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julietsf1 · 2 days ago

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Factory Reset - Franco Colapinto x Engineer!Reader

summary: After a major crash, Franco Colapinto is sent to the Williams factory to work alongside the engineers repairing his car. Tensions run high as he’s forced to confront the realities of their work and the sharp wit of performance engineer Y/N. What begins as a clash of worlds becomes an eye-opening experience for both. (6k words)

content: overconfident Franco; smart but salty Y/N; 3rd person POV; written by someone who doesn't know much about engineering lol it's the vibes that count innit

an: Sorry for disappearing cuties! I had some unexpected work obligations but will be uploading all my WIPs today! thanks for sticking around <3

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The tension in the Williams Racing debrief room was almost as palpable as the screeching halt Franco Colapinto’s car had come to in Las Vegas. The crash had been spectacularly disastrous, with debris scattered across the strip like confetti. And now, here he was, summoned not to a glamorous event or strategy meeting but to a mandatory visit to the Williams factory in Grove. Franco couldn’t remember the last time he felt this much dread walking into a building.

James Vowles stood at the head of the room, his usual calm demeanor carrying an edge of authority that demanded attention.

“We’re implementing a new initiative,” James began, his sharp eyes darting between Franco and the engineers gathered. “To strengthen team spirit and accountability. After a crash like the one in Vegas and our previous years with many crashes, it’s crucial to recognize that Formula 1 isn’t just about what happens on track. It’s also about the people who make it all possible behind the scenes.”

Franco leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. He wasn’t a fan of the lecture tone, but he wasn’t about to interrupt.

“This initiative,” James continued, “involves drivers spending time at the factory. Working alongside the team. Seeing firsthand the hours, the sweat, and the dedication it takes to repair the damages—damages that fall under the cost cap.”

There it was. The thinly veiled jab. Franco sat up straighter, his jaw tightening.

“I’m sure we all agree,” James said with a smile that wasn’t entirely warm, “this will benefit everyone. Franco, you’ll spend the next three days with us here in Grove.”

The engineers in the room exchanged glances. Some smirked, others looked indifferent, but one person in particular didn’t even bother to mask her displeasure. Y/N, one of the team’s senior performance engineers, leaned back in her chair, arms folded, with an expression that screamed, “Of course it’s him.”

Franco noticed her immediately. He’d seen her around the garage before but had never exchanged more than a brief nod. Now, as her steely eyes bore into him, he felt the weight of the animosity she clearly didn’t bother to hide.

“Any questions?” James asked, breaking the silence.

Franco raised a hand half-heartedly. “Yeah. What exactly am I supposed to do for three days?”

James smiled, his tone sharper than the words themselves. “Learn.”

…

The hum of machinery filled the Williams factory, a symphony of clanging metal, whirring drills, and distant chatter. Franco stood awkwardly at the edge of the main floor, dressed in a team-issued polo and jeans, feeling painfully out of place. Engineers bustled past him with purpose, pushing carts laden with parts or gesturing at detailed schematics. Everyone seemed to know where they were going—everyone but him.

Y/N emerged from a row of workstations, a tablet tucked under her arm and a look of mild irritation on her face. Her presence was commanding, despite her relatively small stature among the towering racks and machinery. When she spotted Franco, her expression tightened further, as if this entire ordeal was a personal inconvenience.

“Right,” she said, stopping in front of him. “Let’s get this over with.”

Franco raised an eyebrow. “Wow. You really know how to make a guy feel welcome.”

Y/N didn’t bite. Instead, she thrust the tablet toward him. “Here’s your schedule for the day. You’ll shadow me for the morning. Try to keep up.”

“Keep up?” Franco smirked, taking the tablet. “I’m an F1 driver. I think I can manage.”

She didn’t even look back as she turned on her heel. “We’ll see.”

The morning was a whirlwind of tasks that Franco barely understood. Y/N walked him through the telemetry department, where engineers analyzed data from his car. The lead analyst, a middle-aged man named Paul, greeted Y/N warmly but barely spared Franco a glance.

“So this is the data from Vegas,” Y/N said, pulling up a graph on one of the monitors. “See these spikes here? That’s where you oversteered.”

Franco squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of the jagged lines. “Okay, but in my defense, the rear was completeshit by that point.”

Y/N shot him a sharp look. “In your defense? Do you know how much work it took to rebuild the floor after that?”

Paul cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the tension. “It’s not all bad,” he interjected. “We did get some valuable data—”

“Valuable data doesn’t fix a wrecked car,” Y/N cut him off, her eyes still on Franco. “Next time, maybe don’t treat the car like it’s disposable.”

Franco clenched his jaw. He was used to criticism from team principals or the media, but this felt different—more personal. “I don’t crash on purpose, you know,” he muttered.

Y/N turned back to the screen. “Could’ve fooled me.”

The tour continued through the machine shop, where technicians were crafting replacement parts, and the aerodynamics lab, where wind tunnel models were being adjusted. Franco noticed that while most people greeted Y/N with respect, their reactions to him ranged from polite nods to outright indifference.

By the time they reached the assembly area, Franco was bristling with frustration. “Is everyone here always this friendly, or is it just me?”

Y/N glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “They’re busy. Unlike you, they don’t have time to play the victim.”

Franco stopped walking, forcing her to turn around. “What’s your problem with me?”

“My problem?” Y/N folded her arms, her voice low but pointed. “You think this team exists to make you look good on Sundays. But for us, this is our life. Every crash, every mistake, it’s hours of extra work. Late nights. Missed weekends. Let alone you blaming it all on the car every time. So yeah, excuse me if I’m not rolling out the red carpet for you.”

Franco opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words. Instead, he fell silent and followed her as she led him to the next department.

The afternoon brought more hands-on tasks. Y/N handed Franco a wrench and pointed to a disassembled gearbox. “Think you can manage this?”

“Depends,” Franco said, inspecting the gearbox. “What’s the record time for putting one of these together?”

“This isn’t a race,” Y/N snapped, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes.

Franco worked diligently, occasionally asking questions that Y/N grudgingly answered. By the end of the day, the gearbox was reassembled, and Franco felt a small sense of accomplishment—though Y/N didn’t offer any praise.

As they packed up, Franco noticed her pause by one of the workbenches, her expression softening as she examined a photo taped to the wall. It showed a younger Y/N during her internship at McLaren, laughing with Daniel Ricciardo and Lando Norris.

“You worked at McLaren?” Franco asked, genuinely curious.

Y/N nodded without looking at him. “Internship during uni. Best year of my life.”

“Let me guess,” Franco said. “You were one of Danny Ric’s ‘shoey’ victims?”

Y/N laughed, a sound that surprised them both. “Only once. But it was worth it.”

For a moment, the tension between them eased. Then Y/N’s phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen. “Back to reality. See you tomorrow, Colapinto.”

As she walked away, Franco found himself smiling despite himself.

…

The second day at the Williams factory was already shaping up to be a long one. Franco arrived earlier than expected, determined not to let Y/N accuse him of slacking off. The factory came alive with distant murmur of conversations slowly filling the space. He leaned against the telemetry lab doorframe, holding a cup of coffee that smelled like it had been brewed by an engineer experimenting with car oil, waiting for Y/N to show up.

When she finally appeared, cradling a steaming cup of tea and glancing down at her tablet, Franco couldn’t help himself. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

Y/N looked up, unimpressed. “You’re early. Trying to win points or just lost?”

“Maybe I just enjoy our morning chats,” Franco replied, grinning over the rim of his coffee cup. “Your warmth really sets the tone for the day.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of amusement behind her usual sharpness. “If sarcasm counts as effort, you’re doing great.”

The morning routine started where the conversation with Paul had left off the previous day: telemetry analysis. Franco was seated in the simulator cockpit while Y/N pulled up detailed graphs of his Vegas laps, pointing out each mistake with the precision of a scalpel.

“See this spike here?” she said, her finger hovering over the screen. “That’s where you decided braking wasn’t necessary.”

“I didn’t decide that,” Franco countered, leaning forward to study the data. “The rear was loose, and I had to adjust—”

“You overcompensated,” Y/N interrupted, highlighting another section. “Instead of making a gradual adjustment, you panicked. A car doesn’t respond well to panic.”

Franco frowned, leaning back in the seat. “I didn’t panic.”

Y/N turned to face him, her gaze piercing. “You’re telling me plowing into the barrier was part of the plan?”

For a moment, Franco stared at her, at a complete loss for words. Then he laughed, the tension easing slightly. “You know, you’d make a great drill sergeant.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said dryly, though the faintest hint of a smirk played on her lips.

By lunchtime, Franco had decided to stop avoiding the canteen drama and instead followed Y/N to her usual table. She sat with a group of engineers, all engaged in animated conversation about the latest updates to the floor design. Franco tried to follow along, but the technical jargon quickly became overwhelming.

“You look lost,” Y/N said, leaning toward him. Her voice was low enough that only he could hear. “Too many big words?”

Franco smirked, stealing a chip from her tray. “Just biding my time. Waiting for you to talk about something interesting.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop him from taking another chip. “Bold move.”

“I can be bold,” he said, popping the chip into his mouth.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward, betraying her amusement.

…

At four o’clock sharp Y/N stood by the sideline of the nearby paddle court, tapping her racket against her leg and scanning the group of engineers gathering for the weekly game. It was her favorite way to let off steam after a long week - competitive enough to keep her engaged but lighthearted enough to remind her that work wasn’t everything.

“Where’s Ethan?” someone asked, voicing the question on her mind.

Y/N’s usual partner was nowhere to be seen. A quick check of her phone confirmed it: Ethan had bailed last-minute with a text about a migraine and a sincere promise to make it up to her next week.

“Great,” Y/N muttered under her breath. Without a partner, she’d be sitting this one out.

“Problem?” Franco’s voice cut through the crowd, his grin as smug as ever as he leaned against the court’s railing.

Y/N turned to him, crossing her arms. “Ethan flaked. No partner, no game.”

“Shame,” Franco said, though he didn’t sound particularly sorry. “Guess you’ll just have to cheer from the sidelines.”

Y/N glared at him, but before she could retort, he held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Or,” he continued, “I could step in. You know, save the day.”

She snorted, looking him up and down. “You? Save my day?”

“Hey,” Franco said, grabbing a spare paddle from the bench. “I’m more coordinated than I look.”

“That’s a low bar,” Y/N shot back, but her lips twitched as if suppressing a smile.

“You need a partner,” Franco said, spinning the paddle in his hand. “I’m offering. Unless you’re too scared I’ll outplay you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the thought of sitting out was more annoying than the idea of teaming up with him. “Fine,” she said, pointing at him with her paddle. “But if you screw this up, I’m never letting you live it down.”

The first few minutes were rocky. Franco’s confidence far outstripped his paddle skills, and Y/N found herself darting across the court to cover his missed volleys.

“Are you actually trying?” she called after him when he completely whiffed a return.

“Relax,” Franco said, jogging back to his position. “I’m just warming up.”

“You better warm up fast, I have a competition ranking to keep up,” she snapped, returning a wicked shot from their opponents.

But to her surprise, Franco adjusted quickly. His natural athleticism took over, and soon he was diving for impossible shots and landing them with a flourish that almost made Y/N forget his rough start.

“Not bad,” she admitted after he scored their first point with a sharp return.

“Not bad?” Franco said, feigning offense. “That was textbook genius.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” Y/N said, though she couldn’t help the grin that tugged at her lips.

As the match progressed, Y/N found herself enjoying their unlikely partnership. Franco’s energy was infectious, and his relentless determination to win made her laugh more than once.

