walking briskly, her face illuminated only by the glow of her phone held in her hand. Her hair were messy and her mascara was smudged on her cheeks.

"I'm waiting for an Uber. I'm coming back from Natalie's birthday party, the one I told you I didn't want to go to."

"You ended up going?"

"Yes, and it was a mistake," she replied, sniffing. "Mattias was there too. I didn't even know he got an invitation. Turns out he did, and on top of that, he was having such a great time he forgot he had a girlfriend."

Oscar didn't even realize when he started nervously pacing, waiting for his friend to continue.

"I went there," Y/N continued, her voice trembling "after all, it would be stupid if I ignored my friend on her birthday. Then suddenly someone comes up to me and asks if I'm Mattias' girlfriend, and I answer yes. And he says I guess not, since on the balcony he's been kissing someone else. And he was actually making out with some girl! When he saw me, he looked as if he had seen a ghost. It didn't occur to him that I might be at my friend's fucking birthday party!"

"Did he react in any way?"

"Of course," the girl snorted, "baby, it's not what you think, we were just talking, I didn't have my hand in her panties at all! Fuck, of course not!"

"Hey, calm down," Oscar said, knowing his friend's emotions well. "How long until your Uber arrives?"

Y/N calmed down for a moment and glanced at her phone, swiping through her notifications.

"3 minutes."

"Alright, the most important thing is for you to get out of there and be home soon. Don't hang up until you're inside, okay?"

"Why me, Oscar? What's wrong with me?" she asked, looking back at her phone. Despite the thousands of kilometers between them, as Oscar looked at the screen of his phone and saw his friend's sad eyes, he felt as if she were standing right in front of him. The downside was that he couldn't hug her and provide the physical support she needed right now.

"It's not your fault, Y/N. It's not your fault at all."

Despite his words of support, Oscar knew that his reassurances were just empty words. He talked to his friend until she got home and let him know she was safe. He offered to continue talking until he noticed her condition had slightly improved, but it was clear she was exhausted.

"I think it's best if I go to bed," she said softly. He heard the sound of keys turning in the lock and the rustle of things being put away. "Although I doubt I'll be able to sleep."

"You should rest," Piastri agreed, nodding. "Text me as soon as you wake up, okay?"

"Sure, but then you'll be sleeping, it's 9 hours' difference," she replied, returning her gaze to the screen of her phone. "Besides, you have more important things to deal with tomorrow."

"Nothing is more important than you," he said, but she just scoffed and shook her head. "Nothing, you hear me? I'll keep the sound on while I sleep, call if anything happens in the meantime. Okay?"

Y/N sighed and nodded.

"Thank you, Osc. It's good to have you here."

Piastri smiled warmly at her.

"Of course I am."

When the call ended, Oscar sighed deeply and rubbed his face with his hand. When he returned to the court, the match was already underway. So, he sat on the bench and clenched his phone in his hand, trying to gather his thoughts somehow. His heart ached at the thought of his friend and what she had gone through. He had known Y/N since their school days when they shared a desk. A friendship had easily developed between them, and they had become practically inseparable. Despite Oscar's busy lifestyle and constant travels, they had managed to maintain constant contact, meeting as often as possible. In such situations, however, their friendship, separated by kilometers, could not cope.

"It's everything alright?" Daniel interrupted Oscar's thoughts, approaching him after the set ended.

"Long story," Piastri sighed.

"I'll gladly listen, considering I'm out and Blake is subbing for me in this set," he replied, sitting next to him and wiping his face with a towel.

For some reason, Oscar began to tell him about what he had just learned over the phone. He and Daniel weren't exceptionally close, sure, they were buddies on the paddock, sometimes playing padel together, but Oscar had never thought of confiding in him about anything. But perhaps this situation overwhelmed him a bit, and he needed advice on how he could help his friend.

"How long have you known her?" Ricciardo asked, when a moment of silence fell between them.

"Over six years, we met back in school."

"For your age, that's almost a quarter of your life," he joked, but after a moment, he looked at him with a slightly more serious expression. "Do you like her?"

"She's my friend, of course, I do."

Ricciardo snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, I figured, but I mean, do you like her?"

Oscar blinked several times, and it wasn't until Ricciardo emphasized the penultimate word he said that Oscar understood what he meant.

