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fangirl-dot-com · 11 months ago

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Incorrect Quotes

all of these were from Pinterest - cause I'm not this funny (I also couldn't wait for the next chapter to come out so here :D)

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated <3

TAG LIST IS OPEN! - 26 spots still open! (please send me a direct message to be added!)

Y/n: I’m cool Oscar Y/n: I’m THEE coolest Y/n: In fact, I was once arrested for being too cool *puts on sunglasses* Oscar: The charges were dropped because there was no supporting evidence. Also, your glasses are upside down.

Y/n: I have a very specific type Max: Oh yeah? Like what? Y/n: Y’know…polite, handsome, athletic…that sort of thing Arthur (on his fourth energy drink of the day) tripping over camera wires and holding his mic upside down: you little shit eating, damned pathetic piece of shit – now you listen here Y/n: *heart eyes* that one. I want that one. Max: *flabbergasted*

Lando: bet you’re standing in the corner because you’re scared that you’ll get turned down if you talk to anyone Y/n: please, I could fluster near everyone at this party if I chose to Oscar: oh yeah? Prove it. Go for someone borderline impossible and I’ll believe you Y/n, approaching Arthur: hey dumbass, hoodie looks kind of cute on you, wanna get out of here? Arthur: WH- I MEAN- UHHHH YEAH SURE Y/n: perfect Oscar and Lando:

Y/n: I brought a red bull Max: I don’t want a red bull Y/n: I didn’t bring this for you. This is my red bull. Max: then why are you telling me? Y/n: It’s a conversation starter. Max: That’s a lousy conversation starter Y/n: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate *sips red bull*

Y/n: *gently taps table* Logan: *taps back* Alex: what are they doing? George: morse code Y/n: *aggressively taps table* Logan: *slams hands down* YOU TAKE THAT BACK-

Lewis: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated Y/n: Killed without hesitation Lewis: nO!

Y/n: Is stabbing someone immoral? Mitch: Not if they consent to it. Max: Depends on who you’re stabbing. Christian: YES?!

Cop: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle. Y/n: Shit Logan: Wait, three? Cop: yeah? Lando: OH MY GOSH OSCAR FELL OFF!!

Max: Time for plan G. Liam: Don’t you mean plan B? Daniel: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties. Y/n: What about plan D? Daniel: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago. Max: What about plan E? Liam: I’m hoping not to use it. I die in plan E Yuki: I like plan E.

Christian: Did none of you think this was a bad idea? *Y/n, Max, Charles, and Arthur covered in navy and red paint* Y/n: Oh no, we all did. We just decided to do it anyway.

George: (in sunglasses and newest Tommy Hilfiger jumpsuit) *in the most posh accent* I’m too good for revenge Logan: (covered in bug spray, cowboy hat and overalls on, pumped full of Bang energy drink and high on freedom) *cocks shotgun* Well, I’m not. Give me the name.

Arthur: So what’s your type? Y/n: Kinda long blond hair, green eyes, dumb, dimples, funny, really thin waist Arthur: Huh, that kind of sounds like me! Too bad its not me! Y/n: did I mention dumb? Arthur: yeah, why? Y/n: just making sure

*Over Text*

Y/n: Hey pretty boy, what’re you up to? :) Arthur: Eating cereal in bed Y/n: And what would you be doing if I was in bed with you? Arthur:…I would still be eating my cereal?

Waitress: And what would you like to eat? Y/n: I wish to devour the unborn Fernando: Eggs, she would like eggs

Y/n: Do you think that when sheep go to sleep they count themselves? Lando: Or do they count humans? Y/n: Ooo, that’s a good question Oscar: GO TO SLEEP

Y/n to Max: because I am a mature adult *turns to see Mitch, Christian, and Vito shake their heads* *turns back to Max* Y/n: I am an adult

*Dinner with Max, Y/n, Charles, and Arthur*

Y/n: The food is too cute, I can’t eat it! Max: Charles: Arthur: You’re cute, but I’d still eat y- Max: ONE DINNER Charles: *sighs* here we go again Max: ONE NORMAL DINNER IS ALL I ASK Y/n: Charles, this pasta is also crunchy, I truly can’t eat this

Ollie: Good night everyone Arthur: Good night Lando: Good night Oscar: Good night Y/n: good night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite. Tonight, imma fight until we see the sunlight. Tik tok on the clock, but the party don’t stop Oscar: I’M DONE

George (t-posing in the doorway): Greetings, parental figures and sister figure *Y/n, Lewis, and Toto walking past* Toto (not looking up from his coffee): Good morning, problem child

Christian: You see, Fernando, Y/n is at the age where she only has one thing on her mind Fernando (noticeably excited): Oh! Oh! Oh! Boys? Max (looking over at the dead tired rookie with revenge in her eyes as she looks at Esteban): No. Murder.

Y/n: Hey Liam, want some of this food? Liam: Sure, thanks! Yuki (storming in with the anger of the gods): WHO TF ATE MY LEFTOVERS THAT CLEARLY HAD MY NAME ON IT Y/n: WE did Liam: You surprisingly smart little mf

Y/n: Never have I ever…Been grounded by my parents! Arthur (exasperated): Every time. She makes disownment jokes every time and she always wins Max: Good one Kid. I always go for the ‘never had a dad who supported me.’ Charles: *stands up and walks away*

Y/n: I’ve only said I love you to four people. Christian, Vito, Arthur, and Max when I thought he died after he wouldn’t respond after a DNF. I only regret one of those Lando: Which one? Y/n: Max. He was just pressing the wrong button and walked out a few minutes later. He made me look like an idiot. Max: I let you win next race Y/n: still

(Y/n, Logan, Lando, and George trying to sneak into RB for more energy drinks after being banned from drinking more)

Logan: So what do you think Y/n will do as a distraction? Lando: She’ll probably, like, make a noise George: Or throw a rock. That’s what I would do *The door flings open and smoke follows. Screams of mechanics fill the air as they try to extinguish a small fire* Logan:…Or she could do that.

Y/n: When I die, donate my entire body to science Y/n: Except my middle finger, give that to Esteban

(max and y/n in a horror movie)

Max: QUICK YOU’RE LOSING A LOT OF BLOOD. WHAT’S YOUR TYPE? Y/n (bleeding out): tall, male, brown hair, dimples, caring, supportive, Monegasque Max: BLOOD TYPE DUMBASS Y/n: oh Y/n: (looks down at wound) Y/n: red

Lando: I wish we could block people in real life. Oscar: Restraining order Y/n: Murder

Christian: Y/n, we need to talk about your professionalism for media days Y/n (and a lot of media personelle she rounded up, all standing on chairs): those are some mighty brave words for someone standing in lava

Y/n (to Max while hiding behind some tires – regretting everything): and then I called him dad Christian (to Geri – trying not to cry while cameras are everywhere): and then she called me dad

Max: Christian, look what Y/n got me for father’s day *holds up generic #1 dad mug* Christian (glaring silently while sipping from his own #1 dad mug) Max: that lying rookie Vito (holding a worn down #1 dad mug): you guys are late to the party suckers

Criminals: We have your daughter and son Toto: I don’t have a daughter and Jack is right here Criminals: then who just asked for warm milk and made us cut the crusts off their sandwiches? Christian: dear God, you have Y/n and George

Mitch: So Christian, you and Geri want to be a parents again someday? Christian: Someday? We’re parents right now. Mitch: Y/n is your employee Geri: She is our BLOOD

Christian: Max is late again Kelly: I woke him up at 8 and pretended it was 11 Y/n: I wrote a fake schedule saying we were starting at 9 instead of 12 Lando: I changed his clock from AM to PM Christian: I think you may have overdone it Max (bursting into the garage): WHAT YEAR IS IT?

Y/n: If I blended Red Bull, five hour energy, monster, coffee, and hot Cheetos into an energy smoothie...would it kill me? Logan: *shrugs* only if you die Y/n (getting out the blender): you're so smart Logan Max (running into the room): y/N STOP!

Lance: I got Netflix like you asked! Y/n: OH that's amazing! I've been mooching off Max's and Arthur's accounts for a while. This will be nice! Lance: Wait, what do you mean accounts? Y/n: Their Netflix accounts? Lance: Y/n: Like their profiles? I wanted one of my own, they're like $12 Lance: Lance:....Oh....You meant the account on the service... Y/n: Yeah, what did you think I meant? Wait...What did you buy? Lance: Lance:....Netflix...

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12

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killerlookz · 5 months ago

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Heartbeat | Joost Klein

description: Joost Klein x f! reader- In the months following reader and Joost's breakup, neither of you seem to be able to get rid of each other, not even when you've supposedly "moved on" to other people. (heavily inspired by the narrative in Heartbeat by Childish Gambino)

content: 18+ NSFW, cheating, toxic relationships, arguing, angst, some comfort?cigarettes, alcohol, questionable morals, just some mess mess messy stuff, semi-public "suggestive" behavior, fingering, unprotected PiV. This work contains RPF, and has been tagged as such do not click forward if that upsets you and do not share my work to other sites.

word count: 7634

An unlit cigarette hangs from your sticky, freshly glossed lips, your hands racing to tie the slippery satin ties of your dressing robe. A knock at the door draws you from where you stand in front of your bathroom to the front door. You flip over the locks before carefully turning the doorknob to open it.

A tiny smile forms on your lips as the door opens, revealing your boyfriend, staring down at you. Michael, a man nearly a decade your senior, eight and a half years older than you to be exact, a handsome business-type man who had moved to the Netherlands for work from the States, Boston specifically, though, he didn't have the accent. The pair of you had been casually dating for nearly four months now, though, you could sense that at any moment he'd ask to take things in a more serious direction.

You quickly remove the cigarette from your lips, balancing it between two fingers as you speak,

"Hi!" Your voice expressing greater enthusiasm than you were actually feeling, "You're early." You grit your teeth through the grin that spreads across your face, "I thought you weren't supposed to be coming for another hour."

"Good to see you too," He smiles back, but you can sense a hint of patronization in his words, "I figured, it was already getting kind of late, and I didn't see a problem with heading out a little early. I texted you anyways, but you never responded."

You nod, remembering that you had purposefully left your phone in the kitchen to rid yourself of any distractions while you were getting ready. While you suppose it was nice of him to let you know he'd becoming early, it would have been nicer if he asked first instead of just doing.

"Getting late," You force a fake chuckle, one that turns out more like a scoff, "The sun has barely set, who wants to go to the bar when it's still light outside?"

"Not everyone enjoys staying out until the crack of dawn." He raises his eyebrows, his voice serious in a way that makes you uneasy.

"It's Saturday!" You beam, "Come on, let loose a little." Michael wasn't exactly the party type- at least not now, it had taken a whole lot of convincing to even get him to go out with you and your friends tonight. "We're still going to have to wait anyways," you shrug, opening the door wider to allow him inside, "Julia won't be here for at least an hour, but you know her and being on time." You giggle awkwardly, unsure of what the two of you would do to fill the time while you finished getting ready.

"Right," He shakes his head before his brows furrow, "What's all over your face?"

Your facial expression contorts, confused, "Uh- makeup?"

"Oh pumpkin," He sighs, his voice like saccharin, exceptionally sweet and unimaginably fake. The pet name makes your stomach curdle, and you attempt to press a smile to your lips to hide the way you cringe, "I thought we talked about how I prefer to see you naturally."

You giggle, stunned at the fact he was bringing up this argument again, one you had had far too many times for how short of a while you had been seeing each other, "And I thought we talked about how much I hate it when you call me pumpkin."

"I just don't think you look any better with all that shit on your face, is it wrong of me to think that my girlfriend is beautiful?" There's an argumentative tone in the way he speaks, but you can't even focus on the potential fight that is brewing, not when the word girlfriend is ringing in your ears.

"No," You sigh, not wanting to argue not now, all the energy being knocked out of you with that simple word, "Do you want something to drink while I finish getting ready?"

"Yeah," He lets out a breath, slightly annoyed, "Yeah- sure what do you have?" He lets his tone return back to normal.

"Depends," You step backward, away from the man, towards the small kitchen of your apartment "Do you want something alcoholic or..." You trail off, stepping all the way into the kitchen.

Michael's eyes linger on you as he scratches at the back of his neck, "That's fine." He shakes his head, "Just get me a beer or something."

You nod, opening up the fridge, scowering around, unsure if you even had a beer in there. After pushing some things around, you'd found a singular bottle, you push your arm further into the cold to grab it.

You retreat back to the warmth of the rest of your kitchen, beer bottle in hand, as you kick it closed, both hands now preoccupied as the unlit cigarette still rests between your fingers. Wordlessly, you place the bottle on the kitchen counter in front of where Michael is now sitting before stepping back to search for a bottle opener.

From the corner of your eye you can see your phone light up, resting right where you had left it on the counter before you had begun to get ready. Thinking perhaps Julia was letting you know she was on her way or even worse that she was here now, you quickly shuffle over to it

Upon looking down at the screen you quickly realize it is not Julia who had texted you or any of your other friends who you had intended on seeing tonight.

Joost: It's been a while, what are you doing tonight? Come over?

The simple messages nearly make you choke on your breath as your eyes quickly flick up toward Michael. Joost was just about Michael's complete opposite- he was something exciting, the type of person where you could never guess their next move, no routine, no planning, no nothing- just go go go. Perhaps that discrepancy could be attributed to the fact that, unlike Michael, Joost had only been older than you by a year, his 24th birthday approaching in the fall. Still, even at Joost's age, you couldn't imagine Michael being much fun.

Unfortunately for you, you had let yourself indulge in the excitement that Joost brought to your life in entirely self-destructive ways. Joost had been one of the first people you had met when you moved to the Netherlands, and things moved quick between the two of you, from the moment you met it had felt like you had known him your whole life. Within a few months of living in a brand new country, you had already found yourself with a boyfriend, having rushed way too quickly into a relationship with Joost, and you quickly learned that no matter how much it had felt like you two had known each other your whole lives, the truth was you didn't really know him.

It was a true whirlwind romance, taking your life by storm, every moment consumed by each other. You both had fallen hard and fast. But for as hard as you had fallen, you crashed much harder. Joost was a perfect boyfriend in every area except for the ones that really mattered. It was obvious how completely in love with you he was, he was soft, and romantic, and fucked you in ways that made you feel things you didn't even know were possible.

But for all of his good, for all of his sweet gestures and affection, he couldn't seem to crack the communication thing. At first, you didn't mind when he skirted around the little issues that arose between the two of you, you knew he had things rough growing up and so you gave him grace, figuring opening up to people and dealing with certain emotions was probably difficult for him. But soon enough the "little issues" were not so little, turning into large, glaring problems in your relationship that no matter how hard you had pleaded for him to, Joost would refuse to discuss. Eventually, it had gotten too much, the two of you constantly at each other's throats, and with Joost icing you out whenever things got rough, you had had enough.

Still, you don't get rid of feelings like that so easily, and for the life of you, you could just not stay away from Joost. As hard as you tried to, you had never actually stopped seeing him despite the fact how much things had changed, things weren't quite so sweet and romantic anymore, but to be honest with yourself, if he fucked you good while the two of you were in love, he fucks you 10 times better when you hate each other's guts.

But maybe hate is too strong of a word, oddly enough feeling bad for Joost when you decide you're not going to respond to his text. At some point in the week, you had made the decision that with how imminent a serious relationship with Michael felt, it was probably high time for you to stop hooking up with your ex-boyfriend. It wasn't exactly a decision you were planning on alerting said ex-boyfriend of, no- that made it real, if you were to tell him you never wanted to see him again, it would become real, you were never going to see him again. Ghosting him seemed like the better option, simply leaving things open-ended, it at least allowed for you to change your mind- which you were deadset on not doing.

Michael's voice takes you out of your thoughts, quickly swiping away the message and turning your phone over.

"Hmm?" You hum, looking up, fluttering your eyelashes innocently.

"A bottle opener?" He points to the cap of the drink you had set down in front of him. You throw a smile onto your face, nodding incessantly,

"Right!" You search through a drawer for a bottle opener before pushing it across the counter towards Michael. You continue to ruffle through the crowded junk drawer, looking for a lighter with no such luck. Feeling far too lazy to go rifle through your purse to find one, with the cigarette still in hand you walk over to the stove, turning the burner to its lowest setting, just enough for a small flame to erupt. Carefully, pinching the cigarette by its very end, you quickly stick it in the small flame, allowing it to light.

You shut the burner off, placing the cigarette to your lips, inhaling, allowing your lungs to fill with the warm, prickly smoke.

"Do you really need to do that in here?" Michael asks, his face forming into a scowl, "Or at all."

You turn to the side to exhale, careful not to blow the smoke in Michael's direction no matter how bad you want to.

"Relax," You smile, "The windows are open."

"Are you even allowed to smoke in here?"

"What are you, my landlord?" You furrow your eyebrows, taking another drag, "One cigarette won't get me kicked out."

"Can't say I'm enjoying your little miss attitude act tonight."

You're not in the mood to argue, simply sighing and forcing an apologetic look on your face, though you had felt like there was nothing to apologize for.

"Sorry," You mumble, "Let me just go finish getting ready."

The area that surrounds you is noisy, alive with all that the city's nightlife has to offer, almost overwhelmingly so. You lean against a wall, observing the swarm of people that inhabit the bar.

"You know," Your friend, Julia, pipes up from beside you, "You really shouldn't let him talk to you like that."

You bite at the insides of your cheeks, replaying the conversation shared between you and Michael just before entering the bar.

Stepping out of the car, your skirt had gotten pulled up quite a bit from having been sitting, your underwear almost on display as you climbed out of the backseat.