“Nice shot!” he shouted after one of her perfectly placed lobs.

“Thanks,” she replied, her voice tinged with mock sweetness. “Try not to ruin it.”

“I’m carrying this team,” Franco said, panting as he prepared for the next serve.

“Only thing you’re carrying is that big head of yours,” Y/N muttered, but the teasing tone softened her words.

At some point, a stray ball sailed out of the court, bouncing into the parking lot. Franco volunteered to fetch it, jogging off while Y/N leaned against the net to catch her breath.

James Vowles strolled over from the sidelines, hands in his pockets and a wide smile on his face.

“Not bad out there,” James said, nodding toward the court. “You’ve got Franco moving, at least.”

Y/N laughed, brushing a stray hair from her face. “He’s not as useless as I thought. Still reckless, though.”

James chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “You know, it’s good to see him having fun. It’s been a rough season—rookie pressure and all that. Moments like this are rare for him.”

Y/N glanced toward Franco, who was bent over retrieving the ball. His usual bravado seemed lighter today, less forced. She’d never thought about how intense the pressure must be for him.

“He hides it well,” Y/N said softly.

James nodded, still smiling. “He does. Sometimes I forget how young he still is.”

When Franco jogged back onto the court, tossing the ball into the air with a cocky grin, Y/N felt a twinge of sympathy she hadn’t expected.

“Ready?” Franco called, positioning himself for the next serve.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Y/N replied, her voice softer than before.

Franco’s serve caught her off guard. It was precise and powerful, skimming the net and clipping the edge of the line.

“Nice serve,” Y/N said, the words escaping before she could think better of them.

Franco froze mid-smile. “Did you just compliment me?”

“Don’t get used to it,” she said quickly, but there was a faint blush on her cheeks.

The rest of the match passed in a blur of fast volleys and laughter. Y/N found herself encouraging Franco more often, and he responded by playing even better, his confidence growing with every point.

By the time they won—21 to 17—they were both breathless and grinning.

“Good game,” Franco said, holding out his hand.

Y/N shook it, her grip firm. “Not terrible.”

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as glowing praise,” Franco said, his grin widening.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said, though her tone was more teasing than cutting.

As the match wrapped up and the court cleared, Y/N crouched down to zip her bag, her mind still buzzing with the game’s energy. She couldn’t help but replay the last few points in her head—the unexpected precision of Franco’s serve, the way he’d thrown himself into every volley, and, perhaps most surprising, how well they’d worked together. It wasn’t something she’d anticipated when she grudgingly let him join her earlier.

Franco, standing a few feet away, adjusted the strap of his bag and hesitated. He glanced at Y/N, his usual cocky grin nowhere in sight. Instead, his expression was softer, more sincere, as though he was wrestling with what to say.

“Thanks for letting me play,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. It wasn’t just a throwaway comment—it carried a weight Y/N hadn’t expected.

She paused, straightening up and meeting his gaze. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond. Franco wasn’t looking at her with his usual smirk or playful glint. There was something vulnerable in his eyes, something she hadn’t seen before. Gratitude, maybe, or relief.

I should be thanking you,” she said simply, her tone gentler than usual.

Franco blinked, as though her words had surprised him, and for the first time since he’d arrived at the factory, he looked almost shy. He nodded, slinging his bag over his shoulder and stepping closer.

“Seriously,” he added, his voice a little firmer now. “I needed that. It’s been… a lot lately. You didn’t have to let me join, but you did. So, thanks.”

Y/N studied him, her sharp instincts catching the subtle way his shoulders relaxed, the way he shifted his weight like he wasn’t used to opening up. This wasn’t the brash rookie who crashed cars and cracked jokes at every opportunity. This was someone who carried more than he let on—someone who, despite his flaws, was trying.

Her reply came almost automatically, her voice softer than she expected. “Well, don’t let it go to your head.”

But there was no edge to her words this time, no undercurrent of sarcasm. It was the kind of teasing that felt less like a wall and more like an olive branch.

For the first time, she didn’t see him as just the reckless rookie who kept wrecking her hard work. He was something more—someone navigating a high-pressure world, someone trying to find his place just like everyone else. And, Y/N realized, he wasn’t half-bad at it when he let himself breathe.

Franco smiled—an easy, genuine smile that lit up his face in a way that was, dare she admit it, a little endearing. “Careful,” he said, his tone regaining its usual playfulness. “Keep this up, and I might start thinking you like me.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” she shot back, though her lips twitched into a faint smile of their own.

As they walked out of the court together, their banter trailing into the evening air, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted. Maybe, just maybe, Franco Colapinto wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.

…

The hum of the factory felt louder than usual the next morning, or maybe it was just the lingering buzz from the paddle game. Y/N sat at her workstation, staring at the detailed telemetry graphs on her screen but not entirely focused on them. She couldn’t stop thinking about Franco—not in the way she was used to, with irritation bubbling under the surface, but something else. Something softer.

“Morning,” a familiar voice called, jolting her out of her thoughts.

Franco leaned against the edge of her desk, his trademark grin firmly in place. He was holding a cup of coffee—factory brew, by the looks of it—and looked annoyingly chipper for someone who had spent the previous day sprinting across a court.

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow but unable to keep the amusement out of her tone.

“Probably,” Franco replied, setting the coffee down on her desk. “But I figured I’d start with you.”

Y/N eyed the cup suspiciously. “What’s this?”

“Peace offering,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Figured I owed you for carrying me in paddle yesterday.”

Y/N snorted, picking up the cup. “You’re lucky I like caffeine.” She took a cautious sip, then looked up at him. “Still terrible coffee, though.”

“Hey, I tried,” Franco said, raising his hands in mock surrender.

The morning flew by in a blur of meetings and simulations. Franco had started shadowing her more closely, asking questions that, to her surprise, weren’t entirely stupid.

“So, this graph,” Franco said, leaning over her shoulder as she pulled up data from one of the wind tunnel tests. “What does this spike mean?”

“It means the airflow over the rear wing is separating,” Y/N explained, highlighting the section with my cursor. “See this spike? That’s where the turbulence is disrupting the downforce. Less downforce means less grip, especially through the high-speed corners.”

Franco leaned in, squinting at the data. “So that’s why we were losing time through Sector 2 at Interlagos—the Esses and that long left-hander?”

Y/N glanced at him, impressed despite herself. “Exactly. Nice to see you’ve been paying attention for once.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Franco said, grinning.

Their banter flowed more easily now, the sharp edges of their earlier exchanges softened into something almost friendly. Almost.

During their mid-morning coffee break, Y/N found herself sitting with Franco at one of the smaller tables near the canteen window. She usually avoided these moments, preferring to spend her breaks with other engineers or, more often, alone. But today, she didn’t mind the company.

“So,” Franco said, leaning back in his chair. “How’d you end up here, anyway?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Here, as in Williams? Or here, as in motorsport?”

“Motorsport,” Franco clarified, taking a sip of his coffee. “You don’t exactly seem like the type to spend your weekends watching races.”

Y/N chuckled. “You’d be right about that. My dad was obsessed with cars, though. Used to take me to karting tracks when I was a kid. At first, I hated it—too loud, too smelly. But then I started paying attention to the mechanics, how everything fit together. It just… made sense.”

Franco tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “And that led you here?”

“Eventually,” Y/N said, shrugging. “I studied engineering, did an internship with McLaren during uni. That’s when I realized this wasn’t just some childhood fascination. It was what I wanted to do.”

Franco nodded, his voice quieter now. “Well, you’re really good at it. I hope you know that.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity. “Thanks, Franco,” she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

The afternoon was hectic. With the car rebuild still behind schedule, the factory floor buzzed with a sense of urgency. Y/N was stationed at one of the workbenches, assembling a new rear suspension with a few other engineers, when Franco wandered over.

“Need a hand?” he asked, pulling up a stool beside her.

“Can you tell the difference between a torque wrench and a spanner?” Y/N asked without looking up.

“Not yet,” Franco admitted, resting his chin on his hand. “But I’m a fast learner.”

Y/N sighed but handed him a tool anyway. “Fine. Hold this. And don’t drop it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Franco said, mimicking a salute.

Despite her initial reservations, Y/N found herself enjoying his presence. He asked questions, paid attention to her answers, and even managed to make her laugh a few times. By the end of the day, she was surprised at how much they’d gotten done—and how much lighter the workload had felt with him around.

As the factory began to wind down for the evening, Y/N was packing up her tools when Franco appeared beside her, hands in his pockets and a lopsided smile on his face.

“Busy tomorrow?” he asked.

“Probably,” Y/N replied, zipping up her bag. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” Franco said, his tone casual. “Figured I should plan my day around annoying you as much as possible.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face. “Good luck with that.”

As they walked out of the factory together, the air between them felt lighter, less charged with the tension that had defined their earlier interactions. For the first time, Y/N found herself looking forward to the next day—not just for the work, but for the company.

…

The pub was crowded, buzzing with the energy of Williams team members finally letting loose after a grueling week. Laughter echoed off the wooden beams, glasses clinked, and the occasional burst of cheering from the engineers at the dartboard carried through the room. Franco sat at a high table with James Vowles and a handful of other engineers, a pint of beer in front of him, untouched.

“So there I was,” one of the engineers was saying, his hands gesturing wildly, “under the car, trying to weld the damn thing back together while the rear wing’s hanging on by duct tape—”

James chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like just another Tuesday.”

Franco forced a smile, but his mind was elsewhere. He could still hear the faint hum of the factory in his head, see the way Y/N’s brow furrowed as she focused on her work. He had no doubt she was still there, surrounded by telemetry data and spreadsheets, hunched over some impossible task to get the car ready for Qatar.

“Franco!” James called, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You’re quiet tonight. That’s not like you.”

Franco shrugged, lifting his pint and taking a sip just to appease him. “Just tired.”

James tilted his head, studying him with a faint smile. “You’ve been spending too much time in the factory. It’ll do that to you.”

“It’s not so bad,” Franco said, setting his glass down. “The coffee is shit though.”

James’s smile grew, but he didn’t press further. Another round of laughter from the group filled the silence, but Franco found himself restless. He glanced at the time on his phone and then at the door.

“Back in a bit,” he said abruptly, grabbing his jacket.

“Running off already?” James teased, but Franco didn’t answer. He was already weaving his way through the crowd, his mind made up.

The factory was eerily quiet when Franco returned, the once-bustling floor now deserted save for the faint hum of machinery. The lights were dimmed, casting long shadows across the empty workstations. He made his way to the telemetry department, navigating the maze of desks and monitors like he belonged there - which, after the past few days, he almost did.

He found her exactly where he expected: sitting at her workstation, her face illuminated by the glow of her screen. Her hair was slightly mussed, one hand absently running through it as she scrolled through what looked like another mountain of data. There was an empty coffee cup on her desk, and a faint crease on her forehead betrayed her exhaustion.

Franco paused, watching her for a moment. She looked so focused, so determined, and it struck him how much effort she poured into her work. Not just effort – her whole heart.

He cleared his throat softly, not wanting to startle her too much. She glanced up, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw him standing there.

“Franco?” she said, setting her stylus down. “What are you doing here? I thought you were at the pub.”

“I was,” he admitted, holding up two brown takeout bags. “But it was boring without someone yelling at me every five minutes.”

Y/N blinked, clearly caught off guard. “And you brought… food?”

“Figured you’d still be here,” he said, stepping closer and setting the bags down on the edge of her desk. “You’ve probably been here all night, haven’t you?”