"We're friends, I never, uh—," he stumbled a bit, not knowing how to respond.

"So I guess that means yes," Daniel grinned widely, seeing his reaction. "You should invite her here. It would be good for her to occupy her mind with something else now. And she'll appreciate being able to talk to you face to face, not just over the phone."

"I don't know if she'd want to fly all this way just to see me," he replied, causing Daniel to look at him indulgently. "She's never made me feel like I'm anything more than a friend to her."

"Maybe this is the moment to show her that she's had the right guy in front of her all this time," he said, getting up as the set ended. "Cause Aussies always do it better, right?"

Oscar pondered Daniel's suggestion for a long time, but when he went to bed, he decided to offer his friend a visit to Melbourne. Before he went to sleep, he sent her a message with an invitation, honestly not knowing what reaction to expect from her. Of course, he assured her that he would cover all the costs of her transportation, but he still wasn't sure if she would agree to travel such a distance just to see him.

When he woke up in the morning and picked up his phone, he had to rub his eyes in amazement several times. She agreed immediately. She even asked if she could fly to him on the fastest plane, to which he naturally agreed. As a result, she was already at the airport the next evening. Unfortunately, Oscar couldn't pick her up personally, but someone was willing to offer their help on-site.

"Hi, you must be Y/N," Daniel's wide smile and his Australian accent were the first things to greet the girl on the new continent. "I'm Daniel, and it's a pleasure to meet you."

She nodded, returning his smile and shaking his outstretched hand.

"It's very nice to meet you too, and I'm sorry Oscar roped you into this," she replied as he silently took her suitcase. "I could have taken a taxi."

"Absolutely no need to apologize, I'm just glad I could personally welcome you to our beautiful country," he said with a smile. It was past midnight, and Y/N wondered where her newfound companion got so much energy from. "First time in Australia, am I right?"

"Yes, I've never been here before. Actually, it's only the second time in my life I've flown on a plane."

"Really?" Daniel looked at her in shock, and she just shyly nodded. "And Oscar managed to convince you to take such a trip?"

"Actually, I was very excited about the invitation," she admitted, but at one point, she bit her tongue. However, when she glanced at Daniel again, she got the impression that he wouldn't be too concerned about some stranger girl occupying him with trivialities. "A lot has been going on with me lately, and I'm glad to have a reset here."

"I'll gladly join as your local guide and mood lifter," he offered, opening the car door for her. "Of course, if you're up for it and if Oscar is willing to share his best friend."

The girl chuckled, genuinely for the first time in a few days. She eagerly nodded at his proposal.

"I'd love to. And I don't think Oscar will mind."

The journey passed in lightning speed with a conversation that looked like they had known each other for ages, not just a few dozen minutes. When Daniel parked in the driveway, Oscar was already standing in front of the house, waiting for his friends.

"Everything you've learned from me, you haven't actually learned from me," Daniel said, throwing a quick glance at Oscar, which brought a smile back to the girl's face and her hasty nod. Both got out of the car, and Daniel, without taking no for an answer, took her bags. The girl smiled even wider at the sight of her friend, who started walking towards her. She hugged him tightly without a word, and he closed her in a tight embrace.

Daniel smiled at the sight and just raised his thumb. Oscar returned the gesture.

The trio entered the house, and Daniel left the girl's things in the living room doorway before stretching.

"I'll be off," he announced, looking around at them. "It was very nice to meet you, and I hope we'll see each other again soon."

"You can stay if you want," Oscar offered. "We probably won't go to bed soon anyway, and I owe you a beer for today."

"I definitely won't be able to sleep anytime soon, despite the hour," the girl added, checking the time on her phone before shifting her gaze to Daniel and Oscar. "But I have the least to say because it's not me facing the home Grand Prix in a few days."

"Well, why not, gladly," Ricciardo replied, agreeing to the suggestion with a smile.

Shortly after, the three of them were sitting on the terrace. The evening was pleasant, so they decided not to disturb Oscar's family and spend time outside. The conversation was already flowing smoothly, and with each subsequent beer, any inhibitions and barriers disappeared more and more. At some point, it looked like a meeting of three close friends after years.