"Jesus," Michael scolded as he followed you out of the car, "Who are you showing off for?"

"Huh?" You whipped your head around, trying to ascertain if you had actually heard him right.

Michael leans over, his voice rough as he speaks into your ear,

"Pull your fucking skirt down, you look like you should be standing in the windows in De Wallen."

You clench your jaw, eyes flicking to Julia who was walking around the other side of the car, she shakes her head disapprovingly.

"What's so wrong with that? I'm sure the women in De Wallen are lovely ladies."

"I don't care how lovely they might be, I don't want my girlfriend walking around looking like a hooker."

You sigh, you know Julia is right, Michael was out of line, as he usually was. You stare the man down from where he stands by the bar, looking to squeeze in amongst the crowd that surrounds it in to order some drinks. Your face involuntarily twists into a grimace as you watch him pathetically try and fail to get the attention of the bartender. You want to go home.

"I just don't know why you keep him around." She shrugs, "I mean, I know he's got money and all, but I don't think it makes up for the fact that he has got to be the most stuck-up, grumpy man I have ever met in my life- seriously he's thirty, not seventy-five."

"I don't know," You furrow your eyebrows, "I guess he's stable and stuff- or whatever, you know?"

"Michael? Stable? The man that not thirty minutes ago all but called you a prostitute because your skirt got pulled up."

"I mean stable like he has a good job and stuff, he's normal, regimented, life with him has a routine- I think I need that, maybe he'll mellow me out, I don't know."

"Don't be ridiculous, you're far too young to be mellowed out," Julia pouts, "I mean, really, the party is just getting started for you." Julia's eyes suddenly widen, her lips parting as she speaks cautiously, "Speaking of party..."

"What?" Your eyes widen too, confused, you quickly whip your head around to look in the direction she's staring off in, "Shit." You mutter as your eyes meet the door, and there he is, Joost fucking Klein followed by a group of what looked to be about 5 of his friends. You barely manage to inhale, "I need a fucking cigarette."

Without looking back at Julia, you're making your way to the door, praying that neither Joost nor his friends see you on the way out.

The summer air hits you as you step through the exit onto the bustling city street. You wondered how mad everyone would be at you if you decided to leave right now- bail without a word, run home, and spend the night alone.

You grab at the purse that sits over your shoulder, pulling it down your arm so you can rummage through it, looking for your cigarettes and a lighter.

You flip open the cardboard box, removing a single cigarette, putting it between your lips before reaching back into your purse to fetch your lighter.

You flick the jagged metal of the lighter, the grooves digging into your thumb as you light the end of your cigarette. You toss the lighter back into your purse before slinging the bag back over your shoulder.

You're able to get a few drags in before you're interrupted by a voice, one that immediately makes your stomach sink.

"Ignoring me now, are we?" You don't even have to look, you already know- you'd recognize that voice anywhere, it's Joost.

You whip your head to the side, confirming your suspicions, seeing the slender frame of your ex-boyfriend hanging just outside the entrance of the bar.

"Stalking me now, are we?" You respond, hoping the snark in your voice masks everything else you are feeling.

"I'd hardly call showing up to the same bar stalking," He smirks, walking toward you, "But I mean- if you're into that sort of thing we can pretend I was."

You roll your eyes, taking a long drag of your cigarette, hoping for some sort of head rush from the nicotine.

Joost's features come better into focus as he nears closer to you, messy blonde hair spilling over his forehead, falling into his eyes, a piercing blue as he stares into you, a smirk lingering on his soft pink lips.

"Can I get a smoke?" He asks, innocently enough. You want to say no, so desperately you want to tell him to go away, to leave you alone, that you need to start a life without him.

"Oh-yeah, sure." A sheepish smile crosses your face, your words betraying you, unable to force out any sort of rejection towards him.

You let your already lit cigarette rest between your lips, taking your purse off your shoulders again, grabbing the cigarettes and lighter once more. You shove your hand, presenting the objects to Joost for him to take, his fingers carefully grazing the back of your hand as he does, his touch lingering on you for just a little too long as the two of you stare each other down. Shivers run down your spine, and your chest suddenly becomes tight, he was completely gorgeous- damn him.

"You okay?" He raises an eyebrow, a chuckle falling from his lips, he's not really asking sincerely. You can only hum in response, not wanting to say too much. Things were not usually this awkward between the two of you, and you could feel that you were the one causing it.

You watch intently as Joost lights his cigarette before pushing the pack into his pocket, and you make a mental note to yourself to get them back from him before you go back inside.

"So," He starts, exhaling a plume of grey smoke, "My place or yours tonight?"

"I'm going to my place, and you are going to yours." You respond, forcefully, annoyed at his insinuation that you would be sleeping with him tonight.

"Is that so?" He responds challengingly, his eyes lighting up.

"Yes." You nod, having none of his banter, "And-" You cut yourself off, debating if you even want to say what is about to come out of your mouth next. "I think we should stop this. Us, we need to stop."

"I've heard that one before," Joost chuckles.

"I'm being serious." You let your head fall to the side, "I can't keep seeing you."

Joost's face suddenly drops, understanding the weight of your words,

"What changed?" He scoffs, bewildered at your spontaneous proclamation, "Because if I recall correctly, just last week you were begging for me to come over."

"It's not fair to Michael," You shake your head, "I need to move on, we need to move on."

A grimace forms on Joost's face,

"You want to pull the good girlfriend act now?" His eyes widen, "As if cutting things off now will erase the past-what-four months?"

"I don't want to argue with you about this, Joost," You bite your lip, realizing just how unprepared you really were to cut things off with him, "I know I can't erase what happened, but I'd at least like to try to be better." Your lip quivers, and you clench your jaw, eyes fluttering as you fight back tears. You don't want to give him the chance to reply, you know with the right words he'd be able to talk you right back into bed with him, you can't let that happen.

You let your cigarette fall from your fingers, crushing it into the ground with the heel of your shoe.

"I'm sorry," You mutter, refusing to make eye contact with Joost as you brush past him, rushing back inside.

It was a miracle you had stayed out this late with everything that had occurred tonight, but there you were, still standing at the bar as the clock neared midnight, a feigned half-drunk smile pressed to your lips as you stared at Michael.

You tried to ignore the way Joost's eyes burned into you from across the room, but no matter what you did you could feel he was there, ever-present.

"What do you say to another round?" Julia smirks, leaning over the bar.

"Fine by me." You grin, anything to make tonight more bearable.

"Nuh-uh," Michael shakes his head, "You're cut off." He points directly at you, his finger almost in your face.

"What?" You laugh, caught off guard by his sudden controlling-ness

"You, you're cut off, you've had too much."

You furrow your eyebrows, you're not completely coherent, but you're absolutely nowhere near blackout.

"I had four drinks," You continue to giggle awkwardly, "Are you joking?"

His face stays stiff, he's serious.

"I don't think that's really your call to make." A smile lingers on your face as you attempt to keep the conversation light-hearted, but you can feel some sort of anger bubbling inside you.

"It is when I'm the one who's going to have to take care of you."

"It's one more drink, I think I'll be okay."

"Sure, one drink, which turns into two, and then three... you don't know how to control yourself, which is why I'm cutting you off." His voice begins to rise, and your eyes dart around the room anxiously, you hope the noise of the bar can drown out the argument that is brewing.

"I don't know how to control myself?" You scoff, "Is that really what you think of me?"

"You haven't exactly proven me any different, I've seen you, I know how you get on nights out, God forbid I don't want to have to deal with you sloppy and belligerent for the rest of the night." His words become harsher sounding, and more pointed as he continues to speak.

"What do you mean 'how I get'? I barely go out anymore because you don't like it, I would just like to let loose a little for once." You begin to match his tone, unable to hide your growing frustration.

"And you should thank me for that," His eyes narrow, "You don't need to be running around partying every weekend, acting like a complete fucking mess."

You clench your jaw, face forming a scowl, you can't believe the words leaving Michael's mouth right now,

"Don't curse at me." You mutter.

"No, I'll say whatever the fuck I want to, and maybe you should show me some respect for once, and listen."

"Oh!" You respond, a little too loud, drawing a few glances from the people who surround you, "You want to talk about respect? That's rich coming from the man who doesn't seem to respect any of my personal decisions, not the way I do my makeup, or how I dress, or when I want to go out, last time I checked, constantly berating your girlfriend isn't exactly respectful."

"Get a grip, y/n," He rolls his eyes, "Yeah, no shit I don't want my girlfriend parading herself around like some sort of fucking tramp."

It takes everything in you to not escalate things further, to not tell him what you had been doing behind his back, if he thought you were a tramp, oh you could show him tramp.

You inhale deeply, deciding to cut the conversation short before you say something you'll regret,

"I don't need this." You exhale, turn around, and head for the door.

The air is cooler than before when you step outside, now that it is later into the night. Immediately you're pulling your purse down your arm, desperately sifting around for your cigarettes, needing something anything to calm you down. Your mind races as your hand combs through your bag, unable to think straight, your mind foggy from all the arguing and the alcohol.

"Fuck," You mutter, Joost, he had your cigarettes. You run a hand through your hair, pulling at the strands, tonight had been a complete disaster.

"Looking for something." A teasing voice calls, resulting in a groan from you, it was like Joost had a sixth sense for when you thought about him, always showing up as soon as he crossed your mind.

"Can you just give them to me?" Exasperation heavy in your voice, wanting nothing more than to just have a smoke, and go home.

"What happened in there?" He asks, entirely ignoring your question.

"It's nothing," You shake your head, "Can I just have my cigarettes back so I can leave."

"Didn't look like nothing." He continues.

"Well, it was," You snap, your voice getting a little too loud for your own comfort, "I'm fine. Please, Joost just give me th-"

"You don't need to lie," He cuts you off, "You know you can tell me."

"It just," You pause, lifting your head to look Joost in the eyes, "It just doesn't concern you."

"But it concerns you," His voice suddenly much softer, "So I want to know."

A small smile tugs at your lips, despite everything you were feeling, your heart is slightly warmed at Joost's interest in what had happened.

"Stupid argument," You shake your head, looking back down at the ground, "That's all."

"Seems like every time you tell me about Michael it's about an argument you guys have had."

"Well, gloating about how great of a boyfriend I have doesn't exactly make for good conversation when I'm with the person I'm cheating on him with."

"Well, do you? Have a great boyfriend?" He pushes, but the two of you both know the answer. You bite the inside of your cheeks, bringing your gaze back up to Joost, who seems to be standing much closer to you now.

Your breathing starts to tremble under his intense gaze, the smell of his cologne is suddenly strong in your nose, nearly choking you. He's expecting an answer. But you can't give him one, you can't tell Joost that you didn't have a great boyfriend mere hours after telling Joost you didn't want to see him anymore because of said not-great boyfriend.

"Look," He sighs, "I know I wasn't the best, so maybe I can't talk, but Michael is just a straight-up dick."

His bluntness earns a small chuckle from you, he wasn't wrong.

"Well, I haven't exactly been the world's best girlfriend either." You shrug, any problem with Michael seemed incomparable to the fact that at the end of the day, you were the one cheating.

"You were to me." His tone contained a romance that you hadn't heard from him in a long time.

"Joost-" You choke, your eyes widening, unsure of where he was heading with this now. How were you ever going to get over him when he constantly crossed all the wires in your brain.

You feel your body go numb as he slides his hand to your waist, you should stop him, keep your promise, and never see him again- but you can't, and most importantly, you don't want to.

"Look, I'm not insinuating anything, if you don't want to see me anymore, that's okay, you don't owe me anything not after what you put up with, with me, but what I am saying, is you do owe it to yourself, to find someone who treats you better." His words are genuine, heartfelt, and he almost feels like the Joost you once knew, the Joost from when you two had first met.

There's nothing you can say in response, instead, you push yourself up on your toes, letting your lips meet Joost's in a soft kiss. Joost wastes no time in kissing you back, his hand now gripping your waist. Something feels different with this kiss, no looming sense of guilt hovering over you, it feels right like it's what you should be doing.

You part your lips, deepening the kiss, a small groan escaping you as you feel Joost's tongue brush past yours. Your movements become sloppy, lips lazily working against each other, each kiss filled with increasingly more passion.

Stunned, Joost pulls back from the kiss, a smile on his lips, now shiny from your lipgloss, "So," He breathes, "My place or yours?" It was exactly as you had thought, so easily, Joost was able to talk you back into bed with him.

"Mines closer." You shrug, your voice suddenly timid as you reach a thumb to Joost's lips, rubbing the traces of your lipliner off of them.

The car ride home feels like years, as the vehicle crawls down the city streets you figure you have probably gotten the slowest Uber driver in the entirety of Europe.

You sit in the middle seat, your arm brushing against Joost's, the proximity is comforting, but not quite enough, you want nothing more than to be all over him.

You trail a finger to the buckle of Joost's belt, lazily tracing over the letters engraved into the metal, Albino. The sudden remembrance of Joost's proximity to fame, even if only in the Netherlands, draws a smirk on your face as you think about all the horny fangirls who would probably die to be in your position now.

"What are you doing?" Joost asks, his words slow, teasing.

"Nothing," Feigned innocence in your voice as you let your palm rest just below the buckle of his belt. Joost clenches his jaw as you let your hand trail a little lower, pressing into the fabric of his jeans, his already-defined cheekbones poking out even farther with the way his muscles strain.

"You're going to kill me, you know that?" Joost's eyebrows raise, a smile pressed to his lips. He reaches a hand behind your head, first gripping at your hair before relaxing his fingers, soothingly scratching at the back of your head.

A hum of content vibrates through your lips, satisfied at what amount of power you had over him, even if it wasn't much.

You continue to press the heel of your palm against Joost's jeans, feeling the way they tighten as he begins to stiffen beneath you. Joost sucks in a breath, his free hand moving to rest on top of yours, he grips your fingers, pulling you off of him.

"You didn't like that?" You pout.

"Does it look like I didn't like it?" He grits his teeth. Your eyes wander down his figure, focusing on his lap, a now more prominent bulge in his jeans.

The car suddenly comes to a halt, forcing your gaze to the window- you were home, and now you're scrambling out of the car, unable to wait any longer to get your hands on Joost.

Joost pops his head back in the car for just a moment more,

"Dankje, fijne avond!" (Thanks, goodnight) He says quickly to the driver as you pull at his arm from outside the car, impatient. "God, woman," He chuckles, shutting the car door behind him, "I'm here!"

The climb up the three stories to get to your apartment is intermittent with sloppy kisses and lingering touches. As much as you desire to get to the privacy of your apartment, you can't keep yourself off of Joost, your hips pressed into his he has you pushed against a wall surrounding the staircase, his lips trailing down your neck, surely leaving little marks you wouldn't be able to explain away.

You card your hands through his hair, gripping at the messy blonde strands,

"Joost, please," A strained whisper crawls up your throat, your hips sputtering forward, begging for some friction, "My apartment."

Joost drops his hand from where it sits against your waist, grabbing your hand, and pulling you the rest of the way up the steps.

Anxious hands fumble with your keys as you try to push them into the lock of your door, a breath of relief as you hear the satisfying click of the correct key slotting perfectly into the small space.

Before you know it, you're pushed up against the back of the door, Joost's hands pinned on either side of you, caging you in with his body. Your own hands wander Joost's body, pulling at his shirt, gripping tightly to pull him closer as your lips collide. The way you kiss is rough, animalistic like you're completely starved for him.

Joost shoves a thigh between your legs, the rough denim of his jeans now brushing against the crotch of your panties. You can't help yourself, bucking your hips forward to push yourself further against his thigh. A small sigh leaves your lips as your cunt brushes against him, suddenly feeling your arousal, your movements made slippery.

Joost's hands make their way to your hips, his touch lingering as they slide to your thighs, grabbing at the hem of your skirt, and pulling it up. He drops his leg from where it's positioned between your thighs, his large, tattooed hand now cupping your heat. He presses the heel of his palm into your crotch, rubbing harshly through the flimsy fabric of your panties. His movements send jolts of electricity through your body, only making you crave him more as your arousal pools.

His fingertips push at your slit over what little clothes separate the two of you, teasing what you really want.

"Liefje," He smirks, pulling away from the kiss, "So wet for me I can feel it through your panties."

Your face grows hot, slightly ashamed at how quick you had become so aroused. Joost's fingers find themselves brushing at the seams of your underwear, hooking into the fabric ever-so-slightly. Your body grows tense as he teases you, his position making it seem like he's about to pull the delicate lace to the side, but he doesn't, his fingers, unmoving as he kisses at your jaw.

You can't take it, feeling so pent up that you might just explode, you knock Joost's hand from where it sits between your legs, pulling the crotch of your panties to the side yourself before pushing your fingers to your clit. You rub small circles to the delicate nerves, gasps leaving your mouth as pleasure rushes through you. You let your fingers dip lower, collecting your arousal on your fingers as they glide through your folds, towards your aching entrance.

Joost finally clocks what you're doing, his lips leaving your jaw, his hand reaching down to cover yours.

"So impatient," He purrs, his breath hot against your neck, reminding you of your proximity, "Here, let me help you."

With his own hand, Joost guides your fingers up and down your soaked pussy, before completely taking the work over himself, your hand now resting at your side as he continues.

With a single finger, he teases your hole, rubbing around it, threatening to dip his fingers in, you shove your hips forward, silently begging for it. He gets the memo, as much as he loves to feel you squirm below him, he loves pleasuring you so much more.