“I’ve got work to do,” she replied, as though that explained everything.

“Yeah, and you’ve also got to eat,” Franco said, pulling up a chair and sitting down beside her. “So I’m here to make sure you don’t keel over from starvation. You’re welcome, by the way.”

She stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, to his surprise, she let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously thoughtful,” Franco corrected, grinning.

They unpacked the food, and Y/N couldn’t help but appreciate the gesture despite herself. The noodles were still warm, the comforting aroma filling the small space around them. She took a bite, her stomach growling in approval.

“This is surprisingly good,” she admitted, glancing at him.

“You’re welcome,” Franco said, digging into his own container.

For a while, they ate in comfortable silence, the tension between them replaced by an unexpected ease. Franco leaned back in his chair, watching her with a curious expression.

“You really don’t stop, do you?” he asked, nodding toward her screen.

Y/N shrugged, setting her chopsticks down for a moment. “Deadlines don’t stop. Someone has to keep the car running.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “Why do you do it?”

The question caught her off guard. She hesitated, then sighed. “Because it matters. It’s not just about the car—it’s about the people. Everyone here gives their all to make sure we succeed, and I don’t want to let them down.”

Franco nodded slowly, his gaze steady. “You’re really one of a kind, you know.”

Y/N blinked, startled by the sincerity in his voice. “Thanks,” she said softly.

“Seriously,” he added, his voice quieter now. “It’s incredible what you do here.”

She smiled, a faint blush creeping into her cheeks. “It’s not glamorous, but it’s worth it.”

As the meal wound down, Y/N turned back to her screen, scrolling through the data she’d been working on before Franco arrived. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, but her mind wasn’t entirely on the numbers. She could feel him beside her, his presence surprisingly steady and not as intrusive as she would’ve thought a few days ago.

Franco, meanwhile, hadn’t moved. Instead, he pulled his chair closer, resting his elbows on the edge of the desk as he watched her work. The soft glow of the monitor lit her face, highlighting the faint creases on her forehead and the small, almost invisible smudge of grease on her temple.

“You really don’t stop,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Not when there’s this much to do,” she replied without looking at him.

“Still,” he said, his tone quieter now. “You’re doing all of this, late into the night, and you’re not even asking for help.”

Y/N glanced at him, her brows furrowing. “Because there’s no point. If I want it done right, I might as well do it myself.”

Franco tilted his head, his gaze unwavering. “That’s not true. You just don’t let people try.”

Her hands stilled over the keyboard, his words striking deeper than she expected. She turned to him fully, her lips parting as if to argue, but the look in his eyes stopped her. There was no teasing, no arrogance - just genuine concern.

“You don’t have to carry all of it alone,” he said softly.

Her breath hitched, the words lodging themselves in her chest. For a moment, all she could do was stare at him, her mind racing. He was so close now, close enough that she could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the tiredness in his green eyes, and the way his shoulders seemed more relaxed than usual.

“Do you need help?” he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

She blinked, his question pulling her back into the moment. “You? Help with this?”

“I’m serious,” Franco said, his grin reappearing, though it was softer now. “I’m good at following orders. Well, sometimes.”

She smiled faintly, shaking her head. “I appreciate it but highly doubt you’d be any use here.”

“Try me,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his tone playful but laced with something deeper.

Y/N opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, his hand moved toward her. He reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against her temple as he gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The touch was light, barely there, but it sent a jolt through her all the same.

Her breath caught, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. His hand lingered near her face, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. The usual sharp retorts and witty comebacks she relied on were suddenly out of reach, replaced by a charged silence that felt heavier with each passing second.

“Franco…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Just tell me what you need,” he murmured, his tone steady but impossibly soft.

Her heart pounded, her chest tight with a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite name. The walls she’d kept firmly in place all week seemed to crack, piece by piece, under the weight of his gaze.

And then, before she could second-guess herself, she leaned in.

The kiss was slow at first, almost hesitant, her lips brushing against his in a way that felt more like a question than a statement. But the moment his hand came up to cup her jaw, his fingers warm against her skin, the hesitation melted away. She tilted her head, her hands instinctively gripping the front of his jacket to pull him closer.

Franco responded in kind, his lips moving against hers with a surprising gentleness that caught her off guard. There was no urgency, no rush - just a quiet intensity that left her breathless. The air between them crackled with the kind of tension that had been building for days, unspoken and simmering just beneath the surface.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, her breath coming in uneven bursts. Franco was staring at her, his expression a mix of awe and disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

“Well,” he said after a moment, his voice huskier than usual. “If I knew takeout was all it took—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice firm but laced with amusement.

A grin spread across his face, the kind that made his green eyes crinkle at the corners. “Noted.”

Y/N shook her head, but there was no hiding the smile tugging at her lips. She turned back to her screen, though the work in front of her suddenly felt far less urgent. The weight of the week wasn’t gone, but it had shifted, lightened in a way she hadn’t thought possible just hours ago.

Beside her, Franco leaned back in his chair, his presence steady and unassuming. For the first time, Y/N didn’t mind him being there—not in the slightest.

…

The Williams garage in Qatar buzzed with the familiar energy of a race weekend. Mechanics hurried from here to there, engineers huddled around monitors, and the drivers moved through their routines with laser focus. But amidst the usual chaos, Y/N felt strangely at ease - a rare calm she hadn’t experienced in years of working in motorsport.

She stood near the garage entrance, tablet in hand, scrolling through last-minute setup notes for the car. It was a crisp, clear evening, and the desert air carried a cool breeze that contrasted with the heat of the track.

“Looking for me?”

Y/N didn’t even have to turn around. Franco’s voice, smug but undeniably warm, was unmistakable.

“You wish,” she replied without missing a beat, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Franco stepped into her peripheral vision, his race suit unzipped and hanging around his waist. His green eyes sparkled under the fluorescent paddock lights. “Well, if you weren’t, I’m a little disappointed.”

She finally looked up, tilting her head. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on the race? You know, doing the thing we all worked so hard to make possible?”

“I am focused,” he said, leaning casually against the wall. “Just… multitasking. Driver prep and talking with my favorite engineer - it’s all about balance.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though her smile didn’t fade. “If you’re trying to charm me, it’s not working.”

“Who says I’m trying?” Franco countered, his grin widening.

Y/N shook her head, turning back to her tablet. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah,” Franco said, his voice softer now, “but you kind of like that about me.”

Y/N snorted softly, pretending to focus on the setup notes. “Delusional as ever.”

Franco leaned in closer, his voice dropping slightly. “Call it what you want, but I think I’m growing on you.”

She tilted her head, arching a brow. “More like you’re wearing me down.”

“Same thing,” he said with a grin, stepping back slightly but not leaving.

“You ready for this?” she asked, breaking the silence.

Franco shrugged, his grin softening into something more earnest. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

She studied him for a beat, noting the slight tension in his posture and the way his fingers tapped lightly against his thigh. Beneath the bravado, there was a trace of nerves—small, but there.

“Hey,” she said, lowering her tablet and meeting his gaze. “You’ll be fine. You’ve got this.”

Franco’s eyes softened, and for a moment, his usual smirk faded. “Coming from you, that actually means a lot.”

“Good,” Y/N said simply, her lips curving into a small smile.

The sound of an engine roaring to life in the garage snapped them both back to reality. Franco straightened, tugging at the collar of his race suit and exhaling deeply.

“Guess that’s my cue,” he said, his voice softer this time, though there was still a faint smile playing on his lips.

Y/N didn’t look up from her tablet, her fingers flying over the screen as she reviewed another set of setup notes. “Good. Try to avoid the barriers, would you?”

Franco chuckled quietly, stepping closer until he was just beside her. “You always know how to motivate me, don’t you?”

She finally glanced up, tilting her head. “Do you really need a speech? The car’s ready, the data’s solid, and you’re…” She paused, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’re as ready as you’ll ever be.”

“That almost sounded supportive,” Franco said, his grin warming.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Y/N replied, shaking her head lightly before looking back at her screen.

Franco lingered, his hands resting lightly on the edge of her desk. “You know, you could just wish me good luck. It’d be nice to hear.”

Y/N sighed theatrically but set her tablet down, looking up at him again. “Fine. Good luck, Franco. Now go make it count.”

His smile softened, and for a moment, he seemed to hesitate. Then, with a quick glance toward the bustling garage behind them, he leaned down and kissed her—a quick, warm kiss that caught her completely off guard.

From across the garage, a few engineers burst into laughter and cheers. “Woo, Colapinto!” someone shouted, and another voice chimed in, “About time!”

Y/N’s face flushed instantly as she pulled back, her eyes wide. “Franco—”

“Hey, they said it, not me,” Franco said with a small laugh, holding his hands up as if to plead innocence. But his voice had softened even more now, his gaze lingering on her with something closer to gratitude. “You look cute with those red cheeks.”

She blinked, her blush deepening, but she managed to recover quickly enough. “You’re lucky I have work to do, or I’d make you regret that.”

“You’ll miss me out there,” he teased gently, stepping back toward the car. He turned just before climbing in, his grin more genuine now. “I’ll make sure your hard work shines.”

Y/N shook her head, picking up her tablet again to distract herself from the lingering warmth on her cheeks. As the car rolled out of the garage, she caught herself smiling - just for a moment - before diving back into her work.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath, though there was no mistaking the fondness in her tone.

#f1 x reader #fc43 x reader #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #f1 fanfic #formula one

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gachagon · 1 day ago

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Concerning your theory on Desmond protecting Eloise and knowing her from before the killing game, I think I found something that could be used as evidence for that.

During his introduction in chapter 0, Desmond phrases the fact he never killed anybody in a specific manner : he says

"I only practice on stationary targets. Moving targets are really outside my comfort zone. Believe me, I've never taken a human life."

He never denies having shot somebody, he only says that he never killed someone, and that he doesn't like moving targets.

That seems to be in accord with the theory that Desmond is protecting somebody from before the killing game, as a bodyguard might not have to do any murdering, simply incapacitating any threats.

As for who he protects, I think the scene where Desmond bring attention to the broken locks.

Eloise is quick to understand what Desmond is doing, defending his decision in front of everyone, saying

"I think I get what he's trying to say. You just want to everyone to be honest with each other... so we can cover all our bases... right?"

afterward, Eloise reacts to both Toshiko attempts to choose herself the pairs, and to Ingrid saying they should separate by gender.

While Desmond can keep his calm as it was already established that he was good staying composed, but Eloise, as is shown in her Free time events.

I would also like to hear your opinion on the theory that the organizers of the killing game are previous ultimates. I think we can prove two, and extrapolate two more.

I think Tozu is clearly the ultimate actor, or maybe playwright. He is quite theatrical, and he often makes literary references, from Horace to the bible. He also, in a Inner World (the scenes when Damon sleeps, taking the place of the monokuma theater), he said :

"that's what we in the industry like to call a "cliffhanger"."

Which implies he is from an industry that uses that term, so some form of media.

Mara is most likely an ultimate soldier, or similar, as she uses guns, and dresses similarly to Mukuro.

The two we can extrapolate don't have name, and one doesn't have any known talent.

The one we don't know anything about is the one mentioned in the Inner world about ships. Tozu mentions a "spindly boy with cream-colored hair". I think he is also part of the killing game organizer, even if we know nothing about him, simply because he is described physically.

The second we can extrapolate is the previous ultimate debater. In Wenona's Free time events, we learn that there was an ultimate debater before Damon, who was also more accomplished than him. I think he is part of the killing game organizers mainly because it would fit the theme, as a previous debater but with a more "important" or "real" talent than Damon.