"He acted like a complete dick," Daniel summed up Y/N's story, taking a sip from the can he held. "Look at it from a different angle, you could have skipped this party and not confronted him. He would probably cheat on you behind your back if he wasn't already."

Oscar looked at him meaningfully, not wanting him to further distress her. However, she seemed to come to terms with the whole situation. She certainly looked better than she did a few days ago when she tearfully talked to Oscar on the phone.

"Possible," the girl sighed, holding her own can. Her head was a bit fuzzy, but she liked this state better than feeling sadness. "Oh God, how could I be so stupid."

"It happens to the best of us," Daniel smiled reassuringly at her.

"The worst thing is, you told me many times that he's not the right guy for me, that he's not a good person at all," she continued, now looking at Oscar, who was sitting next to her. Daniel, sitting in the chair opposite, looked at him meaningfully, but he had his gaze fixed on the girl. "And I still thought I knew better. I'll never question your instincts again, Osc. Never."

She said, then hugged him tightly. Oscar returned the hug, rubbing her back. "It doesn't matter now. It happened, and that's it."

"You said he's not the right guy for you," Daniel began, and Oscar looked at him at the moment when he released his friend from the hug. He shook his head slightly, knowing where he was going with this. But this train couldn't be stopped. "Is there any guy you think would be right for you?"

The girl thought for a moment, turning the can in her hands. However, alcohol placed a certain thought in her head, which made her smile. She just nodded in response, raising her gaze to the man sitting opposite her.

"Oh, you're flattering me," Daniel laughed, taking another sip of beer.

"For the past few minutes, I've been noticing that I kind of like Aussies," she added, glancing at Oscar. He was so shocked when she subtly announced that she liked Daniel in an unexpected way that he didn't even notice when her gaze lingered on his lips. However, Daniel noticed it perfectly.

"And you, Oscar?" Ricciardo asked, stretching his legs out in front of him, a moment after he took another sip of his beer. "Do you have anyone in mind?"

Piastri almost choked on his beer when he finished it. His cheeks were instantly flushed, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol he had just consumed. Y/N raised her gaze to her friend's face, curious herself about his answer to the question, as Oscar had never shared his romantic affairs with her, even when she repeatedly asked about them.

When he, embarrassed, couldn't utter a word, Y/N's gaze returned to Daniel, and she decided to answer for her friend. "Oscar probably hasn't met the right person yet," she said, taking a sip of beer. "He's never told me that he likes any girl, even when I asked hundreds of times. Recently, I even started asking if it's not a girl, then maybe a boy? After all, there's nothing wrong with a relationship with two boys or two girls. And Lando," she looked at her friend again, "he's quite charming. And it seems to me that you two have a good relationship."

"Landoscar? Oh definitely, I've been thinking about it many times myself," Daniel interjected, pointing his finger and agreeing with her words.

Oscar, seeing how they were encouraging each other, knew he had to act. And since words got stuck in his throat, and he didn't know how to defend himself, he silently touched his friend's cheek and turned her head towards him, kissing her. Despite her shock, she returned the kiss. Daniel smiled. He felt like giving himself a high-five.

After a moment, Oscar pulled away from his friend. His heart was pounding like crazy, and her questioning gaze wandering over his face didn't make it any easier for him to gather his thoughts.

"You, Y/N, I like you," he finally said. "I've liked you since you invited me over to work on a biology project in eleventh grade. We were just starting to be friends, and I already felt something more for you. Nothing has changed since then."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" she asked, looking at him, but he lowered his gaze.

"I always felt like I was more of a brother to you than potential boyfriend material,"

"Oscar…," the girl sighed, looking at him indulgently. "Do you know how many broken hearts you would have saved me if you had told me earlier?"

Oscar looked up at her. And just as he felt like an idiot when he decided to make his bold move, now he was wondering if there was a chance she felt the same way about him.

"I thought I was just your friend. And that you didn't want someone who couldn't keep up with your pace of life. After all, why would you need a girlfriend you couldn't have by your side?"

"I would spend all my money to have my girlfriend by my side,"

After these words, silence fell. Oscar and Y/N looked at each other in silence, and Daniel, sitting next to them, pressed the cool edge of the can to his lips and watched the whole scene with bated breath.

"Do you want us to be together?" the girl asked after a moment. She decided to put everything on the line.