Before long he's pushing a second finger into you, a groan leaving your lips at the way you stretch around him. His thumb taps at your clit, sending extra pangs of pleasure through your body. You can do nothing but lean your head against the door behind you, lips parted with your jaw slack, in complete awe of how good Joost could make you feel with simply just his fingers. He knew his way around your body even better than you knew yourself, able to draw you to an orgasm much quicker than when you went solo. He knew just where to press, just where to rub to make you whine, and stutter filthy curses.

"What was that about never wanting to see me again?" He coos into your ear, and you pick up an almost wickedness in his voice.

"Fuck you," You sputter, voice strained from the magic his fingers are working against your cunt.

"Yeah," Joost sighs, "I'd bet you'd like to."

He's right, absolutely, completely right, and you're melting below him, turning to mush under his touch.

"Lucky for you, I'd love to fuck you too," He removes his fingers from your cunt, "And I don't think I can wait much longer."

Your pussy is left throbbing, feeling your heavy pulse between your thighs as you clench around nothing, aching from the lack of stimulation. Joost presses two fingers to his lips, shiny from your slick, enveloping them with his mouth, moaning slightly at the taste of you on his tongue.

"So good," He mumbles as he pops his fingers from his mouth, "Now, c'mon." He's grabbing you by your wrist, pulling you to your bedroom.

You nearly stumble onto your bed, leaning face first on the edge of the mattress while your feet still rest on the ground below you, ass up.

Joost stands behind you, his hips pressed into your ass. You whine as his stiff cock brushes against your exposed cunt through the thick denim of his jeans. You can feel the cool metal of his belt buckle press into you as he leans forward, hands trailing up your torso as he kisses your shoulder blades.

You arch your back farther, looking for some friction, desperately trying to grind your cunt against him. Joost's hands linger on your body as he lets you search for some relief, helping you just a little by bucking his hips ever so slightly. He gropes at your tits, hands crawling into your shirt to get a better feel. He pinches the pebbled surface of your hardened nipples, making you squeal, his breath tickles your neck as he chuckles at your reaction.

Soon enough he removes his hands from you, and his hips no longer press into your thighs. You're impatient as you hear the clinging of his belt buckle. your pussy instinctively clenching as the sound meets your ears like you've been trained to know what's next. You hear a small sigh leave Joost's mouth followed by what sounds like him pulling his pants down, the belt once again clinging as it hits the floor. You peek behind you, biting your lip as you marvel at the sight before your eyes, Joost, naked from the waist down, his cock hard, tip throbbing an angry shade of red. He's gripping the bottom of his shirt, exposing the trail of blonde hair that leads to his pubic area. His shirt comes all the way off, leaving him entirely undressed behind you.

"See something you like, hm?" He asks, teasingly, noticing the way you stare at him, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

You can't even respond, not as he walks closer to you, your brain dizzy with the knowledge of what is about to come next. You return your gaze forward as Joost's hands find their way to your hips, fingertips gripping your flesh. You gasp as you feel the tip of his cock brush against your folds. You have to fight the urge to instinctively push back against him.

Joost continues to grind the shaft of his cock against your cunt, collecting your slick around its length. He pulls back a little, letting the head tease your entrance, about to push in before he stops himself,

"Wait." He breathes, "Turn around."

Slowly, you flip over, back pressed into the mattress while your legs still dangle off the sides. Joost nods, content as he steps between your legs.

"Take your shirt off, let me see those pretty tits." You obey, pulling the top over your head, suddenly very exposed as you had decided to forego a bra tonight. Goosebumps litter your skin as Joost slowly lowers onto his knees, he's quick about his movements, not taking time to linger or tease as he pulls both your skirt and your panties down the length of your legs. You raise your back to help him a little, lowering back onto the mattress once you feel the fabric hit your ankles. You kick off the heels you had been wearing, the pooled fabric following, now leaving you entirely exposed under Joost's lustful gaze.

He stands back up, gripping the backs of your thighs as he does so, guiding your legs up. You wrap your legs around his thighs, and Joost moves closer, his arms pinned on either side of you as his body hovers over your own. The new position allows you to move your legs to be wrapped around his hips, digging your ankles into his back to push him closer to you.

He presses a rough kiss to your jaw, an indicator of how hungry he was for you now.

"Ready for me," He mumbles into your skin.

"Mhm," You hum, "Please."

You can feel him smirk as his lips linger on your skin,

"So polite, anything for you, liefje," He coos, removing one hand from the side of you, balancing the entirety of his upper body weight on one forearm now.

He grips the base of his cock with his now free hand, messily guiding the tip through your folds before lining up with your entrance. He waits a moment before finally pushing into you, he's slow, careful. The two of you share a gasp as he slips inside of you, the way you stretch around him is familiar, but it never gets any less mind-numbing no matter how many times you find yourself in this situation.

Your fingers grip into his bicep as he slowly pushes into you at a painfully slow pace. A strangled groan leaves your mouth as he finally bottoms out. You relinquish some of your grip on his arm, fingers loosening as he begins to build up a steady pace, thrusting inside of you.

You let your head tip, and back arch, completely relaxing your body, allowing yourself to be entirely consumed by the pleasure Joost brought you.

Neither of you speak for a while, the loud moans that escape both of you were doing more than enough talking. For a split moment you feel bad for the neighbors, and you hope they aren't awake to hear you through the thin apartment walls. But, your thoughts are swiftly taken away from your acute guilt as you feel Joost slam into you, harder than before. Your eyes shut tight, a pathetic whimper crawling from your throat as the tip of his cock hits deep inside you.

"Joost," You gasp as his thrusts become more pointed, the bed rocking beneath you.

"Feels good, right?" His voice is rich with cockiness, "No one fucks you as good as I do?"

"No," You exhale, "No one," Your vision begins to blur, as pleasure completely overtakes you.

"That's right," He groans, "No one knows your body like I do."

He's right, and you're sure no one will ever know you in the way he does,

"Fuck," You swallow, "We're never going to be able to stop this, are we?" Your heartbeat increases as you come to the realization of how badly the two of you need each other- no matter how much it disturbs the other facets of your life.

"No," His fingertips dig into the naked flesh of your hips, "We were made for each other." The way he speaks is barely romantic, his low growl rather implying that the two of you were doomed to forever be intertwined in this unfortunate circumstance, the far of you far too flawed to be with anyone but each other.

You can feel your body tensing up, a pressure burning in your abdomen, threatening to explode at any moment. You screw your eyes shut, your face twisting up, all of the emotion of the night smacking into you as your orgasm approaches.

"So close," You wince the hot coil in your lower stomach about to crack.

"Want to feel you make a mess on me," Joost begs from behind a clenched jaw, "Come on," He urges.

It takes a few more thrusts for your orgasm to overtake you, but as it does, it's strong. What could just be about considered a scream passing through your throat as your legs start to shake, your body tingling.

"Love you," You slur, your brain too fuzzy to even be cognisant of the words as they leave your mouth, your subconscious speaking for you.

"Yeah?" Joost asks, his thrusts becoming sporadic, losing pace, "Say it again, tell me how much you love me, schatje."

"I love you," You whine, your entire body twitching as you lose all control over your reflexes, your climax now in charge, "Love you, love you so much." Your words become slower, jaw slacking as your orgasm rolls over you, reaching its final stages, your cunt spasming around Joost.

"I know," He sighs, his lips returning to your jaw. He's able to slip in and out of you much faster now, his cock covered in your release, his thrusts forcing strangled cries from you, "I know," He repeats, "Fucking love you too,"

His hips stutter, and a string of curses are grunted into your neck as Joost's own orgasm approaches.

You inhale sharply as you feel him begin to finish inside you, his cock twitching in your poor overstimulated cunt as the warmth of his release fills you. It's messy, the way he continues to thrust with as much force as he can muster as he rides out his high, cum spilling onto your inner thighs which each thrust, lewd wet sounds filling the air.

Soon enough Joost is collapsed on top of you, his breathing heavy as he tries to collect himself. Your legs drop from hs waist, your entire body lazy.

A certain sense of guilt creeps into you as you realize Michael is right, you have no self-control, unable to give up the feeling that Joost gives you for anything else in the world. You'll forever be chasing the high he gives you, because Joost was right too, you were made for each other.

#joost klein x reader #joost klein x f! reader #joost klein smut #rpf #joost klein fanfic #joost klein #heartbeat! au

475 notes · View notes

o-sachi · 1 month ago

Text

Blue Lock Filo! AU Headcanons

𖤓 feat. isagi, bachira, chigiri, kunigami, barou, nagi, reo, sae, rin, karasu, otoya, hiori, shidou, oliver, yukimiya 𖤓 tags: college au, filo au, crack (kinda), sfw, written in Taglish because ???, not proofread lel

note: I'm sorry if your uni isn't here. My knowledge of universities in the country is limited to the big 4 and some others that participate in uaap sobbb

note 2: Send me your own hcs too plspls

note 3: filo moots sana magkaron haha what if

Isagi

He goes to UST and will correct you (nicely) about how to pronounce "Thomasian"

Goes to church with his family every Sunday without failure

He's close with his extended family too, especially the grandparents.

Golden child. Siya yung bata na example ng nanay mo na dapat gayahin mo raw.

A fan of indie Pinoy bands and watches indie Pinoy films.

Cup of Joe fan lol

Too shy to ask anyone out for the Christmas event sa UST (sorry limot ko na ano tawag).

Is in UST, but probably not taking up medicine. Parents were supportive of it though.

Mabilis mag-reply. He uses the 👍 and 😊 unironically

Friends with a lot of questionable/cancelable guys, but he's still genuinely the nice one among them

When he visits a friend's house, he's always chatting up their parents and helping around the house without being asked

Generic sinigang enjoyer :shrug:

Pretty much an average guy. Though he is definitely nicer than most. It shocks you.

(Sorry wala na ko maisip pero basta green flag siya).

Bachira

Goes to UP Diliman for fine arts

A manic pixie dream boy that girls gush about when they see him hanging out at the sunken gardens

Knows all the brainrot and even the Pinoy brainrot

Does the "Ha? Halaman" and says "Sinong nagtanong?"

Loves Jollibee because it's cheap and it tastes good

Spaghetti and Jollihotdog enjoyer

Social anxiety fears him. He'll do mostly everything you ask him for 20 pesos (sometimes for free)

Celebrated his 4th birthday at Jollibee and has a picture with the mascot lol

Bardagulan enjoyer

Has been casted in plays before and is genuinely good at acting

See him running in campus because he's always late to class

Puts too many songs in the karaoke but never finishes the songs because he gets bored halfway through

Runs a FB meme page...

Actually dresses nicely. Hindi mukhang pakboi

Not afraid sumabit sa jeep. Either sa tabi siya ni manong or sabit

Chigiri

Went to some fancy all boys like Brent, then is now in Ateneo

Could be studying business ??

Not conyo. Just straight up English with a really good accent

imessage lang daw mode of communication niya

Always wearing a button up, khaki pants, and loafers na Sperry or sandals from Birkenstock

Was featured in a commercial when he was younger

His mom was very active in the PTA. Their family was often the topic of chismis because yk maraming inggit sa paligid.

Does not listen to OPM or watch Filipino movies because 'corny' daw 'yun

Mabagal mag-reply since he's always busy doing something

Calls people 'baduy' or 'jologs' or 'jejemon' because he can

MATARAY SI ATE KO

Will never catch him on a dating app because, again, it's so baduy daw

Kunigami

I dunno but... UP Baguio vibes siya lol

Will always always always post on his story of him running along the campus

May post palagi ng gym progress at Strava stats niya

People think he's thirst trapping, but really, he's not

Also very close with family and they celebrate all holidays together no matter what

Karinderya food enjoyer (same)

Loves anything na lutong bahay tbh. He's not picky with food.

Mabagal din mag-reply pero that's because he's not chronically online

Does not get internet memes or references. Lolo po siya.

A really good kuya! The type to intimidate his sisters' boyfriends if they ever come to visit their house.

Probably also plays basketball too. They used to live near a gym/ring. He played a lot with the neighborhood kids.

Watches NBA and Manny's boxing matches

Shot puno. Red Horse. San Mig.

Pag nalasing nag-dadrama tapos kakanta ng malungkot na song sa karaoke

Laging naka sando LOL

Barou

UP DILIMAN TOO AND STUDYING ARCHITECTURE

Makes insanely good plates

Laging napapagalitan ni lola kasi nakasimangot palagi

Lola's boy by the way

Gets insane road rage because of the god awful traffic

"Putangina traffic na naman." / "Parang gago 'to mag-drive." / "Sige. Singit pa, hayop ka." (sa naka-motor)

Fan siya ng F1

Malutong magmura lmfaooo

Also a gym bro but doesn't care about sharing it on social media

Barely any social media presence

Tutors his younger siblings

Isn't ashamed of taking food from parties, stuffing it in a tupperware, and heading his merry way home

Argues with people on FB because he can

"Anong sinasabi mo. Bobo ka ba?"

Term of endearment niya ay "Tanga"

Nagi

Parents always get mad at him kasi nga tamad.

Also because he was a picky eater as a child. Would rather starve than eat that one ampalaya dish (was always served at his household which pissed him off)

Wanted to go to the same university as Reo but Ateneo is too serious for him. So he went with sports science in NU

They make sure to meet up still

Always misses his stops because he falls asleep or zones out

He's the guy in class who always has his airpods on no matter what

Hoodie, baggy pants, dunks

Mahilig umutang, pa-unti unti, pero madalas nalilimutan

"Ah. May utang ako? Sorry, nalimutan ko siguro."

COD player na palaging may battle pass no matter what. Nainis siya isang beses kasi sinabihan siya ng PC MASTER RACE. Eh cellphone gamer lang siya

Obviously, he had his ML phase

Trashtalker siguro. "Tulog ka na. Bata," type shi

Teachers always forced him to join the events in the sports fest

Reo

Siyempre, Ateneo 'yan. Management Engineering pa. 'Di niyo kinayaaaa

CONYO 'YAN FOR SURE

He's in a bunch of orgs and stuff because he's a social butterfly like that

May nanay na judgmental sa ibang pamilya lmfao

Was in one of those interviews on campus asking students about their daily baon

"Ah. Isn't 1k a day normal? It's kulang pa nga eh since I live sa condo."

Ayun. Nakatira sa condo pala.

Goes golfing with his dad and posts his swing on IG stories

Crypto bro. Shares his crypto stats(?) sa IG stories

Humble bragger kahit saan. Personal or on social media

Same porma with Chigiri pero mas madalas naka-polo shirt siya

Ralph Lauren and Lacoste boy

Laging VIP seats sa concerts. May napila sa SM tickets para sa kanya

Lowkey a D-list or C-list celebrity

Friends with Filo actors and actresses

Sae

Also Ateneo (Sorry ang daming Ateneo. Alam ko. Pero those are the vibes eh.)

Definitely went for medicine and is planning to study even more sa foreign country

The golden boy of their clan. Always receives the most praise and pasalubong from relatives

He hates hearing the "Ang laki mo na!" greeting

Never engaged in the pagmamano and saying of "po" and "opo"

SURPRISINGLY, he enjoys the dirty ice cream they sell on a cone (it's not actually dirty btw, it's what we call ice cream sold by carts on the street. it's edible dw)

Possibly a frat boy

Gets so many message requests on messenger and insta but he ignores them all

Strava enthusiast din

You'll see him running in all of the best gear

Not conyo. He actually speaks mostly Tagalog but there's that slight 'maarte' accent there

Hates being called 'rich kid' kesyo baduy din daw LMAO

They have a driver, so many yayas, a gardener... ay basta kumpleto staff nila

Ayaw nung staff sa kanya kasi suplado

Drives a BMW

Rin

Went to La Salle and got into LeapMed just to spite his older brother and prove to them that he is better

Relatives always compare them

Even though they're rich, he probably got a lot of hand-me-downs from kuya, which pissed him off SO MUCH

Not a fan of Filipino movies, but he likes the horror movies. He says some of them are really well-crafted and gives a good scare sometimes

Unlike Sae, Rin likes homemade food. I see him liking Menudo lol (I mean, who doesn't?)

Refuses to commute. He's driving or he's being driven. No buts.

Mas gusto siya ng staff sa bahay nila lol

He grew up with a specific yaya. They're actually still close now. He's closer to her than his parents.

The conyo one. Mahilig mag-mura pero exclusively English 'yan.

Takes the longest to reply kaya 'yan walang ka-talking stage lol

100% has beef with the younger members of his extended family. He has that annoying cousin that he tripped once because why not

He hates family reunions, of course

Karasu

UPLB. Fo sho.

Chemical engineering definitely.

Halimaw yarnnn (heart eyes heart eyes)

Bro pulls up to class in a shirt, basketball shorts, and flip flops

Not a fan of the nightlife there, but is a certified manginginom LMAO

Can outdrink his dad and titos. Kahit lambanog pa 'yan

Extra respectful to the ladies in his family. Gets ultra pissed off when someone jokes about getting with his mom or older sister

Malutong din magmura

His personal favorite is "gago" HAHAHA

Medyo dry mag-chat, walang emojis (pero 'yun ang gusto ng mga babae apparently)

Not a fan of Manila (smells weird daw there)

Secretly makes fun of conyo people lol

Street food enjoyer. His favorite is probably isaw or squid balls. Matamis and maasim sauce please !

He can cook, but his mom cooks better, so taga-saing na lang siya ng bigas lol

Mahilig siya sa tapsilog siguro.

Lives off of energy drinks to survive the semester

Crush ko siya. Hala headcanon ba yan HAHAHAHA

Otoya (Oh boy oh boy)

Engineering as well, but at Mapua. Probably electrical engineering or industrial

Gwapo na mabango HAHAHA

VAPES. Onti na lang naka-lanyard na vape niya

Listens to Zild and Hev abi...