Oh wow I did not think there'd be more evidence to support the idea of Desmond and Eloise being in some form of alliance, but the more clues people bring up the more I'm kind of convinced of it as well. I also noticed that when Desmond said he'd never "killed anyone", he didn't explicitly say he's never actually shot at a moving target, just that he's not that great at it (which I don't believe lol how could you be the Ultimate Marksman if you can't actually hit a moving target?)

However, I think the point in your second theory could have something to do with it. Damon mentions that nowadays the title of Ultimate is just "given to anyone" and has kind of lost it's meaning. And when you think about it, it makes sense when you really examine each character and how they use their talent. Damon is a debater, but he rarely uses it to argue for himself, choosing to instead use it to argue in favor of other people's points.

Eva was the Ultimate Mathlete, but she was clearly good at other things besides math. So if she wanted to, why didn't this Ultimate talent program give her a different title, or one that could encompass all of her actual talents?

Kai is the Ultimate Influencer, but a lot of the people there don't recognize him at all.

Ulysses is the Ultimate Historian but he doesn't even remember everything, and has to write most of it down.

They all are stuck with a talent but either aren't as great at it as you'd expect, or have something holding them back from really excelling in said talent. I wonder if this Killing Game is being put on by truly great Ultimates who lost their titles to the current cast of characters? Imagine you work hard for god knows how long to get recognition, but you lose it all because some kid who's not even that great at it becomes better anyways lol

And from the way Eva described it, being an Ultimate really dictates how people see you in this society. She wrote a lot of papers on other subjects but they were all ignored because "She's the Ultimate Mathlete" and that's all.

#project eden's garden #p:eg spoilers #p:eg chapter 1 #p:eg #eva tsunaka #desmond hall #eloise taulner

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were-my-demons-hide · 1 year ago

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Black skinny jeans and a random plain cuffed shirt is julien baker style for me

#julien baker #boygenius #i love her style #and she said she doesn't know how to dress lol #i am still clinging onto those skinny jeans like she is #not going with the baggy trend haha

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venmondiese · 2 months ago

Text

SUBTLE LOVE, DARING WORDS

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

-ˋˏsummary: Aemond is in no hurry to take a wife, yet once he realizes that he doesn't value what he has until he might lose it, he takes action. (based on THIS request!)

✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!Reader.

✧word count: 3.1k

✧tags: fluff and comfort, aemond is BAD at feelings, reader doesn't really admit anything either, slight? slowburn?, overall fluffy!!, this is really vague about in which year happens, lol

The first time he met you it was in the library.

He had his mind on the whole commotion at court, the tournament which he had refused to entertain, much to his mother's dislike because of his position as a royal. To him, it seems like a foolery, as if he was willing to participate in making himself a fool such as Mushroom.

When he came to the library, intending to search for a book to comfort himself, he found a lady leaning down one of the staircases, where there were lots of books stacked only for maesters, with him as an exception… but not a lady surely, less one that seemed to be looking for something below. He was astonished, for many reasons.

He watched her big, puffy dress, in rich red velvet and gold details. It was definitely a Westerlands style, so he was more confused as to why she was in this part of the library, only for maesters, and… well, him. How did the guards allow her to enter? How did she do it so confidently, as if he couldn’t make her life hell for it?

“Ehem” he scoffs, as if trying to get her away. The least of his worries was having a lady on the forbidden library corner… for now. “Get out. You are in a forbidden part”

“I am aware” your voice comes from down the staircase you had even moved some books! That made him slightly… annoyed. As you move your head out to see the prince above you, and you make a movement with your head as if doing a courtesy. “My prince”

He was not amused, at all. You had green eyes, and the most golden hair he had seen in ages. The small lions on your dress allowed him to know who you were: A Lannister. And he definitely never wanted to deal with any of your kin.

“And I said-”

“My cat is down there” you say, as if he cared.

“Okay. Take it out of here”

“I can’t” you say simply, watching him with a grin. “She seems to be in labour. I didn’t know she was pregnant at all…”

He has many questions, and he frowns at your reasoning. He would take the cat and throw it out himself if he had to.

“It is your cat, just take it away”

“Well, my father gave her to me two weeks ago!” You make a face, almost whining about it. Of course he could know which Lannister is your father. “I didn’t know she was pregnant, and she is still getting used to me. She will scratch me, more if I get closer to her babies”

“A scratch won’t kill you”

“Just sit” you say softly, watching the cat and sitting on the ground to wait. “You can even keep one of the baby cats”

“My grandsire has brought enough cats already” Aemond says, walking to grab some wine for him and the lady. He wasn't impolite to be rude to a lady, much less one with your status and beauty. “They come to my bed when I am sleeping, and I wake up to cats in my chest”

“Well, I think they are cute” You say, taking the cup of wine, thanking him as you sip the wine. “Cats are felines, like lions. So I think having a cat is reasonable, better than a lion”

“Don’t you want one?”

“I have one back at home” you say shrugging, smiling widely. “He is called Brightroar”

Of course you named it like the ancient weapon of Lannisters. “And this one?”

“I wanted to call it Brightroar second, but it turned out to be a she. So she is just called Gemma”

He can’t deny that he is amused, watching you being so nonchalant about it all, as if you owned the world. He raises an eyebrow as he has a slight smirk, as he sits near.

“Gemma” he scoffs. “A very…”

“Lannister name” you say smugly.

“Hm. I was going to say… common, perhaps” he adds.

“You would love for Lannisters to be commoners, my prince. Yet you seem to rely on our gold” you notice, raising one eyebrow. So you weren’t a silly lady, he realises, you had the wits.

“Hmm… Our gold seems a bit excessive, my lady. It is your father who is the head of your house” he reminds you, leaning back on his chair.

You smile softly. He thinks you are Cerelle, probably. Mostly because you know Cerelle was still a kid and never been presented to the royal court.

“Mine or not, I still am more entitled to it.”

“I have a dragon.” He adds, as if this was a debate between you both. He was actually enjoying it. He had totally the wrong impression of you and he… was enjoying it. “The biggest dragon”

“Yeah, and?”

“And I could burn your silly little castle” he shrugs, taking a dip of wine.

“No, you could not”

“I’m pretty sure I can”

“No, actually. I know you haven’t gone out of these four walls and this... city, my prince, but I remind you out of the kindness of my heart: Casterly Rock is literally… a rock”

Aemond rolls his good eye, yet his smirk doesn’t leave his face. As if your cat was forgotten, he keeps on his point.

“As if has stopped a dragon before” Aemond says simply. “Because I am as kind I shall remind you of Harrenhal, perhaps?”

“And I shall remind you that Harrenhal is a castle made of rocks.” She shrugs softly. “Not exactly a rock. Casterly Rock is literally a castle inside a rock.”

“Some parts are out of it”

“Not the part where we keep our gold, not really”

Aemond squints his eye, and you look back at him. You amused him, looking like a defiant cat that got away with their mischief. It was fun to see, and he could hear the wails of your cat. You didn’t seem worried, neither was he. Perhaps that was the circle of life, and you knew your cat would manage.

As you speak of such trivial matters, waiting for your cat to end her labours, he couldn’t help but admire your wits, as much as your beauty. Your velvet gown, of a strong red and some gold details did wonders with your appearance, and your brains only made you brighter.

“What are you doing here?” It was Tyland Lannister, coming with a Maester behind, probably who sneaked your position in a forbidden library. “You know ladies can’t be here”

“Father... My cat is giving birth” You say, frowning as if it was the most obvious thing.

“My prince” Tyland makes a courtesy to him, a bit rigid and tense. You had heard how the prince would often terrorise your father, making him do the silliest things as if that amused him. Your uncle Jason often had a laugh about it.

“I was not aware your daughter was…” Aemond says, turning his gaze to you “All grown up”

He knew about you, but your father talked about you as if you were a babe. You were practically his own age, for what he could tell.

“Yes, my little lion is certainly… grown” Tyland agrees, his hand on your hair as he spoke. “Come on; let’s not bother the prince…”

“It is not a bother” Aemond cuts him, serving himself more wine. “She is rather amusing”

“How dare you-!” You say, offended as you come to your defence.

“Sweetie” Your father tries to calm you, with a tense smile as if telling you to shut up.

“I am not a jester”

“No one said you were” Aemond says, amused as he smirks.

“You are such a…”

“Apologise” your father murmurs.

“But fath-”

“You heard me”

“I am sorry, my prince” You say mockingly, and he smirks, even more amused.

Tyland seemed as if he was about to have a stroke, because he had enough things on his plate, and he didn’t need the prince making his life at the small council harder.

Aemond sees Gemma, bringing her cats to show you how they were, all of them bloody, and squirmy, a bit pink and small. You petted them as you didn’t mind the blood.

“Come on. Servants will need to clean the blood” Tyland says, making a notion for you to stand up “Grab the kittens and let’s go”

“Ew, no. They are all bloody” You say frowning. “You take them”

How lady-like. He thinks, as you didn't seem to mind the blood two seconds ago.

Even with your persistence, your father took the small and weak kittens, and your cat kept meowing at him as if he would kill him.

“How did your cat even come here to give birth?” Your father asks as he tries to not get Gemma to kill him.

“I have no idea, father…” You say, and Aemond sees you standing up.

He sees the pile of books in your hands, behind your back as you walk behind your father. You smart wench, he thinks, as you had just successfully stolen forbidden books by setting up your cat to give birth here. You even had him fooled. No one else notices, since your dress was puffy enough, and he noticed it by shamelessly trying to see your ass.

You watch him, and press your index finger in your lips, as you walk behind your father and his complaints about your cat.

“Do not bother the prince, darling” Tyland says once you get out of the library.

“I think he is quite handsome” you admit, when you know the prince won’t hear you. You father watches you shrug, walking forward him, not allowing him to see your hands. He sighs, as Gemma starts meowing loudly.

While the rest of your interactions have been brief, he notices that you are more of a troublemaker than you let yourself look. You had that mischievous smirk always, arching your eyebrows in such a way when you had a plan.

Yet, you were sweet. He notices how you play with your cousins, Cerelle, braiding her hair, and with Loreon, the small heir to Casterly Rock, a kid that enjoyed running around, and you often entertained his antics.

“And there will be so many ladies, Aemond. In this time, we need alliances…” His mother says, as they walked through the castle. He hears the step of Cole behind them, guarding them, and probably hearing how his mother tried to make him a lovebird.

“It does not interest me”

“It doesn’t have to interest you. It is a matter of duty-”

“I won’t marry, mother.” Aemond shrugs, as if that was the way of his life. “Not yet. I have things ahead of me yet”

“You inscribed on the tourney?” The queen inquires, curious.

“No” he says shrugging, slyly trying to seek for you in the royal box, to no avail. “I am not in a hurry.”

He greeted noble ladies, of course. As he was seated on the royal box, bored and waiting, he could see girl after girl doing courtesy and smiling in a flirty way to him. It did not amuse him, and he was polite enough, almost rude.

“She is trying really hard, you know” A voice joins his thoughts. It is you, sitting by the empty chair by his side, where Aegon is supposed to be, but he never is on time.

“Who isn’t?” He rolls his eye.

“I didn’t know you were so in demand. High valued. Sought after” you list, as you fan yourself as it was indeed a hot day.

“Very amusing” He murmurs.

“Come on, my prince. There must be a lady who catches your attention.”