"Yes, Y/N, I want us to be together," he said, looking her in the eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier and spared you so many broken hearts. But I assumed that a long-distance relationship would break your heart even more."

Oscar lowered his head. He wasn't lying. The truth was that one of the reasons he didn't confess his feelings to the girl was that he already found it hard with a long-distance friendship, let alone having the possibility to see his girlfriend once a month or less. Oscar had countless layers of love within him. However, he was afraid that if he turned on the tap, he would cause a flood, injuring not only her but also himself.

"Come here," she whispered softly, pulling herself closer to him and hugging him tightly. He closed his eyes and embraced her just as tightly, burying his face in her hair.

"Surely you'll be happy with such a guy," Daniel spoke up after a while, smiling. "If not, you know where to find me. However, Aussies always do it better."

#f1 imagines #f1 #f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #f1 imagine #op81 #dr3 #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader

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fandoms-x-reader · 28 days ago

Text

The Avatar of Greed

Headcannons

Requested By: @rainedroplets

Summary: The brothers' reactions to finding out MC is in love with Mammon and that the two of them had been dating for a while when they were planning on confessing.

Bonus Mammon part at the end! <3

Lucifer’s pride was definitely hurt when he found out that you and Mammon had been dating.

He had thought that the two of you had a childish crush on one other. But, he didn’t see it lasting.

After all, Mammon was the worst when it came to money and he was also terribly impulsive with his decisions.

There was no way the two of you would have a stable future together.

Whereas Lucifer could give you everything you could ever want. Like financial stability and proper respect from the denizens of the Devildom among other things.

He wanted to confess his feelings to you over a lavish evening where he could really take the time to spoil you and show you what being in a relationship with him would look like.

It was only after he planned it all out that he found out that not only were you in love with Mammon, but the two of you had been dating for a while.

Lucifer didn’t believe the news when he first heard it.

Mammon’s childish but kindhearted nature always held a special spot in Lucifer’s heart, but he never thought he would lose you to his younger brother.

He takes some time to regain his composure, but once he does, Lucifer acts unfazed by the whole ordeal.

He’ll continue to act as though nothing has changed and he’ll wear a smile all the same, hiding the true emotions that linger under the surface.

He’ll be dying on the inside but laughing on the outside - all to save face.

Levi is more of the suffer-in-silence type of person.

Finding out that you and Mammon were in love with each other was a huge blow to him.

You had opened Levi up in ways that he never knew were possible.

You not only got him to want to be around others again, but you made him believe in himself.

And that was something that he not only loved you for but admired you for.

It took him a long time to admit his feelings for you to himself, and an even longer time to work up the courage to tell you.

And when he could no longer hold the words in anymore, he found out about you and Mammon.

It definitely broke his heart, but Levi will try to play it off despite the fact that he’s a blushing and stuttering mess.

He’ll immediately return to his shut-in and self-deprecating tendencies.

He won’t talk to either of you for a long time, and whenever he does see one of you, you could see him doing everything in his power to hold back his sin.

Levi radiates anger almost as strong as Satan, though he doesn’t know if he’s mad at you for choosing Mammon, mad at Mammon for stealing you, or mad at himself for not making a move sooner.

There’s only one piece of advice to give when Satan finds out that you and Mammon are dating: Get out of the way.

Satan will definitely go into a rage frenzy at the news, for many different reasons.

First, he’s doubting his own skills because he should have been able to observe the fact that the two of you were dating.

Second, you chose…Mammon?! Of all the demons?! The scummy, money-grabbing one?

Third, he’s heartbroken and a bit embarrassed that he confessed his feelings to you and anger was the only way he knew how to cope.

Satan was very meticulous in planning the perfect way to tell you how he felt about you. He wanted you to feel as special as you always made him feel.

In his state of ire, he harshly told you what he thought about your relationship with Mammon before storming off.

He’ll only calm down after half of the House of Lamentation is destroyed; and, when the anger finally began to wane, he deeply regretted the way talked to and treated you.

He’ll give you a sincere apology but he’ll try to avoid the two of you, afraid of sparking his rage again.

He tends to hold himself in high regard, like Lucifer, so he’ll do his best to act normal around the two of you, but if he sees any kind of PDA, be prepared for another meltdown.

Asmo is by far the most heartbroken and the most dramatic about the news.