Araw-araw may IG story ng car niya, ng music na pinapakinggan niya, or panibagong soft launch

Fan siya ng American Psycho at Blade Runner kasi he is him daw (akala niya siya si Ryan Gosling na may pinagdadaanan...)

Nasa Tinder at Bumble. Bio reads: "Let's see where it takes us."

Na-cancel na sa Twitter before pero wala siyang pakialam (unbothered king?!)

Favorite song ang FE!N

Rap fan 'yan eh

Nako... may Telegram 'yan

Valorant e-boy. Kailangan may duo palagi.

Says he's into cute chinitas probably

Laging may note sa IG or sa messenger lol

"Kumain ka na ba?" texts (hala siya)

Of course, good morning at good night texts din

Frat boy siguro (may frat ba sa Mapua? sorry hindi ko knows)

Drinks a lot, but he can't handle his liquor. Gigising na lang siya the next day may video siya sa boy's GC na kung anu-ano ginagawa.

Hiori

Computer Science probably. Also in UPLB. (Ang probinsyano?? HAHAHAHA)

Studying? Why study when he can be at the computer shop? He lives there, pretty much

Dorms because he wants to get away from his family

Can't be bothered with org/frat culture

Tambay sa forums like freedom walls/reddit/etc

Sumasali siya sa e-sports tournaments

LoL and DOTA player, of course

Also plays a bunch of stuff on Steam as well though. Pero babalik at babalik pa rin sa LoL

Also plays Valorant. Smurfs for fun because he likes crushing the hopes and dreams of people. "Sala ka pa. Haha, tanga," type shi.

Always down for the early morning runs to 7-11 or whatever's open at that hour

Puro pancit canton kinakain. Puro Mountain Dew iniinom.

He and his friends always talk about PC specs...

"Hindi, pre. Mas maayos pa rin 'yung ano..."

Shidou

Also from La Salle maybe? Not the Taft branch though. Hindi kasing yaman nung iba siguro.

Fine arts student! May art account siya sa IG

Napalabas siya sa McDo dati kasi masyadong maingay

Would probably vlog a day of his life at La Salle

Posts all the unhinged shit on their freedom wall and fucks with the people from the Taft branch lol

The reason why their group chat cannot be leaked under any circumstance AT ALL

Always has the weirdest nickname in their messenger group chat

Somehow I get the vibe that he enjoys inihaw lol (same)

Napunta rin minsan sa computer shop. But very rarely because he gets too heated and starts making a ruckus there (mapapalabas na naman)

Expert commuter. Baha has nothing on him. Waterproof siya.

Would probably engage in frat culture, but only for fun

A party animal. 10 seconds niya yung Cuervo ez

Oliver

Umm UP Manila Political Science? Maybe?

Always nominated for council positions or other important roles in university organizations lol

Major kuya vibes kasi

ANONG VAPE VAPE? DIRETSO MARLBORO RED NA

Which is giving out first? His liver or his lungs? Abangan.

Unlike Otoya, he doesn't really date girls at the same time, but more so, he moves faster than what you'd expect (may rebound palagi kumbaga)

Posts on his IG story always with the intention of capturing the attention of someone lol (lagi siya humahakot haha)

"It's not you. It's me."

Bro thinks he's the male lead of a Filipino indie romance film

Cannot shut up about I'm Drunk I Love You

Frequents BGC clubs as well. Aspired to be a DJ once

Lahat ng messaging apps meron 'yan. Replies very fast too.

Search up BGC Boy playlists on Spotify. That's what he does, at least.

Yukimiya

Maybe goes to Normal U. because he wants to be a teacher/professor

The typical softboi you see at a cafe reading a book or typing away on his MacBook

So many girls like him, but he's the type to be in a long-term relationship with a high school sweetheart or something

Most of his stories are of him studying (his notes, his coffee with his notes, his laptop screen)

Ben&Ben listener LMAOOO

Possibly also a lifestyle vlogger or podcaster

Keeps getting offers to model for local brands

Possibly religious (his whole family is)

He looks like he would like adobo. 'Yung may toyo, hindi ung tuyo (ANG RANDOM BAHAHAH)

Munimuni listener (he was sad when the vocalist left)

Wants to win a Carlos Palanca award eventually

Looks like the type to advocate for the local culture and is against colonial mentality

My brain ran out of ideas that's why some are shorter than the others lol

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witchthewriter · 1 year ago

Text

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐊𝐨̈𝐧𝐢𝐠

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: not a poly relationship - I just decided to have them both in one post. Let me know if you want more xx Also I went through the tags for these guys and there is nothing but SMUT. So I wanted some sweet sfw headcanons for the boys

Warnings: swearing, nsfw included (no one under 18 please).

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

INTJ

Ravenclaw

Neutral Good

Scorpio Sun, Capricorn Moon, Virgo Rising

𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲/𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭

・This man is fucking dangerous behind the wheel. And although he is a hot-head occasionally, it isn't when he's driving.

・Simon knows he's shit, so when people honk at him, give him the finger - he just stone-faces it. Let's them berate him because really, he doesn't fucking care.

・However he has lost his licence a few times ... and so you told him he could be your <3 passenger princess <3

・Simon wasn't amused ...

・Very much the protective type, verging on possessive. Not in an abusive way, but he wants everyone to know that you're his. So when anyone flirts with you - or even when they're a little too nice, his jealousy consumes him.

・Scary dog privledges, with and without the mask. This man is intimidating as fuck.

・6'4, wide shoulders and big hands, so it doesn't matter how you look, how tall you are etc - Simon is bigger, taller and stronger.

・Yes he can be a hardass, but when he loves someone, that roughness is somewhat smoothened out. He'd hate to hurt your feelings.

・He only wears his mask to hide his identity; he takes it off when missions are done.

・And when he's home, he rarely wears it.

・Absolutely HATES being jump-scared. And his reflexes take over (you've learnt from the first and last time)

・This goes with random kisses as well, sometimes you just have to make yourself known before touching Simon

・He isn't huge into PDA, but when outside he will gladly hold your hand, bump his shoulder into yours when you make a crappy dad joke.

・The biggest misconception is that he's cold. Well, at work - obviously he is. But at home, with you, he has so much warmth. A lot of life.

・He has great banter. Absolutely has both of you laughing your asses off.

・Calls you "love," "sweetheart," (all in his gruff, chiselled brit accent). And when you're alone, he calls you names like "my love," "hun," "sweet cheeks."

・You're slowly learning about Simon's past, which he shares little by little.

・Too much information and he's scared you might feel overwhelmed and leave him

・There's some deep trauma there, but the army has therapists and everyone gets checked out before they're deemed mentally healthy enough.

・He does want kids, but only after he's done with the military. He would hate to be an absent father in any way. And he wouldn't want you to have that full responsibility.

・A lot of people characterise him as this traumatised man who can barely look after himself. But that is far, faaaaar from the truth. He's very competent. And he eats a LOT. But he also works out (to keep in shape, he actually hates the gym) (also he doesn't expect you to do anything of that stuff. He loves you for you.)

・I also have this headcanon that Ghost/Riley would love Metallica, Slipknot, Black Sabbath etc. It's one of the things that calm him down. However, if he's had an overwhelming day, he needs no noise whatsoever.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Teases Them (You) x About To End Them (Ghost)

The Moon and His Star

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Opposites Attract

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Say Yes To Heaven by Lana Del Rey

Arsonist's Lullabye by Hozier

Enter Sandman by Metallica

��𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, I bloody mean it.

・There's almost like two sides of your s/o. The Ghost side, where the mask stays on, and he's rough, possessive, dominant. And then the Simon side, where he likes soft touches and when you gently stroke his face

・You've both discovered that Simon likes it when you wear his mask, gloves - nothing else - and touch yourself.

・Even with your cum juices on the mask, and gloves, he'll still wear them to work.

・It's the only kinky thing he brings with him while on deployment. You did want to take a naked polaroid for him but he didn't trust the other guys not to somehow see it.

・He likes keeping you as separate from army life as much as possible. Because you feel like home, and it gives him hope.

・Ghost loves taming your bratty side. He's short, demanding and can shut you up with one look.

"Keep on actin' like that, and see what happens."

・Of course you keep acting up, and when you get home, you pay for it tenfold.

・Ghost's hands are as big as a paddle, and when he has you over his knee, ass up in the air. He doesn't hesitate in leaving red marks (all consensual. He wouldn't do anything without having a conversation before hand).

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

ISTP

Hufflepuff

Chaotic Good

Aries Sun, Aquarius Moon, Leo Rising

𝐊𝐨̈𝐧𝐢𝐠

・A 6'10 king, who suffers from social anxiety but has this soft, silly side that he loves showing you and only you (I will take no criticisms on his height. It is LAW. My law.)

・Because of his anxiety, social aspects of life are much harder than work. He's highly skilled in combat, and has a lot of confidence in his abilities to accomplish missions.

・However, when you tried to speak to him, all he could do was stutter.

・You allowed him to get the words out, but he was an absolute mess afterwards and went to go train.

・But this didn't deter you in the slightest. Hell, you had been trying to muster the courage to speak to him for weeks...

・It took a while for Konig to open up about his past, especially his adolescence.

・He's told you the jist of it, but there's details that you don't push him on.

・One of your favourite pastimes together is going to bakeries and eating the most delicious pastries.

・When you're feeling down, or there's something to celebrate, there's no cake but pastries instead

・Doesn't mind animals, but understands that when he's away you will get a bit lonely. So you surprised him by getting a pair of kittens!

・You showed him over video chat, one white kitten and one black.

"I haven't chosen names for them yet, but I thought maybe you could have some input?"

"Schatz! The kittens are cute but you have scratch marks all over your arms!"

"They're very playful!" And then you leant closer to the camera and whispered, "I leave scratches on your back ..." And with an innocent look on your face, you watched as Konig shivered.

・Likes to put you on his lap when he's cleaning weapons, or getting the marks out of his mask or shoes. Okay honestly, he just wants you on his lap all the time. Whatever excuse he can come up with - he'll goddamn use it

・Absolutely loves Kate Bush and Stevie Nicks. He thinks they have such a beautiful sound that you can find him with headphones on, swaying in the bedroom, silently in his feels

・All your pet names are in Austrian/German:

"Schatz", meaning 'treasure'.

"Maus," meaning 'mouse.'

"Liebling" meaning 'darling.'

"Hase" meaning 'bunny'.

"Liebe" meaning 'love.'

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Always Bringing Them Rocks They Think They Would Like (You) x Keeps The Rocks (Konig)

The Gomez & Morticia Adams

I Don’t Know What I’m Doing But At Least I’m Alive, Right? (You) x You’re Doing Great, Sweetie (Konig)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Hidden Identity & Forced Proximity

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush

The Chain by Stevie Nicks

Dance of the Druids by Bear McCreary (he loves movie scores as well. It's one of his fascinations).

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, makes me feel weird if you read it.

・Konig is a bit awkward at first with the sexual interactions you guys have. He does have anxiety, but also, the build up of sexual tension had been going on for months.

・All he had during that time was his hands and the memories of how you looked, the way your eyes met his then flicked downward - almost like you had x-ray vision.

・There was no denying the heat.

・So when you first hooked up it was a fumbling mess of grunting, clothes ripping and fast hands trying to touch and grab at any bare piece of flesh.

・You did have a shocking revelation that first time however. Because this man's cock is not only thick, veiny but nearly 9 inches when he's hard.

・That first time wasn't a true first time as the look on your face told Konig everything - you weren't ready for that part of him ... just yet.

・Loves when you ride his thigh; they're absolutely huge. Just muscled and bulky and the first time you saw them (without the uniform) you audibly gasped.

・His body is absolutely divine

・Like it had been sculpted by the gods. Large biceps, long legs, small waist, large shoulders. His hands wrap your neck perfectly.

・You feel so safe with him.

・And you have to remind him that, because sometimes he worries he could hurt you without meaning to.

"I'm a grown up, Konig. I can handle myself."

"So when are you going to let me fuck you?"

"mmm... I think I still have to get used to that. Maybe we can do fingers first..." (his fingers are ... fucking huge).

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hunnysnoops · 4 months ago

Text

ミ★ 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒦𝓎𝓁𝑒 𝐵𝓇𝑜𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓋𝓈𝓀𝒾 𝐻𝒞𝓈 ★彡

(+some general)

MASTERLIST

Doesn’t crush often but when he does, he crushes hard

Hot take- we would not choose a study date as a first date

^ I see him as the kinda guy who dates with a long term goal in mind and would want to get to know someone well off the bat

^ Bro is not messing around- he would want a first date where the two of you talk a lot and he can get to know you before committing

^I think his ideal first date would be a movie then a cafe/restaurant. Movie first so there’s a couple hours to ease the awkward first date tension and then coffee/food to talk about the movie and eventually branch the conversation out

He sends those cryptic texts like “be alert…” when there was mugging in town or something

Tags you in every post he sees. You’ll wake up and check social media to thirty messages in your inbox and they’re all from Kyle

The kinda guy to be like “Did you look at the post I sent you about the guy at the bus stop?”

Got his account banned on Twitter and went absolutely ballistic while you tried to calm him down

Runs Hay Day like it’s the navy

Definitely the type to be hooked on his phone until it dies and then complain that you’re on yours “Bro, let’s just talk about the political and economic state of the world right now…”

This might be another hot take but I don’t think he would want a childish partner, he want to be your boyfriend not your dad

^Having to zip up your coat, tie your shoelaces, or cut your food- I don’t think he would mind doing it a couple times but repeating offences would irritate him

Not big on pet names

^ I think he would be one to call you ‘bro’ ‘man’ and ‘dude’ a lot just out of habit but would probably just call you an abbreviation of your name if anything

^ perhaps babe on very rare occasion

HATES PDA

^ I fear I may have many hot takes in this post

^He would be pretty touchy in private but in public? Hell no

^ talks shit about couples who can’t keep their hands off each other in public and absentmindedly wrinkles his nose in disgust

^ the only PDA he would accept is hand holding or a quick hug

Calls and FaceTimes you out of the blue but will immediately hang up if you’re busy or with other people and call back later

He is either the most sound sleeper ever or he wakes up at the drop a pin- either way, he always ends up slinging his lanky arms around you

He’s weirdly good with hair and would have no problem braiding yours or styling it

Super supportive aspiration wise

^ sports games? He’s the loudest in the crowd. Theatre? He’s on the edge of his seat watching. Art? He’s looking at your creations like they’re in a museum.

If you have bad habits (smoking, drinking, etc.) he would try to ease you out of them but if that fails it would definitely cause conflict in the relationship

Has his moments where he snaps at you

Fights wouldn’t be often but they would be big

He would enjoy playful banter and someone who challenges him to improve

I think he would enjoy a lot of the lower beats of the relationship like staying in to watch movies, cooking together, walking and talking, silently enjoying each others company, etc.

He posts Instagram carrousels and every single one has a picture of you in it

Doesn’t even entertain people who try to flirt with him “No, thanks.” “I’m dating someone.” “I’m good.”

Shows you Reddit posts and complains about how obviously fake they are

Gets irritated by bad acting in movies “He called her Courtney Dove, fucking idiot.” “Why does she chew like that?” “Her accent sounds fake.”

Has a secret TikTok account and doesn’t know that you watch his videos on a fake account

He is well aware of rage bait but it still makes him mad because so many people fall for it so he’ll end up commenting anyways

Easily jealous

^ if he sees you talking to another guy he doesn’t trust he’ll insert himself into the conversation and pretend he knows what’s going on

Checks up on you a lot

^ He just has to know that you're okay, he has to be sure that you're safe and that if something were to happen, you would call him without thinking twice.

He wants to communicate but he’s lowkey really bad at it and can’t get in an argument with you without yelling

I imagine him as a runner

^ he’ll probably run to your house at ungodly hours, drink some water, give you a kiss, and keep running

^also lovvvves to show you his stats

He’s really good at cooking and always takes control when you two are cooking/baking together

Didn’t want to dress up on Halloween but you ultimately coerced him into doing a corny couples costume

Has a longer skincare routine than you do

He’s one of those guys to pretend to hate the reality shows and soap operas that you watch- he’ll peak from his phone, then stand from behind the couch and then he’s fully invested in the plot

#south park #south park x reader #south park x y/n #kyle broflovski #kyle south park #kyle broflovski x reader #south park kyle #sp kyle #kyle broflovski headcanons #kyle x reader

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chillinglyadventurous · 1 month ago

Text

Uptown Girl - Stanley Pines

This is an amazing request and I’m so sorry for taking so long to do this one! I just needed some time to flesh it out. Thanks, anon!!

Tags: Fluff

The air was thick with the scent of horses and freshly cut grass. The hum of excitement vibrated around you as you stood among the well-dressed crowd at the Kentucky Derby. Your designer dress, a soft pink chiffon number with lace accents, swayed slightly as a breeze tugged at the hem. You sipped champagne from a crystal flute, your manicured fingers curling around its delicate stem.

This world of wealth and spectacle was something you had always known. Your world where people spoke in hushed tones about lineage, fortunes, and winning horses. You had it all. The money, the prestige, the invitations to every exclusive event, but the world outside was always calling. The thrill of something real, something unpolished. That’s when you saw him.