“I am not blind” he says, rolling his good eye. “Of course there are women I find beautiful”

“Oh my... Having feelings now, congratulations, the Seven indeed are capable of the most... unthinkable miracles”

“You just woke up being so funny” he says, looking at you, raising his eyebrow, yet the small way his lips curved allowed you to know he was amused.

“I am always funny, my prince” you say watching the crowd get settled, squinting your eyes due to the sun. “My cats are good, thanks for asking. Gemma is quite the mother, even if she tried to eat one of them.”

"How... vivid." He says, raising his eyebrows in slight disgust.

"I saved them. Since they are four, I named them: Elia, Joy, Alyssa and Teora"

"And what if one of those silly cats was to be a male?" he asks, as if seeing a flaw in your cat-naming thing.

"Pff, none of them will be. I know it. And if they are, I won't change the names"

He remains quiet, surprised by how bold and petulant you could be. It was amusing to him, and he enjoyed talking to you more than he cared to admit.

“You stole from the library.” he reminds you.

“I have no idea what you are about” you say, still looking at the crowd, smiling softly. The red of your dress made your gold hair bright even more. “Ladies do not read such matters”

“Yeah, right. You are unlike any lady”

“Quite the contrary” you finally turn to see him “I am just like any other lady” you says, smiling. "It just happens that I am friends with the prince, so I am allowed to speak freely"

"Who said..." He says, opening his mouth and turning his face to you, a bit impressed by your silliness "How come you think... you suppose that we are friends?"

"Since you have neither sneaked about the time at the library, or told me to shut up and leave you alone, it is a logical conclusion, if we have in mind your previous reputation to anyone else." You say smiling. "And do not worry, if you do not consider me as such, doesn't matter, because I do and I appreciate you even if you hate me"

"You are..." He scoffs, grinning like a fool "Unbelievable"

"I know. One of my many charms. That and being a matchmaker. I love it. It is wonderful to make couples at court, and more if they end up together, being all happy and..."

“Huh.” He hums, thinking of how odd you were. “Talking about the wonders of a married life”

“I didn’t say that. I merely stated that… marriage isn’t the worst. I intend to find a husband very soon as well. I would very much like to be a wife”

“I shall pray for the poor soul who calls you wife” He murmurs as he looks at the field below, where the knights were preparing, yet you hear his grumbles.

“And I shall pray to see prince Aemond besotted for a lady” you say teasingly, standing up, not before doing a small courtesy and leave to sit by your father, who had just arrived, frowning a bit as to why you were with prince Aemond.

The tournament does not bore him at all. He is very into the way the fight develops, and he takes mental notes when he sees some weaknesses in the participants. He regrets, just a bit, not joining, because he thinks he could have won.

He sees you, on the seats below him, jumping in excitement as the fight develops. You are into it very much, clapping and screaming as any commoner does outside the royal box. It was improper, but it was… cute.

He can see the rest, clapping politely, not overly excited yet proper for the occasion. You were unlike the rest, yet at the same time, you were just like any lady. It amazed him, and he did not understand.

He soon realises that he is not the only one that has you in mind, when the winner of the tournament comes closer to the stands, riding triumphantly in circles while the audience cheers him on, the crown of the Queen of Love and Beauty on his lance.

“The Winner, Ser Dale Dondarrion shall find his Queen of Love and Beauty”

He hesitates for some moments, he thinks he shall name his niece Jaehaera to win the favour of the royal house, like his ancestor once did to little princess Daenerys at the early reign of King Jaehaerys.

Yet his smile faints when he sees that the queen of beauty’s laurel falls into your lap.

“Lady Lannister, I hope I am deserving of dedicating my victory for you, and shall your reign be full of joy, even if lasting one night”

You take the wreath of flowers, almost jumping in sight and squealing some thanks as Tyland accommodates the crown onto your braided hair. Your crowning came with an ovation full of applause, from the box and from the commoners… but him.

It was an odd feeling, stirring something in him, as he watches your cheeks pink from the compliments of all, and most of all; having a suitor. Being named queen of love and beauty was not anything like a dull compliment of court merely because it was proper. It was being publicly courted, and often something many ladies wished, because there was no better feeling than being shown off to everyone.

He was quiet the rest of the day. Humming when ladies talked to him, in hopes to gain his attention and be courted; when Aegon mocked him; when Helaena placed one of her bugs in his lap, which Maelor ended up squeezing on his grip; when his mother presented him a lady of a high castle with expensive clothes and a sweet behaviour, pure, and devoted. He paid little attention to it all.

It was when your reign was coming to an end that he asks for Tyland to come to the empty throne room. He was watching the throne, carefully inspecting it, as he calculated of his next words. He was being irrational, clearly driven by his emotions and desperation rather than the logically he usually had.

“My prince”

Tyland was no stranger to the formalities of court, yet he never let himself be intimidated by lords that tried to impose themselves. He was the second son, yet he had established a name for himself and earned respect in his position; there was nothing for him to feel belittled about

Yet intimidation comes natural with prince Aemond around.

He has the impression that his one eye is wide open, and the smirk that naturally was on his lip was one of amusement in the suffering of the rest. Always stoic, never doing things out of impulsivity... Which was even worse. His hands behind his back, as he remained as still as a statue.

It did not frighten him, but he knew Aemond was as cold as unforgiving. And slicing his head won’t make the prince feel regret.

“Lord Tyland” Aemond greets him softly.

A silence follows, as Tyland feels his hand sweating slightly. “An idea for the small council?” He tries to guess. “I am sure it can wait, my prince, I should be with my daughter, since it’s her day…”

“Exactly. That’s what I wanted to speak about”

Tyland is a smart man, and he quickly realises the problem.

“I know she can be presumptuous and slightly spoiled, my prince” He starts, feeling Aemond’s eye on him as he turns to face him. “She takes the title too seriously, when it isn’t, Mushroom was just hyping her up, and she is just still a girl, and I apologise on her behalf for trying to impose herself as Queen, when her reign only lasts for a day, and she really is…”

“I want to marry her” Aemond tells Tyland simply. “Her reign shall not end. She can be a princess.”

Lannisters usually aren’t left speechless. They had never been known for their silence, yet here he is, silent.

“Ser Dondarrion made the same proposal hours earlier, my prince, and I…”

“And you will allow your daughter to marry a Ser instead of a prince? I have already told you. I want to be her husband” He insists, his tone not certainly soft as he loses patience. His soul craves you. He needs to be yours. He can’t let you go away. “She is smart and she has the wits. She is spoiled, and she loves to have her way. She is kind, sweet, and funny. And I want to be her husband and give her anything she asks for. Is that so hard to get?”

What wakes up Queen Alicent is her son with a stoic expression, not even entering her rooms to speak.

“I was wrong” He says simply “I shall marry Lady Lannister, mother. I am in a hurry. So I ask you to prepare the wedding. Good night and Seven blessings”

Almost a year later is when your father comes closer to your chambers once again, seeing how your ladies in waiting do a courtesy out of politeness, and he watches prince Aemond at your door, waiting for him.

“Came as fast as I could…”

“Hm” Aemond says, as he walks toward the open doors.

Tyland could have his distance with Prince Aemond, but he couldn’t deny how good a husband he was. He wasn’t a man of many emotions, in his perspective, yet he was a devoted husband. He danced as many times you wanted in the ceremony, sighing every time you made him stand up from his seat. He didn’t wear the eye patch on your wedding, just as you requested.

“That is the worst idea ever, darling” He said to you, and you rolled your eyes.

“Well, he will have to if he wants to marry me”

And so he did. When you wanted to travel to Volantis, he arranged it all. When you wanted for him to meet Brightroar, he took Vhagar and rode into the Westerlands with you.

“Was it all well?”

“Everyone in the castle heard a lion roar” Aemond says walking past the maesters.

You seemed so little, in Tyland’s eyes, all sweaty and tired, like the time you got so sick he was afraid you would die. He had brought the very best maesters he could find, just to assure you were safe.

“It is a girl” It’s the first thing you say to your father, smiling a bit. “A healthy baby”

Tyland leans, to kiss your forehead, as you extend your babe to him. It was a small thing, yet chubby and all pink still. She had small, silver hair, very thin, but present. He could see the little gold spot, as if gold hair would grow on some of her hair. It was indeed curious, and yet he couldn’t think she was anything but perfect.

“A bit squirmy” He comments, as the baby yawns, opening her mouth as she whines slightly.

As he tries to coo the small thing, he watches how Aegon sits by your side, at the edge of the bed, passing his hand behind your shoulders to caress your shoulder. You lean against him a bit, and say.

“It is a pain to breastfeed, why didn’t you tell me?”

He chuckles a bit awkwardly, he had never gotten used to your bluntness and honesty. “I never knew anything about that”

“Well, it is. I thought babies knew how to do it, but she takes a long time” You say, looking up at Aemond.

“She is still very little, my love” Aemond reminds you.

“I know, but what if I am doing it wrongly? Mothers usually know those things, and I find myself clueless. Aunt Joanna says it comes naturally, but she has successfully raised kids who have survived childhood.” You say, looking at Aemond. “So has your mother. How comes I don’t know?”

“Because you are a mother from little more than a day.” Aemond reminds you “And they had help. So you do. You have me, of course. You have wet nurses, maids, maesters, and my own mother and of course, you have the brightest mind. We’ll do”

“Did you know Aemond cried, father?” You tell him, and he finally looks away from his little granddaughter.

He blinks, a bit confused, watching the prince. “Oh, did he?”

“Yeah, it was rather cute” Aemond rolls his eye amused, as your hand was on his knee.

“It’s the only natural response.” Tyland says, his finger caressing the skin of the sleeping babe, who squirmed a bit at the feeling, like a cat. “She is delightful. Have you named her?”

Aemond looks at you, amused, expecting you to answer the question. You had the smug grin on your face, and nodded. “We had a deal. If she had golden hair, she would have a Targaryen name. If she had silver hair, she would have a Lannister name”

“And?”

“Well, she is rather… peculiar. She had silver hair, but you can see how some gold hair has grown too? It is the oddest of things, but the Maesters said it was natural. You know how cats have different hair colours?”

“Don’t compare her to a cat” Tyland makes a face, softly rocking her in his arms.

“She has both silver and gold.” Aemond says, as if reminding you to keep on trail.

“Ah, yes. Since it’s most silver, we agreed on something that you will find the brightest things, father.” You look at your husband and then your father. “Gaemma. It’s a bit… weird to say it, but with time it shall be delightful”

Tyland looks at you, and he blinks. “Like your cat?”

“Well, thanks to her I and Aemond met.” You remind him. “She deserves some credit” You add.

“I like it” he murmurs. “Don’t make your mama lose her mind” He says, as the baby yawn, extending her arms.

“She will, after all she is her mother’s daughter” Aemond says, taking her back, and he adds “You should have seen how loud she wailed once she came.”

“I am here, world. Hear me roar” you say, as if trying to translate Gaemma’s cries. You smile widely, and Tyland knows that even if you were always going to be his little girl, you were in the best hands, and that Aemond adored the ground you walked on. Even if you name their child after your cat.

1K notes · View notes

dollfacefantasy · 2 months ago

Text

CRY IF I WANT TO ♡

pairing: negan x fem!reader

summary: life has been different since you've been taken to the sanctuary. you're not sure how you fit in here. some may call you one of the wives, but you don't think that's accurate. maybe his pet? his doll? as the days pass, you're not sure it really matters. the distinction doesn't get you any closer to escape.

cw: nsfw (18+), dark fic, smut, dubcon, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), kidnapping/captivity, stockholm syndrome, coercion, forced ddlg/daddy kink, humiliation kink, dacryphilia, violence (from negan, simon, and reader), hurt/comfort sorta

wc: 10.9k (oops lol)

a/n: ermmm... hehe yeah. i've been wanting to write this so i hope someone likes it. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated <3

kinktober slot: day 13 - mindbreak (i think)

"Rise and shine, little lady. We got a lot of things to do today."