You were the most beautiful thing Asmo had ever seen, and as such, it only made sense for you to be with the most beautiful thing anybody else had ever seen.

Asmo had so many fantasies about the two of you being a power couple.

There were so many things he wanted to do with you and so many ways he wanted to express his love for you.

The first step was confessing the way he felt about you; but, he didn’t expect it to both start and end there.

Hearing that you and Mammon were in love hurt Asmo, but hearing that the two of you had been dating for a while shattered him as his mind filled with questions.

How many nights have the two of you spent together? How many times have you hugged? Kissed? More??

Imaging Mammon’s hands on you the way he wanted his own hands on you sent a shudder through his spine.

Asmo cried at the news and made sure everyone else knew about his woe.

Once the initial phase passed, Asmo tried to act as though he had moved on quickly.

He pretended as though he could care less about your relationship as he surrounded himself with people who were too willing to love him.

Asmo’s focus shifts to only having fun, afraid of opening himself up to the possibility of really loving only one person again.

Beel’s expression when he finds out about the two of you pulls at your heartstrings more than you would have ever guessed.

Beel had fallen for you hard and fast.

Everything about you drew him in.

Whenever you would enter a room, he would always light up with the biggest smile.

Whenever you would ask him to do something with you, he would get so excited.

And when you would accidentally brush against him, Beel would feel butterflies in his stomach.

This was the first time Beel had ever felt this way about anyone and because of that, he was so sure that you felt the same way about him.

He admitted his feelings to you in the privacy of his bedroom, something he was so grateful for when he found out the truth about your feelings.

He looked like a puppy that had just been kicked and did his best to hide his pain and give you a supportive smile.

At the end of the day, Beel has the biggest heart and he wanted both you and his older brother to be happy.

He just wished your happiness wasn’t each other. He wished your happiness was him the way his happiness was you.

He doesn’t make a big deal out of it or treat either of you poorly, but you can definitely tell your relationship with him has changed.

The news of you and Mammon rocked Belphie’s entire world.

He guessed he shouldn’t be surprised that you would choose someone other than him.

After all, given your past, how could you ever trust him?

Belphie tried to make up for the things he did.

He tried to show you how much you changed him and how much he cared for you.

But, it clearly wasn’t enough.

Belphie told you that he loved you when the two of you were up in the attic.

He said it so softly and quietly that you didn’t hear it the first time.

He was even more embarrassed the second time he admitted it and you could see the adoration in his eyes for you.

But, no matter how painful it was, you had to tell Belphie the truth.

Belphie got so upset when you told him - experiencing a whirlwind of emotions.

He left the attic immediately, not even sparing you a second glance before leaving.

He needed space from you and time to process what he was feeling.

Cuddle sessions did not happen again after that day and Belphie made snide comments about Mammon here and there under his breath whenever he saw the two of you together.

Part of it was because he was jealous, but most of it was because he had never felt so heartbroken before.

You have to walk a very fine line when you break the news to him. One wrong word and it’ll most likely bring back his beliefs that he should hate humans as an attempt to hide from the pain he was feeling.

Mammon was head over heels in love with you.

Whenever the two of you weren’t together, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He missed you so much and wanted to spend all of his time with you.

And when the two of you were together, he couldn’t keep his hands and lips off of you.

He could hold you in his arms forever, never wanting to let you go.

And it was his goal to leave small kisses on every inch of your skin to make sure you were completely loved.

It was hard keeping your relationship a secret from everyone.

He wanted to show the world that you loved him.

He wanted to brag about how you chose him and tell everyone how in love the two of you were.

He wanted to post pictures of the two of you together and write sappy captions that would make everyone else sick.

But he didn’t care because he was yours and you were his.

So, when everyone else found out about your relationship, he was relieved.

It was hard for a little while. It seemed like everyone hated the two of you and being in the House of Lamentation was like walking into a lion’s den.

And part of him felt bad when he saw his brothers looking so sad and heartbroken.

But, once everyone calmed down, Mammon was so happy that everyone knew.

He could finally act like your boyfriend around others without walking on eggshells.

And others could see that someone like you actually saw something in him. That you didn’t think that he was a waste of space like everyone else.

Going public with your relationship made it real and it was the best thing that ever happened to him.

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