Stanley Pines was a stark contrast to everything around him. You spotted him by the track, hands in his pockets, leaning against the rail like he owned the place. His brown jacket was faded, his tie barely straightened, and his mullet peeked out from under a baseball cap, a ragged badge of a life lived outside the lines. He wasn’t exactly Derby material, but something about the way he stood there, completely unfazed, drew you in. His eyes caught yours for a brief moment, mischief sparkling beneath his scruffy exterior.

Later, you found him outside, hunted him down for a sense of excitement. You shouldn't have been looking for him. He was everything your father had ever warned you about.

He was standing next to an old, beat-up car that had clearly seen better days. He was leaning on the hood, arms crossed, as if he was waiting for someone. Maybe he was looking for trouble, maybe you.

“You lost?” He asked with a devious smirk, his voice a little playful.

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his brashness. “Not quite, but I could ask you the same thing.”

Stan shrugged, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Nah, I’m exactly where I need to be. Just a guy looking to make a buck or two. You know how it is.”

The truth was, you didn’t know how it was. You had always been surrounded by luxury and comfort, people like Stan weren’t the type you encountered often, but something about him intrigued you. Maybe it was the way he didn’t seem to care about the differences between you. Maybe it was that cheeky grin that made your heart skip a beat.

“What’s a guy like you doing at some fancy schmacy get together?” You asked, tilting your head slightly, trying to hide your curiosity.

Stan chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hustling, sweetheart. Thought I could con some of these rich folks into a quick deal. No offense,” he added with a wink.

You smirked, sipping your champagne. “None taken. Did it work? Did you get one over on the ‘rich folks’?”

He laughed, low and husky. “Nah, not today. Too many eyes on me. Besides,” he looked you up and down, “I got distracted.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, but you tried your best not to let it show. “Distracted, huh? By what, exactly?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Could be the fancy dress or, maybe, it’s the fact that you don’t seem as stuck-up as the rest of ‘em.” Stan leaned in slightly with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. “How do you know I’m not? Maybe I’m just pretending to be friendly.”

“Maybe,” Stan replied, “but I’ve been around long enough to tell when someone’s faking it, but you? You’re real. That’s what got me.”

You should have felt insulted. After all, you were one of those rich folks weren’t you? Still, you felt drawn to him. He wasn’t like the polished men you were used to, like your fiancé who was surely wondering where you were. Stan was real, a little rough around the edges and full of stories you could tell had just a touch of truth to them.

“You think you’ve got me figured out, huh?” You challenged, crossing your arms as you leaned against his car, your eyes narrowing playfully.

Stan mirrored your stance, his grin never fading. “I’d bet a hundred bucks I do. You’re not here for the horses or the money. You’re here ‘cause you’re bored. Tired of your fancy life, right?" He gave a low chuckle, "I bet that dweeb that was all over you on the track as he introduced that horse was your boyfriend. You're getting tired of Mr. High-and-Dry." He looked you up and down again. "Now, you’re standing here talking to me ‘cause I’m something different.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but stopped. He wasn’t entirely wrong. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or offended,” you replied, shaking your head. “Maybe you are good at reading people.”

Stan leaned closer, his voice dropping just a bit. “I’m better than you think, princess.”

Your heart skipped at the way he called you that, but you rolled your eyes in mock irritation. “Princess, huh? You think you’re charming or something?” He winked again, his hand casually resting on the roof of the car. He was waiting to you to tell him he was right. He had your number, knew exactly why you were standing in front of him now. “Maybe I’m just looking for a change of scenery,” you teased, glancing around at the perfectly dressed crowd. “The usual isn’t cutting it anymore.”

“Ah, so you’re admitting you’re bored,” Stan said, tapping his nose like he’d just solved a mystery. “That’s the first step, you know, admitting you’ve got a problem.”

"Know a lot about addiction do you?" You laughed, shaking your head, “You’re impossible.”

“But interesting,” he shot back, leaning a little closer. “You gotta admit that.”

He was. It wasn’t long before you found yourself spending more time with him. Afternoons in the hot Kentucky sun, riding around in his beat-up car, listening to him ramble on about his latest schemes.

“You know, you’re not what I expected,” you told him one afternoon, sitting beside him as the sun set.

Stan shrugged, taking a sip from a soda can. “That’s ‘cause people don’t expect much from me. Makes it easy to surprise ‘em.” He gave you a sideways glance, “What about you? You’re not exactly what I thought a fancy girl would be like either.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, gladly letting his arm fall over your shoulders.

“I dunno,” he said, looking out at the horizon. “You’re fun and you don’t act like you’re better than me, even though you could.”

“Maybe it’s because I don’t feel better than you.”

Stan chuckled. “Careful, you keep saying things like that and I might fall in love with you.”

You should have seen it coming, but it still took you by surprise when you realized you were falling for him. Every time you caught sight of his lopsided grin or felt the warmth of his rough hand brushing against yours, your heart raced a little faster. He lived out of his car, never knowing where he’d end up next, but, with him, you felt more alive than you ever had.

One evening, as the sun set low over the Kentucky hills, you leaned against the hood of his car, watching the sky turn shades of gold and purple. Stan stood beside you, his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “You ever think about just leaving it all behind?” He asked, his voice soft in the growing twilight.

“All the time,” you whispered and you meant it. You looked up at him, your heart swelling with something you couldn’t quite name. Your head fell on his shoulder. "Rescue me, Stanley. Get me out of here."

Stan turned to face you, his eyes serious for once. “Well, then let’s do it,” he grinned. “Let’s get out of here.”

Just like that, your life changed. You left the everything behind, trading in your champagne and designer clothes for the unknown with the grifter who caught your eye. You didn’t know what the future held, but with him, it didn’t matter. All you needed was the open road and each other.

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #stan pines x reader #stanley pines x reader #stan pines #stanley pines #chillinglyadventurousfics

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nishiyako · 5 months ago

Note

OK OK. IMAGINE AIZAWA AS A FAMOUS HOLLYWOOD STAR AND THE READER IS A NEW ACTOR AND THERE WORKING TOGETHER. COULD U DO A FIC LIKE THAT. REST UP TO U! CANT WAIT TO READ IT 💕💕

After Hours (NSFW)

Pairing : Actor!Aizawa x Actor!Reader

Tags : Cowgirl, Penetration, Creampie, Pretty vanilla, reader being a menace, established relationship

Summary : After a long and painful shoot of a movie, you and your fiancé have a little after work celebration, simple and domestic for him but you have other plans.

You didn’t enjoy complaining about your job in the movie industry, afterall, lots of people would kill to have this job. You were one of the characters in a new action type of movie. You weren't the main love interest or anything just the hot lady character in the group of hero’s, thankful enough to get in as only a C-List actress but one of your most notable co-workers was the Shota Aizawa, playing the dark mysterious villain in the movie, you couldn't lie, it absolutely suited him.

Those chronic bedroom eyes, scruffy black hair with that dark husky type of voice, and those chronic bedroom eyes. Best part? You got to call him your finance.

Your relationship isn't really secret, just down low. Normal people wouldn't know but fans would think it was a pretty basic fact.

You snapped yourself back from your thoughts, feeling the tight latex suit tighten around you, hearing the sound of the zipper. You cringed looking at your character's outfit, who were you supposed to be? Cat Woman?

At Least it wasn't full body but you could still feel the twitch in your eye before heading over to hair and makeup, you passed by Aizawa rehearsing his lines in the mirror, he really was always dedicated to his role. A soft smile appears on your lips before leaving for the rest of your costume.

Hours felt like days, redoing scenes for what seemed like the millionth time, having to switch in and out with your stunt doubles, not to mention the goddamn latex suit? If this was what the industry would be like all the time you were honestly second guessing it.

What seemed like hell for you, seemed like heaven for Aizawa, having to film outside while he wore some cowboy hat and could easily cover himself up with the cape costumes department gave him, his pasty white skin still as light as it was from the start of production, guess being the villain did have its perks.

One of his favorite perks was seeing you, fighting to keep a smile on your face while you seemed like you were baking in that tight latex suit, that shiny, tight little suit. It felt wrong enjoying seeing his partner like this but that blush from your face scattered to the rest of your body, that curly hair do wasn't doing you any favors either.

He started picking up on your discomfort, a bit later than what he wanted to admit, he stood closer to you, raising his arm up, using the cape to put you under some type of shade. You look up seeing his soft smile, taking shelter in the cloak that hid you from the blazing sun.

Most of the shoot went as normal, shooting scenes and switching in and out but one of your favorite moments were the high tension scenes with the main character and Aizawas character, him monologing in a deep husky southern accent, anger in his eyes as you saw his rugged hands reaching for the gun on his holster, looking like he wanted nothing but to paint the desert sand beneath him with the blood of his enemy.

You swore you were falling in love all over again, wanting to pounce on him every second. Spoke in character perfectly almost the whole time. You haven't seen something like it yet, you haven't been in the industry like he was but you could tell, he was good.

The shoot continued as normal, when you and him would switch out you would always be found under his cape, trying to act natural. The shoot finally ended when it got too dark to get the shots needed for the movie.

Hours pass and you’re in Aizawa's private trailer, leaving yours abandoned for the afternoon. Him laid back on a couch, reading a book in a black shirt and sweats while you just got out of the changing room. Hair still a bit messy, wearing nothing but the fluffy robes from the drawers in the trailer

He was reading the book the movie was based on, trying to get more in touch with the story than just reading the script.

Taking a small strut out of the changing room, walking in front of the couch of your soon to be husband and letting the loose bathrobe fall off your shoulders and dropping to the floor.

His eyes met your nude body infront of him, knowing just what you wanted without you saying anything. He sighed, he was too tired for it, that costume was heavy and he had to wear it the whole day too. He dropped the book over his face not wanting to look at you for much longer, putting his hands behind his head, looking like he was just about to doze off.

he might do something he would regret. You were beautiful, the most gorgeous woman hes ever met dont get him wrong, but sometimes sex needs to sleep too.

A whine escaping your lips as you saw his uninterested state. You climbed on the couch, straddling him and taking a nice seat on his hips, already feeling his semi hard cock against you. You take the book he was reading off his face and closing it, he opened his eyes with the same deadness it always had “I was reading that” he said in a smokey tone.

You placed it on the table beside the both of you, “sure.” you scoffed in a sarcastic tone, lowering your lips to his neck, giving him a few kisses and love bites. “Didn’t even mark the page..” he muttered, complaining, following his sentence. “Mhm..” you mumbled against his skin, your hands already sneaking up under his shirt.

He could play coy all he wants, you could feel him getting harder under you. “Do you not want me anymore?” you asked sarcastically, pulling away from him. “Of Course I want you, every part.” He reassured, placing his hand on your thigh, giving you a sense of comfort. “But aren't you tired?” He followed up, his chest was right against yours, feeling his heavy breath right against your lips.

He was loving, caring and just a bit protective. He couldn’t live with the fact of the love of his life not getting enough sleep (the other love of his life), “Tired? It's too early for me to be tired.” you said energetically, a smile on your face. “I love your energy” Aizawa sugar coated, “But I'm pretty worn out from today, I don’t know how much I can do'' He said disappointed in himself, he loved spoiling you. but you didn’t find a problem in that, the smile on your face growing even bigger from hearing that.

“I don’t mind that.” you breathed out “I can take the lead just fine.” you said, grinding against the bulge in his sweatpants. He hissed through his teeth from your sudden movement against him, him slightly throwing back his head in pleasure.

He couldn’t say no now, you gave him the perfect excuse to lay back and have you ride him. “In that case.” he unties the knot on his sweatpants, an obvious invitation before lying back on the couch and taking his book back into his hands. “Ride away, cowgirl.” he said half jokingly in the voice of his character, that accent stuck on his tongue from speaking it the whole day.

He thought it was funny but it just made you melt.

You took off his sweatpants, letting them rest around his thighs as he read his book. You stroked his shaft a few times, your mouth already watering seeing the deep pink color of the tip and the upward turn, you felt butterflies inside you, seeing it right between your thighs, its deep pink shiny tip already making our mind race.

You licked your fingers, wetting your slit before you slowly sank in on him, you closed your eyes, focusing on just the feeling of having him inside you after a long day, while he struggled to remember which part he was reading.

As you took him all in you saw him, seeing the breath escape his lips, trying to focus on his book. You started rocking your hips back and forth, his left hand holding you steady while his eyes still on the word of his book.

You rubbed against him, with him inside you. Feeling yourself getting stretched out the more you move. Feeling the spot between your thighs get more moist than it was. Letting his tip hit your sweet spot repeatedly. Slow and gentle friction between the both of you, your palms resting on his broad chest, his free hand gently rubbing the skin on your hips, giving you that silent support that kept you going.

He managed to finish one or two pages before suddenly he felt your hips slam down on him, a moan escaping from your lips, catching by surprise. He lost track of where he was on his page, gripping onto the flesh of your hip as you started to speed up the pace of your movements.

Your legs help you bounce on him slowly, letting him hit that perfect spot inside you making you feel a little dizzy everytime.

Aizawa was a great actor, one of the best but to feel you move on him repeatedly, with so much passion and need. He couldn't act like that wasn't doing something to him. He placed his book face down on the table.

You warp your arms around his neck, your eyes filled with desperation as you bounce up and down on him in jolts of energy. His frame towering over you even if you were on top of him.

His hands helping you, guiding your hips closer to his body, his lips millimeters away from yours, feeling your breath right against the skin of hips lips, your eyes getting watery as you get overwhelmed from the basic closeness of him and the constend jolts of pleasure waving through your veins.

Aizawa was a calm and disciplined man but when you were like this, so close against him he couldn't fight the urge to hold you against him. Sloppy kisses against your lips, and the aimless and clumsy riding going on between your body’s.

Small breathy moans being exchanged between kisses as the knot inside you starts to tighten and your body starts to grow weak, finding support from the needy hands of your fiance, touching and admiring every part of you, feeling the slick of your walls tightening around him, white opaque liquid dripping down, staining the black sofa under the both of you.

He pulls away from the kiss, wiping away the saliva from the corner of your mouth. “Close yet, sweetheart?” he asked with a husky tone, feeling his breath against your ear. A whine escapes your lips as you try to find the words to say. You paw at his black shirt, holding yourself closer to him, as you whine a sad, sorry sounding “yeah…” against his ear. A light hearted chuckle escaping his mouth, hearing the depravity in your voice.

His right hand leaves the small of your back, finding the small bud in between your thighs, rubbing your clit gently, using the slick from your insides to coat his hand. Small gentle rubs stimulating you, sending waves of pleasure while you rode him.

He made sure you got there, wouldn’t want you staying up for too long before the big shoot tomorrow.

Suddenly you felt a wave of dopamine flood through you, throwing your head back with a strained moan escaping your throat, his left hand holding you close, a grunt escaping his mouth as he finished inside you, shoulders hunching over him taking in your lewd afterglow from getting all tired out.

“You tired now?” he asked as you cooled down from your high. “Pretty much..” you sighed out in a satisfied state.

●●● A/N : sorry this took so long annon, I tried to make it as actor-y as I could with it still sounding natural!!

#mha smut #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #aizawa smut

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cavillscurls · 1 year ago

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Divine Dynasty | Joel Miller Mafia AU (THE PREQUEL)

**PLEASE NOTE: This installment was written and released after Chapter Two. It can be read at any point in the series.**

Pairing: Mafia!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel graciously hosts your twenty-first birthday party at his estate. You are both finally forced to acknowledge the feelings you have been harboring for one another.

Warnings/tags: MDNI. This takes place 4 years prior to the main storyline. Foul language. Alcohol consumption. Age gap (reader is currently 21, Joel is currently 36). Dual POV. Joel wrestling with the idea of his attraction to reader. Sexual tension. Suggestive scenarios. Flirting !!! Mutual pining. General Mafia themes. No descriptions of race or body type; reader wears a bikini bathing suit. Moodboard for aesthetics only.

Word Count: 5.4k

CHAPTER ONE. | CHAPTER TWO. | SERIES MASTERLIST.

❝Babe, there’s something wretched about this.

Something so precious about this.

Where to begin?

Babe, there’s something broken about this,

but I might be hoping about this.

Oh, what a sin. ❞

— Hozier, From Eden

“Joel, I swear, if you ask me about the goddamn cake one more time, I’m gonna sock ya right in the jaw.”

Joel Miller was not a patient man.

He tried to be, albeit, not very well. In a life where one was used to getting what they wanted whenever they wanted, feeling out of control was not a skill he had mastered. And fuck, did he feel out of his element.

He didn’t realize when he offered to host your birthday party in his home that it would be such a massive undertaking. The truth was, it was only so because of his own doing. He was making it much harder on himself than needed, but how could he not? It was you. Ever since your mother passed, he had seen much more of you. Always at your fathers side. A watchful eye never passing judgment on the life they lived, only admiration and curiosity. Joel couldn’t shake the incessant need to seek another moment alone with you.

Moments altogether were few and far between. Normally reduced to watchful eyes across the room while you beamed pridefully beside your father at dinners or laughed at whatever ridiculous joke Tommy was telling the group. In truth, he had hardly spoken to you directly since you were but a child, the thought alone making his stomach clench in disgust for how quickly pure thoughts of joyous youth became an unbridled attraction.

Joel hadn’t thought much about the feelings he discovered he was harboring about you. It was purposeful. Dimming them to a dull throb in his subconscious was easier than facing the gravity of what they meant. He could admire from afar. He would admire a little closer tonight—but it was a special occasion.

Instead, he channeled all of that energy into creating the perfect evening. He had hired chefs working in his kitchen since four o’clock. The decor for the grand foyer and living space were designed and chosen meticulously, mostly gold accents to accompany that of the chandeliers. And of course, the cake, which he and Tommy spent a good thirty-five minutes arguing about, settling on a chocolate mousse that could satisfy any crowd.