Your eyes flutter open, the bright light from the window in front of you broken up by the silhouette of the man at your bedside. The sight of him, even just the outline of his body, sends a nauseating crackle of dread through your bones. It's a feeling you can't verbalize of course - not if you want this day to resemble any sort of pleasant.

"There she is," Negan says, speaking with his signature cadence that made you want to rip out your hair, "How'd you sleep, babydoll?"

"Fine," you rasp as you slowly sit up. The mornings were the only time you could get away with dull answers like that. Any small bit of attitude could be blamed on you being 'cranky' rather than feelings of hatred that hadn't been broken down by this point.

He smiles at you, his rough hand cupping your jaw.

"You're so pretty in the mornings," he mumbles, sweeping a thumb over your pouty bottom lip.

You pause for a second, but so does he. Like he expects a reply. Unfortunately, you know the words he wants to hear. Swallowing the last sliver of dignity you have, you force out the response you'd been trained to say over the last however-long.

"Thank you, daddy."

He grins even wider if that's possible and pats your head. "You're welcome. Now let's get you dressed. Like I said, daddy's got a lot to do today."

You get out of bed and follow him over to the dresser that held your outfit for the day. The chill of cold air bites at your legs as the lack of blankets leaves them exposed. The generator had been out for the past day or so, leaving the Sanctuary victim to the harsh Winter raging outside. You were hoping he'd take that into account when picking your clothes, but you didn't hold out too much hope.

The two of you shuffle around the gray furniture of Negan's room. Even though you'd been in here more times than you could count now, you still marveled at the quality of the chairs and sofa. Items like these seemed luxurious with how the world was outside these walls.

When you reach the dresser, you follow the routine you'd become used to. You peel the small shirt you're permitted to sleep in off and drop it in the basket nearby. Your panties are next to go. You pull the dainty garment down and toss it to the same place as your top.

You can feel his eyes on you with every move you make. They watch how your breasts bounce when freed from their confines. They admire the curve of your ass when you bend over. They glimmer with smug satisfaction as you stand there nude before him.

"I'll tell you what. I never get sick of seeing this," he teases.

You offer a weak smile in return. The lack of energy almost seems to please him more.

He walks around to stand behind you, giving you a light pat on the ass as he does. His hands land on your hips first and then slide up to cup your breasts. He pulls you back, positioning you flush against his chest.

"You know I'd keep you like this all the time if I could," he murmurs in your ear, "Sweet and ready for me. Ripe for the pickin' whenever I felt the need."

The deep, gravelly rumble of it seems to trigger a flicker of heat in your lower belly on instinct, and you despise yourself for it. Shame burns so hot in your heart, it threatens to take the nausea you felt earlier into a full on dry heave. You're glad there's not a mirror in front of you. It's easier to keep a docile look plastered on your face when you don't have to stare yourself in the eyes.

The rough pads of his fingertips pinch and tweak your nipples, causing you to squirm a bit where you're standing, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a noise. You can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your neck.

You choose not to say anything to his last statement. There's no guarantee that he hasn't actually considered that, and you don't want to find out. Displaying you in that way in front of everyone doesn't seem like his style, but back when he had you lined up on your knees with the rest of your group, you wouldn't have imagined yourself ever calling him daddy either.

As you'd quickly learned in regards to most things around here, the risk just isn't worth it.

"I'd never do that to you though. Don't think anyone could keep their hands off if they saw all of you, and I just can't have that," he whispers, calming your fears for you. He pulls his hands away from your breasts and steps back to grab the pieces he'd be putting you in today.

He starts with panties. This pair is pink and ruffly just like the last. You step into it with rehearsed timing. One foot then the next. He slides them up to your hips and lets the elastic snap into place against your skin.

You had no clue where he got this shit. You didn't want to believe that his hold on his men was so strong that they'd waste an entire supply run raiding a Victoria's Secret, especially for women they never even got to touch.

It wasn't worth thinking about though. It's not like discovering the origins would spare you from wearing the damn things every day.

Next, Negan shakes the wrinkles out of your dress. You step into that too, just like you did with the underwear. Looking down, you catch a glimpse of the garment.

It's just as humiliating as all the rest he makes you wear. The fabric is bright white and baby pink. Like everything else, you have no idea how it was kept so pristine. The waist is accentuated with a pretty pink ribbon wrapped around it, tied into a large bow at the front. It's extra tight up top and melts into a puffy skirt down below.

He shimmies it over your body and yanks the zipper up in back. The dress conforms to the shape of your figure, leaving little to the imagination in terms of how much the neckline shows and how high the hem of the skirt sits.

Spinning you around, he whistles when he gets the full picture.

"Good God Almighty. Pretty as a picture," he praises, reaching out to pinch your cheek.

Again, you force yourself to smile.

He'd already dressed himself for the day before getting you up, so the rest of the time before you leave the room is spent working through the remnants of your morning routine. He takes you into the bathroom connected to his room to brush your teeth and do your hair.

"Say ah, sweetheart," he smirks before jamming the brush into your mouth.

He's not careful or attentive. He only does it long enough to let the weight of humiliation settle in your stomach. It's always obvious when it kicks in. You get this look on your face like that of an abandoned puppy. Only then does he let you spit and move on to the next task.

He styles your hair into something cute, though you hate it anyway. Like the dress, it's only intended to make you stick out. To draw attention to your status as his possession.

The last thing he does is put your socks and shoes on. Your feet get covered in a pair of frilly ankle socks before he slips a pair of chunky sneakers on you. At least if this place got overrun and you had to bolt, you wouldn't be totally fucked.

"You ready to go, honey?" he asks you when the first part of your torture has finally come to a conclusion.

Again, you nod while looking up at him.

He grins at you. "You're quiet today," he says.

"Sorry, daddy," you respond. The way he said it sounded like teasing, but you could never be too careful.

"Don't be. I like it," he says.

You don't know how he does it, how he deflates you so easily without even trying.

He turns and grabs that stupid bat he carries everywhere, swinging it to his side before facing you again and sticking out his hand.

"Got my two favorite girls, now we're really ready to go," he says. He gestures with his fingers. A small impatient reminder. "You know the rules."

Of course you know what he's referring to. Always hold daddy's hand when you leave the bedroom. One of the rules he'd prattled off to you when he first brought you here.

You reach out and take his outstretched hand, earning a kiss to your head.

The way he'd been holding his arm caused the leather sleeve of his jacket to ride up a bit. Beneath the stiff fabric, you could see the fading scar you'd given him around the same time you'd been informed of the rules. Two crescent shaped marks in the pattern of your teeth.

You can barely stand to look at it now. All it does is bring back memories of when you still held hope for escape or rescue. Back then, you'd thought it'd only be a matter of days until Rick or Michonne burst into the small bedroom they were keeping you in.

The day you'd sunk your teeth into him, he'd just finished giving you one of his speeches about your new life at the Sanctuary. According to him, you'd be so much happier here. Sure you couldn't see your family, but now you had someone better than them. You had him. And he would spoil and take care of a pretty thing like you in the way you deserved. Show off to the rest of your old group how generous he could be.

He'd reached forward to pinch your cheek just like he'd done earlier today. You wanted to smack him away, but he had your hands bound. So you did the next thing you could think of and bit him. Hard.

His eyes burned with fury you hadn't seen since. You can still hear in your mind the way he yelled, shouting "Goddamn it" so loud that the walkers out at the fence probably heard.

After that was a bit hazy. He'd snatched that limb away from you before bringing it back and striking you hard across the cheek. You'd nearly fallen off the bed from the force.

"You little bitch, you try some shit like that again, and I'll knock your fucking jaw loose," he growled before yanking you up right and forcing you to look at him.

Involuntary tears leaked from your eyes as you glared up at his face. Blood oozed from the stinging wound you could feel inside your mouth.

That cut had healed by now though.

You squeeze his hand harder while walking down the hall out of his room. Even though it was the hand that struck you, it was the only thing you had to hold onto now.

Your brain tries to compartmentalize him nowadays. There's Negan, and there's daddy. Negan is the one who gets mean. Negan is the one who yells. Negan is the one who killed your friends. Daddy is the one who cares for you. He keeps you safe and healthy. He'd never hurt you like that. You didn't think you'd survive with a shred of sanity without that distinction.

He feels your little grip and squeezes your hand in return. That's what daddy does.

You stay close to his side as he guides you on the walkway that looks down on the commotion of the main room. Even after what you guessed had been a couple months, if not more, you still didn't like this place. Everything was so transactional. No one cared about each other. It was all about what everyone had to offer. That was by design of course, but it didn't make you any less critical of it.

Your eyes scan the clusters of people below. Although you weren't allowed to socialize on your own, you were starting to get a grasp on the cliques here. Negan's closest advisors all seemed to amalgamate in one area, spare the guy with the burnt face. The table closest to the window was where most of the soldiers ate while the one by the door seated the workers.

You weren't completely sure what class you fit into here.

The most obvious guess would be the group you're about to encounter, Negan's wives. But there are stark differences between you and them that prevent you from feeling camaraderie.

The two of you approach the room where he keeps this group of women. He maintains a tight grip on your hand as you slip through the doors. The disparities between you and the others become obvious as soon as you're within a few feet of them.

All of these women get to dress in black. They stand tall in heels, have earrings dangling next to their faces, and for some, a red tint painting their lips. All of them get to openly glare at him. They don't have to hide their hatred behind a feigned smile or soft laugh.

You know it isn't right to be jealous of them. They're suffering too. This isn't a happy situation for them either. But god, you can't help it. Envy nearly sears a hole through your heart every time you come into this room. What you wouldn't give to be one of them. To be allowed to drink and talk with other people. To not be under the constant threat of punishment.

Despite all these thoughts swirling through your head, you manage to keep your mask on. A simple, thoughtless look on your features as you stand next to him like an oversized accessory.

He looks down at you before dropping your hand.

"Stay right here for me, sweet thing. Daddy's only gonna take a minute," he says.

He stalks off to the back corner of the room with a woman you'd come to learn is named Sherry. They speak in hushed tones, so you can't make out what they're saying. You figure it's about one of the girls sneaking around with some other guy. That's what it's usually about when he makes a stop here with you in tow. Even with their status elevated above yours, they don't get to escape the wrath of his possessiveness.

You stand there awkwardly, arms crossed over your midsection while your weight shifts between your feet. No one tries to talk to you. You can feel their eyes on your pastel form, but their gazes don't hold curiosity or interest. It's pity.

In the beginning, you thought they were looking at you with jealousy. After all, you got your own cell and then graduated to Negan's bedroom while they had to share amenities.

But they weren't naive like you had been. None of them wanted Negan's attention. They didn't want to be his pet or his dolly or whatever the fuck he would classify you as. They had each other, and they got to share the load between all of them.

You sigh quietly and look down at the sparkly trim of your white sneakers.

He finishes his conversation with Sherry and then migrates across the room towards a blonde, crying girl. They speak at the same volume as him and Sherry. It's not worth trying to eavesdrop on.

Instead, you patiently wait the couple minutes it takes for them to finish up and for him to return to you. When he walks back over, you can tell the discussion hadn't been a positive one. His shoulders seem weighed down by whatever information he'd gathered from them.