Guests began arriving about an hour before Joel knew he could expect you. This was good. This meant he had ample time for people to get drunk enough to not notice how insane he was going over just about everything: did he choose the right food? The right music? Could he have possibly forgotten someone vital to invite?

He was in the midst of checking over the hors d'oeuvres for what felt like the fourth time when he felt the startling clap of a hand on his shoulder. Joel cocked his head over to see Tommy shuffle in beside him, his arm draped over his shoulders.

“Doin’ alright, big brother?” Tommy asked, but Joel had already turned his attention back to the table in front of him. He reached out to carefully adjust some of the dishes that were placed crooked.

Tommy watched him fiddle for another moment before he gave Joel’s shoulder another squeeze, this time, a bit more firm.

“Joel,” Tommy said slowly, to which his brother responded with a grunt, finally finding his eyes. Tommy was looking at him sympathetically, a quaint smile on his lips. Meanwhile, Joel was certain he already looked like a wreck. Sweat dampened his brow, his heart pounding against his chest. “Everything’s gonna go just fine,” Tommy consoled.

“Everythin’ has to go perfect.”

“It will.” It was no secret that Joel was a perfectionist, but this was beyond his usual absurdity. Normally, the younger Miller brother would not pass up the opportunity to tease, but he knew better. This was important to Joel, which made it important to the entirety of the clan.

Tommy released his brother with a final pat between the shoulders. “I’m gonna make sure they’ve got enough hands at the front. Call me if you need anythin’, yeah?” Joel’s insufficient grumble would have to suffice as a response.

If you need anything. What did he need? To get his head on straight, for one. A drink, for two. An open bar may have been one of his best ideas of the evening thus far. He hiked his way over to the makeshift station, doing his very best to avoid the eye-line of his men and arriving guests alike.

“Whiskey neat,” he mumbled to the bartender, wrapping his fingers around the glass when it was handed to him and taking it back in one, hearty swig. The burn was familiar, comforting in the way it slid down his throat. Numerous evenings much like this one were spent locked up in his parlor, the weight of an empire on his shoulders, while he nursed the entire bottle through the night. It calmed the nerves and steadied him. A habit that he, perhaps, needed to be mindful of, but was nonetheless grateful for in a moment of irritating self-doubt.

Joel Miller had never been a man to question himself, his actions, his intentions.

Not until you.

“Surprise!”

When Meg, your oldest and longest friend, told you to get dressed up for the evening, you had an astute inkling that it may have had something to do with your birthday. You were rather indifferent to the occasion, content to spend the evening with a handful of friends inside watching films and eating snacks most years. But you would never pass up a party.

Especially not when it was being hosted by none other than Joel Miller.

You had decided to get ready with Meg at her apartment, giving in to the soft nudge your father conveniently pestered you with to get out of the house. This was the first clue of the evening's plans. You spent the next few hours with homemade margaritas in hand, dancing around her living room to music much too loud while you dolled yourselves up; a routine you were all too familiar with, as many high school nights with Meg were spent doing similar antics. The dress of choice was a deep crimson, with thin straps holding up the square neckline, hugging your curves in all the right places; it reached the floor, but saved room for the generous slit up your right leg.

When the car arrived for you both, it took all of three turns before you knew exactly where it would be taking you. You had this particular route mapped out, and it wouldn’t have taken much on Joel’s part to organize your arrival with Meg. The idea alone that he sought out the guidance of your closest friend for a special day made your chest tighten in delight.

Your friends didn’t know the line of work Joel ran, but they had their educated suspicions. They were smart enough not to question; they got to bask in the glory of what his field of work provided, and to that, they were content. Meg would dance her way around the conversation a bit less inconspicuously than the others, but she never pushed. Her friendship with you went beyond any perks of your father's profession.

It wasn’t long before you were standing at the double doors of Joel’s foyer, being bathed in the love of friends and family alike. Your father was one of the first to approach you, pulling you into a hug and wishing you a happy birthday. You thanked him with glassy eyes, overwhelmed by the affection of those who greeted you. It was a warm, fuzzy feeling. Only heightening when you finally looked across the room to see a certain brown-eyed beauty sauntering over your direction as the path around you began to clear.

Oh, he looked good.

Gelled curls and a firmly pressed black suit, you already felt like mush upon his gaze. His lips were curled into a quaint little smirk, and his dazzling eyes seemed to glisten a little under the chandelier lights. A proper host, dashing and bold. And yet, when he approached you, it was easy to feel like the only two in the room.

Joel stopped a few feet short of you, and you tilted your neck back to take in his glorious tanned features. You tried to bite back the grin that spread across your cheeks, but it was impossible. Not while he was looking at you like that. Not while you knew this entire spectacle had been his doing for you. You had hardly even noticed the two champagne flutes he held until he lifted one up to eye level.

“Believe I’m allowed to give this to ya now,” he remarked, and you chuckled breathily.

He handed you one of the flutes, tipping his own in your direction for a gentle clink. You both took a sip of the bubbly sweetness and then, he was placing his free hand delicately at the small of your back to properly greet you, taking a step forward so he could lean his lips down to your ear. Your body ignited, growing taut at his touch.

“You look incredible,” he murmured, words only the two of you were allowed to indulge in. His proximity made sure of that. It also gave you a heavy whiff of him, the heady scent of his expensive cologne mixed with his natural pheromones had your head spinning.

You let your eyes close momentarily, basking in the moment that was bound to be fleeting. “Thank you,” you whispered in response, and with a soft chuckle and careful peck of his lips to your temple, he released you.

You looked up to him again, this time, pure admiration displayed behind your eyes. “This is incredible,” you told him, nodding your head towards the decorated foyer in front of you. “Thank you for arranging all of it, I—”

He held his free hand up, halting you. “Ain’t no need to thank me, darlin’. Besides,” he said, tilting his head to eye you over your shoulder. “I had a little help.”

You turned your head to see Meg standing behind you still, glittering smile and all. She shrugged, swiping a piece of hair back from her shoulder in subtle boasting.

“Oh, it was nothing.” She couldn’t even pretend to hide her pride, but you didn’t mind. Eternally grateful to have someone who would go through such trouble to appease you for one night.

It wasn’t long before Meg was blabbering about how many things and people there were to see; old friends from high school, the few from childhood, new ones from university. Family you hadn’t seen for years. A photo booth she insisted be used by you and her first. Before you knew it, she was grabbing at your hands, tugging you away from the crowd that greeted you, away from Joel. You turned your head over your shoulder to shoot him an apologetic glance at her eagerness, hoping to convey how desperately you wished to continue talking to him. You could talk to him all evening long if obligation didn’t lie elsewhere.

He softly shook his head at you, mouthing a have fun, and you convinced yourself his focused eyes were promising you they would find you later.

The rest of the occasion was just as grand as you expected it to be at the hands of Joel.

A delicious array of food that kept your belly filled pleasantly, nonetheless allowing room for the decadent dessert that came shortly after. You held your cheeks, inflamed with appreciation and embarrassment when the horde of your friends and family sang happy birthday to you. It was one of the few moments you were able to spot Joel’s eyes throughout the evening, as he dutifully held up the cake with Tommy whilst you blew out the candles. You couldn’t help but laugh when you saw him beaming at you, overcome with a delight you were not sure you had ever experienced as intensely.

The steady flow of champagne and cocktails kept your veins buzzing and your head free from worries. More of your school friends from the years had filed in throughout the evening; Steven, a particularly charming fellow that Meg had her eyes on for years, made an appearance. He brought along one of your old flings, Noah, who had remained a good friend despite your attraction to each other never blooming into more. You wondered how long it would take and how drunk Meg needed to be before she made her move on one or the other.

Around eleven, guests were beginning to make their exits at a leisurely pace. You were nowhere near tired nor ready to say goodbye to what felt like the perfect evening, but you could not overstay your welcome. Besides, nothing could diminish the sheer glee you felt in fact that Joel Miller had planned all of this just for you.

You were in the midst of embracing your father in farewell, promising him you would call as soon as you and Meg made it safely back to her apartment for the night when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning away from the doorway, you saw none other than Meg herself standing behind you, a smirk on her face and rocking giddy from heel to toe.

“Party’s not over yet, birthday girl,” she started, your confusion only sending her grin wider. “Two words: Night. Swimming.”

You frowned. “But I didn’t bring a bathing su—”

You didn’t notice the bag hanging off her fingertips until she brought it around from behind her back, dangling it in front of your face, proudly. You gave her a knowing look, and she beamed back at you because of course she came prepared. Preparedness meant you had no room to protest her plans, but even if she hadn’t come ready, you wouldn’t have complained.

Any opportunity to stay even a moment longer in Joel Miller’s home as an opportunity you would take.

“Cannonball!”

Tommy was the culprit of the barbaric screech and mighty splash of water that attacked everybody in the pool. He, amongst other younger members of the clan, as well as Meg, Steven, and Noah had joined the after-party in Joel’s spacious backyard paradise. Warm, twinkling lights you had never noticed before were strung up over the pool. You wondered if he set them out just for the occasion, a thought that made your chest warm with more than just the soothing touch of the heated water.

And yet, the gracious host himself did not partake. No, he sat idly by. Still fully clothed in his evening apparel. Watching.

You, on the other hand, could not decide whether or not you were thankful for or mortified at the choice of swimwear Meg brought you. Of course, it was your raunchiest bikini; a two-piece black set with triangles that just barely cupped each breast, and bottoms that, no matter much you tugged at them to cover more, revealed a generous amount of your ass.

You did your best not to draw too much attention to yourself, as if that was even possible on a day like this. At the very least, you tried your hardest not to keep casting eyes back at Joel who still sat at one of the lounge chairs. He would check his phone every few moments, a party still no distraction from the work he was still responsible for. But when he wasn’t occupied, you would catch his eyes on you; following your descent into the warm water, keeping a watch on the way you moved, maybe even how close the other men got to you.

The latter very well could’ve been a false fantasy, but it was one you didn’t mind indulging. Not one bit.

At one point, Tommy set up a net at the far end of the pool, rousing everyone into a game of volleyball. You were lucky the estate had no nearby neighbors, as the shouts of triumph and groans of defeat echoed loudly through the night sky. You ended up on the winning team, much to Tommy’s efforts.

The approaching midnight did little to cease shenanigans, and after the third game, it was decided that more drinks would be necessary before another round could commence. Tommy chanted in excitement over some bourbon he had in the reserve, to which both Steven and Noah showed interest in, eagerly grabbing their towels and following him inside.

You were the last to leave the pool, taking your time in drying yourself when you reached for your towel that was conveniently placed on the lounge chair adjacent to Joel’s. He had made no effort to move, still lost in his phone.

This is your chance, you thought. The most unobtrusive opportunity tonight thus far to get yourself a moment alone with him. You scrunched at your wet hair painfully slow, hoping the crowd would disappear without so much as a glance in your direction.

“You coming?!” Meg called from the sliding door.

Fuck.

“Uh, yeah! I’m just gonna dry off a little more. I’ll catch up,” you assured her with a tight lip smile. She returned it with an arch of her brow but pressed no further before slipping inside.

With the majority of the chatter migrated back to the house, a calming silence fell over the backyard. You could hear the crickets in their dusk song, a soft rustle of wind through the leaves on the trees, skin prickling with goosebumps at the realization that it was colder outside the warmth of the pool. When you were certain the back door would not reopen, you turned your attention back to the occupied lounge chair.

Joel’s eyes were already on you.

“Too cool to join us?” you teased, tilting your head at him as you continued to run the towel through your hair.

His lips curled into a smirk. “Someone’s gotta be sober ‘nough to keep an eye on y’all,” he mused, carefully tucking his phone back into his jacket pocket. When he looked at you now, it was as though it was the first time he was really seeing what you were wearing. Or not wearing. He was shameless, letting his gaze run over the entirety of your figure once, twice, mapping out damp skin and committing it to memory.

You, on the other hand, were speechless. A gawking statue frozen in a perpetual daze, unmoving to the only spectator who had ever made you feel like a piece of art worth looking at. Joel had that ability. To cast away your insecurities with his suave words and tender eyes, never giving any indication that his intentions with you were anything but sincere, whatever they may be. It was no wonder he consumed your very being; night and day, an endless cycle of senseless yearning you attempted, and failed, to tame.

You realized, then, that your time was limited. Girlish fantasies and chronic overthinking of his every move would have to wait. You braced yourself with a deep breath, wrapping the towel around your torso and rolling back your shoulders in an attempt to release some of the budding tension before carefully stepping towards the chair beside him, and plopping down on the edge. It was now or never.

“Well, it’s certainly not me you have to worry about,” you feigned innocence, batting your eyelashes rather dramatically. Teasing him. “I’ve never had a drop of alcohol before tonight.”

Joel threw his head back, laughing. The kind that spread his lips so wide, his dimple showed, filling your stomach with heat. “No, ‘course not,” he agreed, turning his body to mirror you, knees nearly touching across the short distance between chairs. “Too much of a good girl to do such a thing, right?”

The way he said it, low in his chest, his chin tilted down and peering up through devilish eyes, you couldn’t even allow yourself to entertain the idea that he was just being nice. Being Joel. That had always meant something entirely different when it came to you, anyway, hadn’t it? All rational was thrown to the wind, and for a moment, as foolish as it may have been, you let yourself indulge in the idea that perhaps he was interested in you beyond being the daughter of one of his men.

“Right,” you breathed, internally scolding yourself for how winded you already sounded.

He was studying you again. In a way that made you hyper aware of your body, the droplets of water rolling over your skin the only saving grace from the way it burned under his gaze. Joel pursed his lips, and then:

“Come here,” he beckoned, lifting a hand to curl his fingers gesturally in the air. Your brows furrowed in momentary confusion. How much closer did he want you to get?

Realizing how stupid your own question was, you wordlessly stood, holding the towel taut around you as you stepped into the space between his thighs. He craned his neck back to look at you, the twinkle that sparked in his eyes simultaneously frightening and exhilarating.

“Sit,” he commanded softly, patting his thigh and seeming to pay no mind to the way your body was already dripping water onto his slacks.

Your brows lifted and your lips parted a bit in surprise. He must have been losing it. You must have been losing it. “But…I’m all wet,” you said, your eyes peering sheepishly down at him.

He tilted his chin up at you, a casual smirk ghosting his lips. “I gotta closet full of suits, darlin’. I ain’t gonna miss this one.”

You wondered if he heard the way your breath caught in your throat.

You were a damn fool to even consider denying his request. Joel Miller asking you to sit on his lap? He may as well have plucked the very fantasies from your brain with his own fingertips. If only you could tell the nagging voice in the back of your head reminding you of who he was, where you were, to shut up for five minutes. What better day of the year was there for selfish indulgences, anyway?

And fuck, were you eager to be selfish for him.

You didn’t allow yourself to dawdle any longer. Wordlessly, you lowered yourself onto one of his thighs, muscles rigid. He eyed you the entire time, the intensity of them drawing you in like a moth to a flame. His legs were sturdy below you, but his hands remained dutifully to himself.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” he spoke, his voice somehow sounding richer this close. He was reaching into his back pocket then, pulling out what was revealed before you as a black, velvet box.

You sucked in a breath. “Joel…” You peered down at the rectangle in his hands, feeling as though your chest may explode. The entire evening had been grand, the idea of any more endowments seeming almost undeserved. “You really didn’t have to get me—”

“Hush, now. Ain’t no way you thought I wasn’t gettin’ you a gift,” he interrupted, shaking his head at you. “Been waitin’ all night to give it to you,” he admitted, the soft glimmer that casted over his eyes when he said it making your heart flutter. “Go on, open it,” he urged you softly.

You stared at the box for a moment before finally reaching out to hold it between your fingers, paying no mind to the way the towel slipped from below your arms. It bunched up around your lap, and you swore you felt Joel’s body tense below you. With trembling fingers, you carefully took off the top.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, eyes grown wide. Splayed within the box was a dainty station necklace; what it lacked in gaudiness it made up for in sparkle, a sequence of gems, alternating between diamonds and your birthstone. Even in the lowlight, they twinkled. Confirming their legitimacy.

You were overcome by incessant emotion; the idea of him spending time meticulously hand-picking a gift for you, one that you would wear with pride, an eager display of the way his charm had consumed you, dowsed you in a sick sense of pride. Not to mention how expensive it must have been, and yet, he deemed you worthy. The thought alone made you shiver.

You tilted your head over your shoulder, eyeing up at him wistfully through your lashes. He was so close, and he smelled so good. Peering carefully down at you, you saw his eyes flicker to your lips.

“Put it on for me?” you asked softly. You watched the muscle in his jaw twitch before he nodded once. Hesitation was no longer a foe. You gave into instinct, turning your body until you were perched forward on his lap, his chest flushed against your back.

Joel reached around you, carefully lifting the necklace from the plush fabric it sat atop. You snaked a hand up, gathering your hair to the back of your head as he brought the gift closer to your neck. You couldn’t help but let your eyes flutter shut.

You were consumed by him. The sturdiness, the safety of his body around you. Warm breath fanning cool skin, while yours came bated. You imagined what a predicament you must have looked like, then; Joel, fully clothed, your scantily clad body rested back against him. Perhaps you should have been ashamed, but all you could picture was what it would be like, feel like, to be just like this in a much less savory scenario. What it may feel like to have his hands mold your body to their touch, the way his lips would bleed whispers into your skin.

His knuckles brushed the tip of your spine while he secured the clasp. Sat perfectly above your collarbones, you couldn’t help but let your hair fall to reach the same hand forward, tracing gentle fingers over the stones.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured. “Thank you.”