But the dark cloud above him fades away as his hand slips back into yours. He leads you out of the room just as you'd come in and continues walking with you.

You hesitate but decide to try. "Are you ok?" you ask softly.

His head turns slightly to cast you a look. For a moment, it seems the daddy act has fallen away. He looks at you like he would any other woman who asked him that. Cold. Analytical. But the persona makes its reappearance seconds later as he pulls on a smirk for you.

"Just fine, honey. You don't gotta worry about me," he answers.

You know you should just nod and shut up, but it drives you crazy being led around like a child expected to be seen and not heard. So you decide to try again.

"Did they do something bad?" you ask. You hate how weak your voice comes out. There's no spark to it, no bite or sharp edge. All of that, he'd extinguished in you.

He drops your hand and drapes his arm over your shoulders, pulling you to his side.

"What are you so curious for, huh? You know something about it?" he responds.

You shake your head. Your arm rises and wraps around his torso.

"No. I just don't like when you're upset," you say. You lean your head into his chest to really sell it.

"Oh-ho, look at you. Turning on the charm," he chuckles, "I am just fine, sugar. I swear it. Sometimes those girls give me trouble, but it's nothing I can't handle."

You decide to just take it and nod this time.

He looks at you with satisfaction. "They can't all be like you, y'know? So well-behaved," he praises.

The compliment makes your blood curdle. You couldn't stand that he would act like obedience was your defining trait.

When you were with your group - your family more like - you would never have been described as obedient. Whether at the prison or Alexandria, it felt like every other day you were sneaking off to try something. You were always quick to spring into action, never the type to let someone belittle you. Rick got on your ass about deviating from plans in spurs of emotion more than anyone else. Maybe that's how you wound up here.

You had tried to stop them from taking Daryl. On that dark night in the woods, surrounded by the ring of headlights, you had tried. You didn't rush at Negan like your friend. Not wanting someone else to get their head bashed in, you were more subtle than that. But you attempted to get in the way of the guys carting him off. That's what landed you here. Tucked under his arm, the very weapon that took away two people you love swinging a foot away from you.

But you swallow down all of this rage and nod again. You nuzzle into his chest, a way to conceal the tightening sensation in your throat and the sting of tears at your waterline.

This is the worst part about Negan, you decide. The way he makes you act like you want it.

From your first day here, he made sure to tell you over and over how he's staunchly against rape. He's not a monster. He's not that kind of guy. No, no. You are a prisoner, so yes, technically here against your will, but never in a million years would he violate you in that way.

And he'd stuck true to that. Whenever you screamed or cried or yelled "no" on a loop until he shook you around like a bobble head, he always backed off of his advances. He never copped a feel or slid a wandering hand in your panties while you slept, never held you down or physically forced himself on you.

Instead, he broke you down until saying yes seemed like the only sane option.

You didn't want his affection? That meant you must not want to talk to anyone at all. For days. You didn't want to sit in his lap? Maybe you'd prefer kneeling by his feet for a week, in private and around everyone else. You didn't want to sleep in his bed? Fine. You could sleep on the concrete floor without a pillow or blanket while the heat was out.

You reflect on all of this as the two of you trot through the boxy halls. He takes you around on all his errands for the day. You stop by the doctor's office, inventory, and Dwight's room. All over the place. You stay quiet the whole time. busying yourself with your thoughts as you stay attached to him.

Everyday the line between survival and free will becomes blurrier. You tell yourself that you have to be like this with him. You'll be worse off if you don't act the part of the sweet, adoring girl he wants. But then sometimes you wonder if you truly are becoming obedient. Like a wildcat tamed into a lazy house pet. You almost never resist his touch anymore. You even go to him for comfort sometimes.

The idea kills you, so you deem it best not to think about for now.

Rather, you focus on guessing what the rest of the day would hold. It's already the afternoon by now. The sun hangs low by the tree line, shimmering into the Sanctuary through the rectangular windows across the walls. He wouldn't have a meeting with the lieutenants today. Those were almost always around lunch time. You didn't think he'd spend it with one of his wives either. If that was the case, he usually gave you a heads up in the morning.

The most likely possibility you come up with is the dilemma from earlier. You had never been invited to see the culmination of those though. Normally, he kept you safe and sound in his room while he tended to matters like that, ready to provide him some stress relief when he finished.

But things can always change, and now it seems like that's the case.

He guides you back into the main room. A crowd has gathered down below. You can't see the center point of their conglomeration. All you can sense are the nerves vibrating between everyone.

Their feet shuffle around on the hard concrete flooring. They look between each other with anxious eyes. Hushed chatter clouds the area until you and Negan begin to descend the stairs. That's when they all go quiet. Mouths close and pupils snap to the position of their leader.

You look down to lessen the ache of humiliation that came with accompanying the center of attention. The few times you had scanned the crowd for others' reactions, seeing if you could find a sympathetic gaze or outraged expression, all you found was animosity. The male workers and soldiers leered at you. They smiled and smirked, visibly amused by your girly outfits and docile disposition. On the other side of the aisle, the women glared, taking in the details of your appearance with disgust, like somehow it was your fault you got toted around like this.

His voice booms out to his audience as he takes step after step towards them.

"You all know what we're here for today," he starts, "We got simple rules 'round here, but some people still seem to have trouble following 'em."

Your hand stays linked with his as the two of you reach the landing.

"Watch your step, babydoll," he murmurs to you before continuing his speech. Your cheeks burn with shame.

"It feels like I'm doing this every other month. It's getting ridiculous," he lectures, "I don't like having to be so harsh. Truly, I don't. But rules are rules, and I don't know how I can make myself any clearer. They are not optional."

He walks further into the room with you. Being level with everyone else, you can see more of what's happening. They're gathered around a furnace. Dwight stands near the opening to the flames, clearly preparing something. Another man sits a few feet away. Over in the corner, the woman from earlier is looking at him and crying.

Looks like your guess was correct.

"So we're gonna do this again. Hopefully it's the last time," he concludes.

The crowd parts as you and him head towards the center of the room. He leads you over to an empty spot near the wall. Dropping your hand, he cups your jaw and makes you look him in the eyes.

"Stay right here for me. Daddy'll be right back," he says.

You nod and then watch as he turns away, waltzing over to where Dwight stands.

While your eyes are up, they can't help but catch on somebody familiar standing at the front of the crowd.

Daryl.

Your heart stutters, and you can see on his face that his does too. He looks worn down. Eyes dimmed and face hollowed. His clothes, dirty and ill-fitting. You start to feel tears pricking at your waterline from the sight. You weren't the only one they'd broken down.

In him, you find the compassion you'd been searching for. The look that told you at least one person here didn't take enjoyment from your suffering. But it comes from someone who truly can't help you. Who's in a situation as bad as your own.

You sniffle and try to wipe away any beginning tears before Negan or someone who would tell him notices.

The loud creak of a metal door opening drags your attention to the furnace though. You watch as Dwight pulls out the item he'd been preparing. A burning, metal iron becomes the new focus of everyone in the room.

Upon seeing the small object, so many things connect in your head. You know what's going to happen. You realize why Dwight's face is scarred. You understand why that woman is crying. And you know no one is going to stop any of this now or in the future.

Your heart pounds harder, and your breaths become shaky. Tears blur your vision further. You dig your nails into your palm to try and ground yourself, but it doesn't help. The scene in front of you has whipped your mind into a frenzy. You haven't felt this bad since the early weeks of being in this place.

This stupid fucking place. You hate it. You hate how cruel it is here. How disconnected and lifeless everything feels. You hate him for being the only one allowed to really live. You hate everyone else here for letting him get this powerful.

It's a complete spiral whirlpooling in your mind, only made worse by the fact that you have to keep it contained. You try to tell yourself you just have to wait it out. This couldn't take more than five minutes and then you could go back to the bedroom. You'd be ok. You could take off this itchy dress and put your hair back to how you like it. You could kick off these shoes and hide yourself beneath the warm blankets. None of these people would be around, all you'd have is the quiet between those walls where daddy could make it all better.

As you're in the process of mentally talking yourself down, Negan takes hold of the iron. To free up his hands, he offers Lucille off to someone nearby. Your eyes follow his leather-clad limb to the neck of the bat and then up to its new handler. You see Simon.

You have to look down now. If you don't, everyone here will see the look of pure terror on your face. You close your eyes and rein in whimpers that threaten to spill from your lips. Everything feels fuzzy around you, intangible and like your hands would drift right through them. Your head heats up, the sensation making you dizzy. You try to steady yourself by leaning back against the wall, but the cool, flat surface does little to ease your nerves.

It does even less when you hear his voice closing in on you.

"Hey there, princess," he starts, voice laced with mockery, "You feeling alright?"

You're not looking at him, but the image of his stupid face projects with HD clarity in your mind. You swallow hard and nod.

Laughing lowly, he comes to stand beside you. "You sure about that? You're looking kind of lightheaded," he taunts.

"I'm fine," you choke out.

His hand darts up and grabs your jaw. He doesn't gently guide your eyes where he wants them to look. He yanks your face in his direction like an unruly child with a doll.

"I don't know about that. You're looking kind of rough," he says while glaring down at you with those ruthless eyes, "Maybe I should take you over to the doctor's. We both know Negan wants his favorite toy kept in good condition."

Your entire body vibrates with hatred for this creature. Every breath you take acts as an effort of restraint, a way to lull yourself into not ripping out what hair he has left.

You didn't just despise Simon because he's an asshole or because he was the person harassing your group leading up to that horrible night you were taken. Your aversion for him stems from experiences entirely your own.

A few days after the biting incident, you had tried getting physical with Negan one more time. You'd managed to worm one of your wrists out of your restraints, and instead of aiming for escape, you decided revenge held a higher priority. You waited for him to come check on you, keeping your arm tucked to your body as if it was still bound.

When he finally came in, you sat there and took the speech, took the condescension, and took the promises that you would conform. And then he leaned a bit closer. That's when you backhanded him as hard as he had you the few days prior.

After the hit landed, you lunged forward and tried to wrap the rope connected to you around his neck. You pulled as hard as you could, and for a moment, you thought you had won.

But wrangling you off was easier than you anticipated. They hadn't been allowing you much food or sleep, so the strike took most of your energy. It only took him a handful of seconds to snake his hand under the rope and then pry your arms away.

He stood up and slammed you into the wall with his hand around your throat. In that moment, he didn't look at you with the same fury he had before. This time around, frustration dominated his gaze.

"Was that fun for you?" he asked.

You didn't answer. Your chest puffed with exertion while your eyes stared daggers into him.

"What did I tell you last time? What did I fucking tell you?" he asked. Despite the look in his eye being less volatile, his tone of voice was dangerous as ever. "I told you I would knock that jaw of yours loose. That's what I said, and I meant it. I don't want you thinking I didn't. But I'm not gonna do that right now because I don't think it would work, and I'm not one to waste my own time."

Internally, pride swelled in your chest, thinking you had called his bluff. But then he kept speaking.

"I have a bad feeling that if I struck some sense into you that you'd just try to strike it into me right back, and I can't have that. That's just not gonna fly around here," he said, "So I'll tell you what: I have a better idea. You don't wanna play with daddy? Then you can spend a weekend with your Uncle Simon. See how much fun he can be."

Back then, you didn't know Simon as the right hand man. You didn't have his name and face connected yet. Now, you wished you could go back to that state of mind.