You weren’t sure he heard you at first, but then, you felt it. Feather-light, you assumed your mind was playing tricks on you. But there was no denying the rough sensation of his stubble as it tickled your neck, the plush of his lips just barely grazing your skin right below the precious gift. You stiffened, body set alight at the smooth pass of his warm breath over your wet skin. There was no doubt he could see the goosebumps that rapidly began to litter your arms and legs, and you held your breath in fear of whatever would come out in response to having him so close.

“M’glad you like it,” he muttered, right into the crook of your neck, and you couldn’t stop yourself from clenching your thighs together. The delicious baritone vibrating straight through to your core.

“I love it,” you emphasized, not trusting your voice to speak any more above a whisper. Even then, it came out mangled, strained. On the precipice of losing control.

Up until then, he had been rather restrained. But the hands he had honorably kept to himself had crept up slowly, knuckles brushing over the sides of your thighs. Even with the barrier of the towel, your skin felt like fire under his touch.

You could’ve stayed like that forever, huddled up in his lap, his very own branding around your neck, waiting patiently for whatever move he made next. But you were feeling bold, a bit tipsy, and intoxicated by the idea of him. Carefully, you maneuvered yourself atop of him again, turning halfway back around until you were able to look at him properly.

His eyes were on you, taking you in much closer than ever before. It made you gasp, the intensity of his gaze, though you couldn’t seem to falter from it. Tentative hands had crept up your thighs, settling delicately on either hip. Your hands ached to reach out and touch him in return, but your brain left you frozen. Casted under the spell of proximity, his scent alone, like hearty wood and a hint of mint, dampened your senses.

He said your name once. Quiet. A warning, or an inquisition, perhaps. Then, his eyes flickered down to your lips again, this time, lingering there. You could feel his breath against your face; one motion, and you could taste him. Satiate a hunger deeply rooted inside of you for years past and years to come. But he was already moving, lifting a hand and dragging two fingers over the apple of your cheek, tucking away strands of damp hair behind your ear.

Your breath had picked up, so loud you were sure he could hear it. See the way your chest heaved up and down. You thought you noticed his hitch, too. Shoulders taut and inviting below his button-up. The hand that pushed away your hair lingered at the nape of your neck, between your hairline and his precious gift, holding you loosely in place.

He watched the way you took your bottom lip between your teeth nervously before dampening his own with his tongue. You followed the way it dragged across the appealing surface in awe, craving nothing more than to taste the very same spot.

When he said your name a second time, your thighs clenched harder than before. It was deep, almost a groan of sheer desperation and dwindling restraint. His grip on the back of your neck tightened ever so slightly, and you didn’t even have the capacity to question the integrity of what was about to happen because it was happening.

Unwilling to let the opportunity slip away, you reached a shaky hand forward and pressed it to his chest. This time, you were certain his muscles twitched, because you could feel them. Bouncing below your touch, as if your pliancy was a pleasant surprise. Maybe it was to him, but for you, it was the easiest decision in the world.

You held your breath, the invisible magnet between the two of you pulling you both forward until the tip of his nose brushed yours. You heard him inhale, the anticipation and hesitancy in both of your movements nearly too much to bear. A culmination of every desire you had ever experienced reduced to one moment.

The faintest brush was his lips, ghosting over yours, never quite leaning in. Testing the waters. Perhaps he expected you to retreat, dismiss him in a fit of rage. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. The truth lay in the way you grabbed a fist full of his shirt between your fingers, your eyes perpetually following the movement of his mouth. His own hand tightened at the base of your skull, wrapping his fingers through your hair. A low sort of groan resonated in the back of his throat, and you heard the metaphorical thread of his restraint snap. He was pulling you to him, snaking his free arm around your waist to flush you forward, slanting his mouth towards yours with another delicate, mind-numbing brush of his lips, just about to capture yours and —

The sound of voices re-emerging through the back door ceased your fantasy before it even had a chance to begin.

You were off of Joel’s lap in seconds, scurrying to your feet and he back to his respective spot in the lounge chair. You stood petrified as Meg and the others filed into the backyard, unable to look at Joel while you shakily wrapped your towel back around you. You could hear him, though. Breath as labored and uneven as yours, dark eyes probably blown in the same sort of fear. You fiddled with your hair, trying to look inconspicuous as if you hadn’t just been perched on the lap of your father's boss, a man much older than you, who happened to be the head of the fucking mafia.

You should have felt more shame for the way that reality drenched you in arousal. It coated every inch of your skin; insatiable and growing, only fueled by the weakness in his self-control that you prayed would continue to break. The gift around your neck was an anchor, bounding you to him more than ever before. The feel of his lips, however brief, a beacon of his shared desire, the certainty you felt in it now destined to drive you mad.

Perhaps you would be the one to give in, to lose all sense of control.

You wouldn’t speak about that fleeting moment. At least, not for years to come. But it was only a matter of time.

Because fuck, you wanted him.

So desperately, you weren’t sure you would be able to stop yourself from wanting him until you had him.

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i know it’s not joel, but fits this version of him too well not to include.

#divine dynasty series #mafia!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller mafia au #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller au #pedro pascal #Spotify

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mktskii · 2 months ago

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—Coffee Confession

—Synopsis: Bakugou Katsuki, a student at the prestigious U.A. High, works part-time at a café, where he begrudgingly deals with annoying customers for some extra cash—until you show up. A new transfer from the States, you're still learning Japanese, and Bakugou, known for his tough attitude, surprisingly goes out of his way to make your favorite drink just right.

—Pairing: Barista!Bakugou Katsuki x AFAB!blk + interational!reader

—Genre: Slow-burn thats lowkey a bit fast-ish(?), Slice of Life, Quirkless AU

—Tags: Quirkless AU, café setting, crush to lovers, fluff, cutness, secret soft side, Bakugou being a cutie, cute confession, cultural differences, language barrier, reader from the states, UA high school.

Bakugou couldn’t believe it. Of all the part-time jobs he could've taken, he ended up working at a cafe. It wasn’t like he needed the money—he was already attending the most prestigious school in Japan, U.A. Academy, where future business leaders, innovators, and geniuses like him were trained. But a job was a job, and for some reason, the idea of working in a cafe didn’t seem all that bad. Plus, he liked money. Except for when they showed up.

"Hey, Bakugou!" A group of annoying guys he hated from U.A. strolled into the cafe. They were the type he despised—the overly popular, arrogant jocks that people gravitated to. Bakugou had beef with them for as long as he could remember. The day they beat him by a measly three points in that basketball game still burned in his brain. He took orders with his usual scowl, holding back the urge to shove them out the door. When they asked for caramel lattes, his mouth twitched in delight. He spoke without really thinking about it.

“We don’t have caramel today. Get something else, unless you want a regular latte,” he said, his tone dripping with venom.

The idiots groaned and, after a few minutes of begging him to check if he was absolutely sure it wasn't in stock, walked off. Bakugou was pleased.

But that’s when you stepped up to the counter. You, with your deep caramel skin and soft glow, looking like you were straight out of a painting. The way your tight curls framed your face, highlighting your striking almond-shaped eyes, made Bakugou freeze. He’d seen you around U.A. before—always asking for directions in broken Japanese, struggling to find your way. You weren’t like those other morons; you had a calm, almost serene aura that intrigued him. Just barely, though. But you always looked so lost, and now, here you were, clearly overwhelmed by the menu and situation.

You panicked a little, your fingers drumming against the counter as you tried to figure out what to order. "Um… sorry… give me a second," you stammered, your accent thick but your effort admirable. You had wanted a caramel latte, too.

Bakugou, normally impatient with customers, felt a strange pull to not be his usual rude self. He almost snapped, but he found himself biting his tongue. You were just… different.

“Take your time,” he said, almost too casually.

You looked up in surprise, probably expecting him to yell at you like he did to everyone else. Even you knew about his reputation by now. His face still held that signature scowl, and yet, behind his fiery eyes, there was something softer there. Something less abrasive. He watched you, trying not to let his face betray anything, but you, like most people, probably mistook his intense gaze for irritation. And sure, Bakugou looked pissed a lot, but this time, it wasn’t that. He was just... looking at you.

When you finally settled on a regular latte, you gave him your name. His friends, Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima, finally showed up, ready to work, but Bakugou had already zoomed to make your drink himself. He even threw in some caramel for you, even though he'd just told the others they were out of stock. He could assume you wanted it, since the few times you'd come, he always heard you order it. Today was just his day. He's making it for you. You weren't one of those idiots he hated; you didn’t deserve the same treatment. Not that he liked you or anything. Definitely not. He just didn’t hate you.

“Here,” he said, handing you the latte, brushing off your confused look when you realized there was caramel in it.

"Didn't you say there wasn’t any caramel?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bakugou shrugged, handing it to you with a gruff, “Found some in the back.”

You smiled and nodded, seemingly grateful for the small gesture, and left the cafe. But then, you glanced at the name he’d written on your cup. You squinted, trying to decipher the kanji.

“‘Girl who takes too long to order’…?”

You couldn’t help but giggle. Despite his intimidating exterior, Bakugou had a funny, albeit slightly insulting, sense of humor. It didn’t stop there, though. Every time you came back, he wrote something different.

“Caramel latte for the caramel-looking girl.”

“Order for the nerdy brat.”

“Drink for the idiot who speaks trash Japanese.”

But each time, you only smiled and rolled your eyes, giving him a look that said, Really? He’d just shrug, smug as ever.

His friends noticed, of course. Kaminari figured it out first. "Dude, you totally like her," he teased one day when you weren’t around. Bakugou immediately punched him in the shoulder. Hard.

Every time you would come in, Bakugou glared at them, daring them to say something to you. Sero, being the linguist of the group, once tried to speak to you in English, and you looked so relieved and happy to finally understand someone that Bakugou nearly exploded from jealousy.

After that, he downloaded Duolingo, ready to tear that annoying green bird apart if it meant he could speak to you fluently. Learning English was a pain, but the thought of seeing that same smile you gave Sero was worth it. He needed to be the one to make you smile like that.

Not that he liked you or anything. No way. You were just… well, fine.

He liked you.

But Bakugou being Bakugou, he was really nervous to confess and act all lovey or whatever. That wasn’t his style. So, he kept up the insults, kept up the weird names on your cups, hoping you’d catch on eventually that they were slowly not so insulting anymore.

And then one day, after your usual order, you rushed out the door, clearly late for something. You didn’t have time to look at the cup until you were halfway down the street. You pulled it up to your face and read the label.

“‘Pretty girl I want to date.’”

You stopped dead in your tracks, heart pounding. Did you read that right? You glanced back at the cafe, feeling a rush of adrenaline. Before you knew it, you were running back, nearly knocking someone over in your hurry. You burst through the doors, slightly out of breath, and caught Bakugou’s eyes from across the counter.

He looked… devastated that he didn’t get to see your initial reaction. But when you stood there, staring at him with wide eyes, the hint of a blush on his cheeks gave him away.

It wasn’t the most conventional confession. But for Bakugou? It was perfect.

“Well? What’s your answer, dumbass?” he muttered, trying to hide how nervous he actually was.

You just smiled.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

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starkwlkr · 4 months ago

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thriller | mark webber

90s au

summerween series

Working the closing shift on Halloween night was the worst thing ever. Who would want to work on the spookiest night of the year? Working wasn’t Y/n’s original plan. She was already in her Wendy Torrance costume when she got a call from her manager saying she was needed last minute to close the store. She had no choice, she needed the money to get out of her crappy town.

She showed up still in costume, it was Halloween after all. When she got to the store, a small line of people were waiting outside. Why? Apparently everyone wanted to rent a horror movie at the same time. . .

“We’ve been waiting for an hour!” Some guy dressed as Dracula complained as Y/n started to unlock the door.

“I can make you wait more.” She replied with an eye roll. She let everyone in and walked to her spot behind the counter. Since it just her working she got to pick the music. She went through the CD rack until she found Bloody Kisses by Type O Negative.

As the music played, she went around the store turning on the orange and red string lights, helping customers and arranging tapes in their rightful place.

“Wendy, darling, light of my life!” She heard a familiar Australian accent. She turned to the voice and saw Mark.

“No costume? I’m afraid I’m going to have to kick you out, Webber.” Y/n joked, walking back to her usual spot behind the counter.

“I’m in costume! I’m dressed as the guy who’s going to take you out on a date.”

Y/n smirked. “Nice try. I have work.”

Mark was always a flirt with y/n. It was nothing new. Half of their friends thought they were dating.

“Dates can be wherever,” Mark watched as she helped a customer. “Could be fun.”

Y/n finished scanning the vhs tapes for the customer. “A date in my workplace on Halloween night sounds fun to you?” She gave back the customer their items in a bag and their change.

“Anywhere is fun with you.” Mark really knew how to make a girl blush.

Y/n sighed, having completely given up on saying no to Mark. “Fine. But you’ll have to wait until my shift is over.”

That’s shouldn’t be so hard. Of course every time a customer would leave, another would enter. It was like that for two hours. Mark was beginning to think their date would never happen.

“Thanks, happy halloween!” Y/n said to the last customer, shutting the front door and locking it. Finally! Her shift was done. She checked the clock on the wall. 11:56 PM. Not bad . . . “It’s still Halloween.” Y/n said to herself.

Somewhere in the store, Mark was looking at the slasher section. Friday the 13th, Halloween, Scream. . . He needed something new.

“Hey, find something interesting?” Y/n questioned as she took off her name tag and placed it in her pocket.

Mark shook his head. “We’ve seen them all multiple times. I don’t know how long I can watch Jamie Lee scream while she’s being chased by Michael.”

“Hey! Jamie Lee is my final girl for life.” Y/n said. “I think MTV is showing the thriller music video at 12.”

“You mean the music video that made you have nightmares and sleep with a night light for two years?” Mark chuckled.

“I was seven, that’s a perfectly reasonable.”

“Don’t come running into my arms when zombie MJ starts haunting your dreams again.” Mark added.

“As if!”

“Just you wait, sweetheart.”

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber fluff #mark webber imagine #mark webber fanfic #mark webber #summerween series

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lxclerc · 2 years ago

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𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

summary: when a world famous singer's reputation takes a hit, she never expects to meet a man determined to stay with her through it all. pairing: charles leclerc x reader warning: none, fluff note: part 1 of the reputation series. let me know if you want to be part of the tag list!

masterlist

you should take it as a compliment that i got drunk and made fun of the way you talk

your head is absolutely pounding and you’re sure that someone must be attempting to crack your skull open, but the arms wrapped around your waist reminds you exactly why you’ve spent most of the night downing shots after shots. ‘

you needed the alcohol to distract you from walking over to the other side of the room where he stood – bright green eyes and a brighter laugh that caught your attention the moment you walked in. or maybe you needed the alcohol to give you the courage to walk over to him.

people surrounded him and you’d seen a few ask to take a picture with him, requests you yourself have been getting the entire night but had to politely decline with an offer to buy them a drink instead. this man is gracious though, definitely not as patient as you – he smiles for every picture, chats with anyone that talks to him.

he must be someone, you thought. someone important, someone that matters. and someone that you’re not likely to forget anytime soon and so you down a shot.

“charles leclerc,” your friend says, having watched you watch him all night. “formula 1 driver.”

you feel a little bit caught but you’re drunk enough not to care as you turn to him again. he’s magnetic, a type of beautiful that had people turning. he definitely had you turning.

“let’s go over to them,” your friend says, already looping her arm with yours and pulling to the group before you could respond. you see some of their eyes widening as you approach, you see him turning to you, green eyes filled with recognition as he realized who you were. you almost wish you’d brought a bottle over with you.

“y/n,” one of his friends say, pulling your attention away from the driver. you’re almost thankful, being so close to him now feels a little overwhelming. “i’m a big fan.”

you feel him watching you and so you grin. you try to ignore the small voice in your head grimacing. it’s a wonder you still have fans nowadays. after the massive fall your reputation had taken, you’re a little bit surprised your friends had managed to drag you out of your apartment.

“thank you,” you say, hoping you aren’t slurring.

you’re not exactly sure how it happened but somehow, the rest of your friends ended up on their table too, the two groups merging together seamlessly as the music grew louder and the alcohol keeps flowing. you’ve talked to nearly all of them, laughing and sharing stories and joking around as though you’ve been best friends for decades.

all except him, of course. he remains in your line of vision and you feel his stare on you the entire night but you refuse to look. it’s a horrible idea, your reputation’s never been worse, you remind yourself. getting tangled up with another man to add to your long list of scandals might just have your media team resign on the spot.

of course that was up until he shattered whatever self control you had left as his hand wandered to your waist. it wasn’t anything with purpose, barely even a touch just something to get your attention but goddamn this man needed to think about the consequence of touching you in dark rooms.

“are you avoiding me?” he jokes and before you knew it, you’re face to face and you can smell the whiskey on ice mixing with his cologne.

and he’s gorgeous – just too goddamn beautiful that it almost makes you mad.

“your accent is funny,” you say and then you cringe.

his eyebrows scrunch together. he definitely hadn’t expected those to be your first words to him.

“Vous préférez que je parle français ?” he says, the words rolling off his tongue like honey. Would you prefer that I speak French?

god truly has favorites because of course he speaks french. he can’t possibly be just beautiful.

charles chuckles. “i speak italian too.”

oh. you hadn’t realized you said it out loud. “i didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

and then he laughed and you knew damn well he’s going to ruin all of your plans.

you're so gorgeous i can't say anything to your face

and so here you were, head pounding and dealing with the world’s worst hangover but having whatever ridiculously expensive cologne charles leclerc uses clinging to your skin.

you aren’t sure if you’re relieved or disappointed to find yourself still wearing the sparkly dress you were wearing last night. and though charles’ shirt had disappeared to god knows where, the dark cargo pants he wore is still present.

dimly, you remember your drunken slurring, arms wrapped around his neck. he was only a little less drunk than you were, but he’d mixed up french and italian with english sometime after you’d lightly pulled at the hair on the back of his head as you both attempted to dance to the beat.

and as the sun began rising and both your friends had decidedly chose to call their own cabs, charles hadn’t even needed to ask you if you wanted to go to his hotel with him. he’d simply grabbed your hand and gently led you to his car. he doesn’t let go of your hand as he drives and not as you enter the elevator. even now as he sleeps and you’re cocooned within his arms, his hand is tightly entwined with yours.

it feels a bit odd; waking up so intimately wound with someone knowing nothing sexual needed to happen first. it feels odd to be held knowing he expects nothing in return. pure intimacy booths excites you and frightens you.

“ne veut pas encore partir,” you hear him mutter as he shifts, burying his head deeper against your neck. his arms around you tightens as he pulls you flushed against his chest.

you don’t know what to do with yourself, you can only be thankful that you aren’t facing him because god knows you’d end up stuttering and flushing being subjected to those green eyes. the man was far too gorgeous, it almost makes you mad. you only hope he can't hear the way your heart is beating so furiously against your chest.

“i have no idea what you just said,” you say.

“i said,” he mutters with a sigh. “i don’t want to go yet.”

disappointment hits you like a hot brick. “do you have to?”

he pulls his hand from under you, looking at his red richard mille watch. “i have to be on track before eleven.”

right. you forgot he drove for a living. you heaved a sigh as you pulled yourself away from his hold, ignoring the way he groaned and the sudden chill as the air condition hit your bare arms. you pick up your phone, finally breaking the safe bubble you’ve both created. you can’t help but release another sigh at the messages sent by your publicist; all consisting of different articles showing pictures of you leaving the club, hand being pulled by charles with his head ducked. thankfully, his face is pretty hidden apart from a blurry side view with him turning towards you.

you don’t want to drag charles into your bullshit more than you already have.

charles finally stands, putting on his discarded shirt. “breakfast before i go maybe?”

you couldn’t help but smile, putting your phone into your pocket as you return to your safe bubble. “yeah, i’d really like that.”

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @rdtbattinson @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16 @troybolton-14 @ohthemissery @dr3lover @myescapefromthislife @sunf1owerrq @the6ccnsp6cyy @t-nd-rfoot

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x yn #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x yn #charles leclerc smut #formula 1 #f1 #formula 1 one shot #charles leclerc one shot

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somewhereincairparavel · 2 months ago

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HOO if they were in a band/orchestra - boys edition pt 1 (Percy, Jason and Leo)

Percy Jackson- Guitarist

i honestly don't know if I'm being cliche or something, but percy seems like someone who just picks up the guitar and strums it a little before leaving. Like the guitar is a light hearted instrument that you can self learn fairly well, we all know percy HATES tutors of any kind (unless it's annabeth) and would probably like figuring things out himself, so he'd just strum it until he somehow got the tunes he'd want and would probably look up YouTube tutorials lmfao. I feel like sally would like listening to the beatles, and percy would listen along aswell and get inspired to play and perform like that for his mom one day?? A green flag mama's boy till the very end lol. He would eventually start to play guitar of most kinds (bass, electric, acoustic) he'd start with an acoustic first, because it's less intimidating but he'd grow to LOVE electric tbh. So he'd definitely be the sub guitarist of the band. I think his favourite genre would be jazz or rock.

Jason Grace- Violinist

Okay the violin is literally HIS kind of instrument. I feel like he'd really enjoy listening to classical music like vivaldi- the seasons, Mozart's violin Concerto No.5 in A Major, Dmitri Shostakovich's waltz no. 2, etc. especially because if we hc camp jupiter as having something even remotely fun like camp orchestra (camp half blood can be the band bc we KNOW camp jupiter is too uptight and proper for having rock, metal or jazz bands freely, they seem more of the orchestra type) then I KNOW jason would be the lead Violinist tbh. He probably picked that up as a toddler and ended up loving it, it helps him ease into his stress from harsh practice. Also, if he does join a band in camp half blood at the same time, he'd be a lead vocalist tbh. I feel like NOBODY expected jason to be a good singer because people are used to his 'rough' and gruff voice, but it's actually really sweet and melodious, he just roughens it up for his duty as a war leader. He'd have a silky melancholic edge to his voice that's super unique and perfect for singing heartbreaking ballads, also since he's a latin speaker, I feel like his pronunciation of certain words would be very eloquent and he'd have a slight accent that everyone is really intrigued by.

Leo Valdez- drummer

ahh okay so we know how much leo loves tapping and fidgeting right? I feel like drums would be his DREAM instrument because they relieve his stress and nervousness. He'd just tap his drums in his free time. I feel like piper would be the one who would tell him to audition as the drummer in the band, seeing how well he actually drums. He'd genuinely enjoy the drumming. OH OH OH he'd love to use the crash cymbal on his drums (yknow like the steel plate looking things) in the end of each performance for the IT factor of the performance ahh he'd smile the whole time looking so badass. I feel like his position as the drummer would give him immense confidence because everyone compliments him sm.

tagging people who asked me to :) @lizzzzzzzzzzzzzz---lol @boldofyoutoassumeicanspell @themythecho

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beejunos · 8 months ago

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SINNERMAN | Alastor x f.reader | part 1.

Summary: After Sir Pentious's failed attempt at spying on the hotel, the Vees approach you to make a new deal—a deal that you can't refuse. Help them take down Alastor, and you will get to kill him again.

After all, the great butcher of New Orleans had killed your brother, so it was only fair that you had killed him in return. And you would love to do it again.

Tags: Alastor x f!reader, slow burn, obsessive behaviour, enemies to lovers, spying, murder

PART 1. | AO3 | PART 2.

Chapter 1. The Deal

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Hell was not just a place where souls who had done horrific things with pleasure went, but also with people who had done appalling things out of necessity. Murderers, thieves, abusers and, growing more in numbers every year, politicians - hell was not a place for the weak-minded, but sometimes a human could be pushed into such acts, not because they themselves were more inclined to such behaviour, but because circumstance could turn anyone into a bloodthirsty killer.

You were one of those people.

Condemned to Hell for an eternity for a crime that you still believed to be justifiable. After all, the great butcher of New Orleans killed your brother, so it was only fair that you killed him in return.

"I told you it was a bad idea to pick that idiot to spy on the hotel. Did you honestly think it would work?" said Velvet without looking up from her phone. She was typing something with rapid-fire as she blew a bubble with her pink gum. It made a big popping sound that seemed to echo in the living room, making Vox clench his fist so as not to destroy the desk again. They had just replaced the last desk after he had dug his claws into it and left deep and long marks in the wood, and he did not feel like getting yelled at again for ruining the decor.

Vox counted to ten slowly backwards before he turned around from the monitors to look at the short woman. She was sitting curled up on the sofa before him, dressed in luxurious loungewear with hearts all over it. Valentino was sitting stretched out right beside her, his arm casually on the backrest. He was on his phone as well and did not look up when Vox came closer, but Vox could see that he was also irritated by Velvet's comment from the slight twitching of his right eye.

"Well, Velvet, my dear," Vox said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I don't remember you having a better idea, but please, if you do, share it with the group."

Vox stopped walking as he reached the sofa, hands behind his back, and leaned down in front of the female sinner to force her to look at him. He had never been good with others ignoring him, and Velvet was taking her sweet time finishing her text before she even looked up from her phone. When she met his eyes, electricity was firing between his antennas, filling the air with static noise.

She just sighed before she picked up her phone again and started typing.

"You picked an idiot; that's why your plan didn't work. Little Miss Sunshine will believe anyone; just pick a smarter spy next time," said Velvet in her heavy British accent, popping another bubble with her gum. Vox's irritation grew with every word she uttered, and for a moment, he entertained the thought of grabbing her phone and throwing it out the window.

"And who do you suggest we'll ask?"

It took Velvet a few more seconds of searching before she found a decent photo, and then she turned her phone and showed Vox who she had in mind. The photo was old and blurry, with its subject in the distance, but it was still possible to distinguish who was in the picture. Vox turned his piercing gaze from Velvet down to her phone and quickly stepped back.

"You can't be serious!"

"Who?" said Valentino, now interested, as Vox started to pace the room. Velvet turned her phone towards the moth demon, and he reared back in alarm. "Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you even know how expensive she is?"

"So what? If you want the job done well, then pay a fucking professional," stated Velvet as if it was apparent.

"Professional? She runs a PR firm! Glorified party whores. Why the fuck should she be the spy?" cried Valentino, throwing his arms in the air. The gesture would have made anyone in his studio flinch, waiting for an impact, but Velvet sat rooted in her seat. She was used to the man's physical displays of anger by now but never feared them since he would never dare lay a hand on her. She lifted one of her eyebrows and continued with her argument:

"Didn't you see the fucking joke of an interview the princess did on the news? The hotel has a serious marketing problem. Everyone thinks it's a joke! What if the princess had someone to help her with the marketing and networking? Someone she would trust wholeheartedly, and that person worked secretly for us? It would be the best fucking spy! Not a guest but a staff member who could manipulate everything from the inside. We would know everything. A staff member would also be with the princess all the time and could keep an eye out for Alastor to make sure that no deal is made!"

Valentino groaned loudly before throwing his phone on the coffee table. He knew that Velvet's argument was good; he just did not like how expensive it would become if they went with it. There was a reason only the top of the elite of hell hired this PR firm, and it wasn't just for the public relations part. Rumours were travelling around the underground networks that you also dealt with some shady businesses, but who weren’t in this town?

"Can't we just kill them ourselves? I still want to shoot someone," mumbled Valentino, knowing none of his partners would accept the idea.

"And what? Piss of Lucifer for attacking his daughter? We could just piss on our own graves instead! If we pay her, we know she will get the job done; after all, you've heard the rumours, right?"

"What rumours?" snarled Valentino, sinking deeper into the sofa. His night was now officially ruined.

"No one hates Alastor more than she does."

"Well, that's not new! Half the city hates the old-timey prick." Vox, who had been pacing back and forth deep in his thoughts, abruptly stopped and turned around to look at Velvet. He also highly doubted anyone could hate the radio demon more than he did, but that was beside the point.

"So, let's use that to our advantage," said Velvet, growing more frustrated by the minute, "She is bound to at least be interested in the job if we can convince her to take down Alastor with us."

It wasn't a dumb idea, which annoyed Vox the most. However, his desire to take down Alastor outweighed any concerns for costs. He was prepared to cut his own leg off with a rusty saw if it meant he could take down the demon that plagued his very existence.

Vox sighed and crossed his arms in front of him, effectively giving up on arguing against Velvet.

"Okay, how do we contact her?"

On the opposite side of the entertainment district, where the Vees residence was located, was a small part of the pride ring where the older architecture still stood. The sinners who lived there were usually the ones who had stayed in hell the longest, many of whom had lived during the 18th and 19th centuries. There were fewer flashing lights and billboards in this part of town, but that did not mean that the sinners who lived there were anti-technology—for the most part.

That was why you liked living in this part of Pride, being from the early 20th century yourself. There were no loud noises, and during the night, you would, on more occasions than not, get a good night's sleep. Compared to the entertainment district, where no one seemed to sleep ever.

Your PR firm was located on the top floor of an old Gothic Revival building in the centre of this district. With its intricate stone details and towering spires, the building could feel almost cluttered and overwhelming on the outside. However, the rooms were spacious and elegant, with large stained-glass windows that cast colourful lights throughout the building.

You loved your office building and its moody exterior and interior. It made you feel like a character in one of the gothic novels that you had only learned to appreciate after your death. You could also argue that the whole thing had been influenced by the fact that when you had died and woken up in hell, your soul had taken the form of a bat. Reminding you of the book Dracula that your mother had loved so much, but that was irrelevant.

Walking around dusty old stone buildings, surrounding yourself with heavy wooden furniture and thick dark fabrics worked much better with the wings, big pointy ears, claws, and razor-sharp teeth you had now.

You had tried in the beginning to surround yourself with things that reminded you of the time you had been alive, but as time ticked on and the years went by, you could not help but leave most of the 20s and 30s behind and welcome the new ages, and all their inventions and quirks, with somewhat open arms. Your youngest assistant, a young sinner named Claudine, who died at the age of 25 in 2015, talked a lot about how similar social media in hell was to when she was alive, but considering the things she liked to show you, social media was one of the inventions you did not have any interests in. Your people could handle it for you instead, and if the three overlords that had strolled into your office like they owned the building were running the biggest tech and social media company in pride, you would happily leave that responsibility to Claudine.

Vox, Velvet, and Valentino were indeed a sight to behold. A poor sight for you. Their fashion and colourful clothing clashed horribly with your moss-green couch.

It was always a satisfying experience to observe new customers arrive at your office. However, this time, you could not help but wish they would just leave.

You put down the silver tray you held, with all the teacups and the teapot, on your mahogany coffee table and sat in the armchair on the opposite side of the sofa. Slowly, you started to pour the tea from the pot into the small and thin teacups before handing the first to Velvet.

"Suger?" you asked, opening the lid to the sugar bowl.

"Yes, please," she said, putting two sugar cubes in her tea. The smaller sinner grabbed one of the tiny spoons before she started to stir her tea, making the spoon hit the side of the teacup. The clinking sound seemed to bounce around the room endlessly. She may not have the most refined manners, according to you, but you suspected that she was the one who had wanted to see you in the first place since she was the one who was behaving the best.

"I must say, I was quite surprised when my assistant said that the Vees were waiting in my office." You took one sip of your tea that had one sugar cube and a dash of milk in it. "It is not often that I get these types of unplanned visits unless someone is in dire need of their reputation being saved, and last time I checked, you three had your own PR team."

"We are here because we are interested in your more niche skill sets."

Now, that was far more interesting. You had a sense that the Vees were not here for what your company offered on the outside but more for what you could provide that was strictly off the records.

You looked over at Vox, who had spoken. Waiting for him to continue.

It did not take the sinner long to tell you their plan and why they had decided to contact you specifically. Hell was filled with sinners and demons who said they specialised in espionage or assassinations, and although they could get the job done, more often than not, these "professionals" would leave long traces of evidence behind, which didn't matter in the end since hell did not have any justice system to speak of, but if you wanted to be undetected, it wasn't the best solution. However, you took your job seriously and worked with the utmost discretion, which led to you now holding almost the same amount of power as any overlord in pride. The big difference between you and the other overlords was that your capabilities were mostly unknown, and that's how you wanted it. It made it easier for you to work in the shadows. To hunt and kill without anyone knowing they were being hunted.

Only two overlords, Carmilla Carmine and Zestial, knew of your strengths and often hired you to deal with others they did not have time for or wanted to make time for. Yet, if the Vees knew about this side of your work, that meant the information about your skill sets was being spread around a bit more frequently than you wanted it. But that didn't worry you too much since you could always have Claudine and Earl fix it in just a few days.

"That is not a small task you have asked of me. To take down another demon is one thing, but to take down an overlord? Who also works for the princess? Now, why would I ever do that?"

"We're not asking you to take down the princess. Only Alastor," said Velvet, putting a hand on Vox's arm. The man had started leaning forward unconsciously, his fists closing up with every second.

Alastor. There was no man on earth or in hell that you hated more, and you would gladly watch him bleed to death, forgotten and alone in the forest again. After all, he had killed your brother, so it was only fair that you had killed him in return. But things had changed. He now possessed a form of power that you had never seen in another sinner in all your years in hell, and it made you pause. You knew that as soon as he found out what you had done, he would avenge his death, and you were not sure that you would survive that. So you stayed in the shadows, bidding your time.

"Either way, we are not asking you to take him down alone. We want you to ensure no deal is struck between that radio freak and the princess. Find his weaknesses and help us take him down." Vox had the sort of manic look about him that you only saw in souls who were consumed by their obsessions, making him unreliable and reckless. But a deal like this did not come to you often, the type of deal that made you believe that you could kill Alastor again, and you never looked a gift horse in the mouth.

"Very well, I will help you, but it will cost you. Five hundred souls."

"Dea-"

You did not let Vox finish before saying, "Each."

"Each? Bitch, are you out of your mind?" roared Valentino, who had been quiet up till now. Even if the other Vees did not start shouting like the moth daemon, they were equally shocked and angered by your demand.

"My prices have always been high. Take it or leave it." You looked over at Vox, staring him down. You knew he would be the first to crack and agree to your demands. Velvet may have been the driving force that had led the Vees to your office, but she was still too rational and would start to bargain with you. Vox would sooner or later let his obsession win, making him agree to your deal.

"Do we have a deal?" You reached out your hand to Vox, trying to corner him and push him into a contract with you.

Before Velvet or Valentino had the chance to stop him, Vox shot forward and took your hand, and as he uttered the words that would sign their contract, an eerie green light filled the room. Cracks travelled up the walls all around you as the howling of hunting dogs travelled with the wind that started to blow in the office. Large shadows of the hunting dogs began to grow on the walls, their red eyes fixing the Vees in their places and right as the dogs would pause and devour the sinners on your sofa, the green light dissolved, and all that was left was the four of you in your office.

"Always a pleasure doing business with new customers," you chuckled, letting your sinister smile dance on your lips.

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