You were with him for three days while Negan did a tour of the outposts and subjugated communities. Only 72 hours. But an hour of him would have been enough to scare you for a lifetime.

When he first came into the room, you didn't get the feeling that him and Negan would handle you so differently. You could tell from the way he looked at you that, like his boss, he looked at you as something to toy with. A source of amusement. The difference, you soon found out, was how they played with their toys.

Unlike daddy, Simon didn't talk just to talk. He didn't warn you of future spankings or timeouts. He hit. And he kicked. And he shoved you down and tossed you around. He didn't offer the same condolences daddy did, there was no "this hurts me more than it hurts you." Nothing he did even bothered Simon. He watched you hurt, and he enjoyed it.

You didn't even get a reward once you'd settled down. Your attitude had disappeared almost instantly. Having the wind knocked out of you once was enough for you to become more amicable, but your change in demeanor didn't phase him. It wasn't his goal.

The only rules Negan left him with were the basic ones for the Sanctuary along with no killing you or causing permanent damage. But that didn't mean he couldn't threaten you with breaking them. He went on and on during the down periods where you cowered in the corner or huddled against the wall of your bedroom cell, telling you stories of how he went rogue before. Any horrible thing he could think of, he dangled in front of you as a potential fate.

When Negan finally came back, you eagerly awaited him. Despite your sleep deprived and bruised condition, your eyes stayed locked on the door like a puppy expecting their master. For the next week, you latched onto him. Didn't want to leave his side. He had made his point. You could hate him as much as you wanted but leave you alone with Simon for a little while, and you'd beg for him back.

That's how you feel right now, staring up into Simon's eyes while he holds your jaw. The pressure his fingers put on your cheeks serve as a reminder of the pain he can inflict while his other hand holding the bat twirls the weapon near your calf. As much as you had been internally preaching your hatred for everything to do with Negan minutes ago, all you want to do now is run into his arms.

You feel more tears wanting to slip down your cheeks, but you try your best to hold them in. The more you cry, the more I like it. That's what he'd told you more than once over those three days.

"Just leave me alone," you tell him. You try to sound as firm as possible, but even your own ears catch the way your voice quivers. "Negan wouldn't like you talking over him."

Your attempt at taking a stand falls flat. He doesn't back off any, rather, he leans in closer.

"Negan, huh? Are you even allowed to call him that?" he mocks and feigns a pout.

"Just shut up!" you say. You mean it as a threat; though, it hits his ears like a plea. More hot panic rushes down your spine from the stress of having to remain quiet while also trying to be assertive.

His lips flatten into a line before he continues speaking. "Your head's getting too big for those shoulders, little girl. You better watch your attitude, or I might have to suggest you're due for some more correction," he mutters.

A loud scream rips the two of you from your conversation. He drops his hand from your face, and you both straighten up against the wall. Negan stands in the center of the room, pressing the blazing iron to the side of the man's face.

He wails until he passes out, and that's when his leader peels away the device of torture. Sticky skin goes with it before snapping back against his face like a rubber band. You grimace, your stomach twisting at the sight. You'd seen so much blood and guts over the years of living out on the road and fighting with other groups, but melted skin was a new one.

Negan turns to Dwight and gives him the iron back. You breathe an involuntary sigh of relief, subconsciously soothed by the thought of him returning to your side.

The reprieve ends suddenly though when a small, sharp pain slices along the meat of your calf. You whimper and lift your leg away on instinct. Looking for the source, you see the bat twirling from the motion of Simon's wrist. One of the barbs had caught your skin. Your eyes flit up to him.

"Watch out!" you say. The old you would have been seething. She would have pulled out her pocket knife and given him a little receipt for the cut. But now, you watch him with fearful eyes, trying to gauge whether or not you would get in trouble for calling him an asshole.

"Remember what I said," he tells you quietly as a trickle of red runs down to the lacy frills of your sock.

Before you can respond, a warm hand lands on the small of your back. Your head turns to find Negan smiling down at you.

"What's with the long face, sugar? Simon bothering you?" he asks, clearly not meaning it seriously even though to you it is exactly that.

You part your lips to answer, but Simon beats you to it.

"Bothering her? C'mon. I'm just checking up on her. She looked a little dizzy, so I offered to take her to the doctor's," he says, light as ever, "I'm just watching out for her, y'know? Sweet thing like her will get eaten alive here if she's not careful."

Negan raises his eyebrows, and for a second, you think he's about to take your side. But then he just chuckles and shakes his head.

"She's doing just fine. That was her first time seeing one of those, so she's probably a little shaken up," he says, rubbing your arm.

"Hm... Sounds about right," Simon replies, "I know that's not how her little group did things."

"Yeah. So I'll get her back to the room. Think you can handle shit down here?" he says, gesturing around to the dispersing crowd.

"Always," Simon says with a mock salute. He then hands Lucille back.

Finally, you find some relief, some true sanctuary as Simon walks away. Your body physically relaxes. Negan feels it underneath his arm and spares you a glance as the two of you walk back up the stairs.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

You want to just take the easy route and say no, to play along with this sadistic charade and not cause any trouble. But you can't get the single syllable out. It feels impossible to even shake your head. Even though Simon's gone, the weight of everything that happened still remains along with the stinging in your leg.

Your throat feels tight, and your eyes feel like they're two seconds from overflowing. The lights suddenly seem too bright, and everyone here is too loud. You can't show him that though. You don't want more correction. You don't want someone to like it when you cry. But you can't ignore him either. That would be the worst thing to do.

All you manage in response is a shaky shrug. You let out a broken sigh with it and lean into his chest. The tension in your shoulders returns as you fight to keep the tears from leaking out against the worn leather.

At first, he doesn't say anything, and the two of you keep walking. Your steps remain in time with his as you traverse the walkway and around the corner. Then the two of you come to a stop when you're out of sight. He turns you by your shoulders, holding you in front of him so that you can't shy away.

"I got one more thing to attend to out by the fence. Think you can handle that?" he asks.

Your heart pulses to an uneven rhythm, trying to decide what to do without devolving into pure panic. You bite your lip as you mull your options over. Say yes and go with him. Then inevitably fail to contain yourself and get in trouble. Or, say no now and risk punishment for being defiant. You're not sure which one will end up worse.

"Can... can we just go back to the room?" you ask. Your voice comes out weak as if every word siphons a drop of energy from you.

He eyes you with uncertainty of his own; though, there's no fear in his look. His gaze is careful, an attempt to decipher if this is some kind of deception. You'd been pretty well-behaved as of late, but one bad day could take even the most obedient pet to a rabid dog, jaws primed to gnash.

But you didn't really have a reason to lie. The bedroom with him would provide the least likely chance at escape, and in the condition you were in now, you didn't seem to be planning an attack.

Slowly, he nods. "Sure, honey. I'll have Arat handle the other shit," he tells you before leading you in the direction of his bedroom.

The words he mumbles through his radio sound distant to you. You watch your legs switch between one and the other as you walk. On your right, you see the small red splotch staining the pristine cloth of your sock.

Before you know it, he's pushing open the bedroom door and bringing you inside. It then closes behind you, creating a barrier between you and everything else out there. It gets a little easier to breathe.

He guides you the few steps over to the edge of the bed and sits down, pulling you onto his lap. You feel his eyes scanning over you in an attempt to figure out the problem without asking. His hand rubs up and down your back over the crinkly fabric of your dress. His other palm focuses on your legs, coasting over your knees and the area of your thighs the skirt doesn't cover.

The code is harder for him to crack than usual. Normally when you got upset, it resulted from something he said. And he knows that because, usually, that's his intention. It was always either that or you'd just generally be feeling down, missing your home. But that doesn't seem to be the case right now. You seem more antsy than your normal bouts of sadness. He doesn't think it was from watching the spectacle downstairs. He knows you hate the saviors indiscriminately. Watching some random guy's face melt off wouldn't have you this upset. Finally, he relents.

"What's wrong?" he asks. He actually makes an effort not to sound like he'll make fun of whatever your answer may be.

"I just don't feel good," you choke out and bite your lip.

He feels you shudder on his lap, and he knows it's not the full truth. Pulling you a little closer on his thighs, he continues to look down at you.

"C'mon, baby. Tell daddy what hurts," he coaxes.

Your face tenses, but you know he won't drop this. "Just... just... I don't know. A lotta stuff," you say. You couldn't decide on a lie to commit to.

He sighs and bounces his leg with you on it a few times. "Did someone say something to you? Was someone bothering you?" he asks as his scope of potential causes narrow.

You're in the middle of trying to think of a cover story when his hand glides down to remove your shoes. He knocks one off. Then the other. The foamy white sneakers clatter to the ground next to his foot.

He goes to bring his hand back up, dragging it over the fine threading of your socks, but his eyes catch on the bloody splotches near the edge. Grabbing your ankle, he tugs your limb upward. It puts you at an awkward angle and nearly knocks you from your perch on his thigh. He stares the small wound down, assessing every detail of the tiny scrape.

"How'd you get this?" he asks. He looks over to you.

In reality, it may have been the most standard question in the world. But it hits your ears like an accusation and brings a fresh wave of tears that you can't control. Your lip quivers as your lids blink a few droplets over your water line.

"Simon did it," you weep.

You're scared he won't believe you, but after a few seconds, he drops your foot and pulls you close. His arms wrap around you tight and keep you flush against his chest. The warmth of the embrace encompasses you. You let the dam burst and cry into him, pouring all your sadness out against his body.

His hand sweeps up and down your back in comforting strokes. "Shh, shh, shh, sweetheart. Daddy's got you," he murmurs.

You feel him shrug off his jacket and push it aside, leaving the plain material of his t-shirt to soak up your anguish. He keeps you as close as possible. One of his hands cradles the back of your head to ensure you don't pull away.

"Does Simon bother you a lot?" he asks.

You nod. "Whenever I'm not with you," you choke out.

He hums in acknowledgement. "I'll talk to him. He's not supposed to hurt you when you're being such a good girl for daddy."

"I was trying really hard," you sob, your voice cracking, "I've been trying to be good. But he just hates me anyway. He's so mean to me."

Your arms snake around him as tight as a pair of snakes aiming to kill. You cling to him with everything you have, as if he's your one true savior from this living hell and not the cause of it.

In your head, you feel like you're annoying him. He's probably waiting for you to calm down, so he can nip this blossom of resentment in the bud. Good girls don't have tantrums or meltdowns, right? And all he cares about is that you act the part of a good girl.

But you only think all of that because you can't see the smile on his face right now.

He's grinning more than any of the times he got you to say something humiliating or cooperate with a punishment. The look he displays now reaches a new level of smugness, higher than the night he killed two of your people and traumatized the rest of them. His satisfaction runs deeper this time because right now, you're truly broken.

This isn't something you agreed to because the other option was worse. It's not something he had to coach you into or manipulate a situation into becoming. You did this all on your own. You came to him. Sure, he had to coax it out of you a little bit, but once he got his foot in the door, you let him right in. You're clinging to him for comfort, looking to him for a solution. He couldn't be more pleased. This is exactly what he wanted - to break you down. Now he just had to reel you back in the slightest bit, get you in that perfect middle ground between too independent and non-functioning.

"You have been doing really good for me, y'know? I'm proud of you, baby," he tells you in the most earnest tone he can manage, "Don't worry about Simon for right now, ok? Daddy's gonna set him straight. He won't bother you again."

You nod, but the reassurance doesn't stop the flow of tears from your eyes. Your fingers stay clenched around the fabric of his shirt.

"No more tears, honey, c'mon," he coos. He pries your limbs from around him and boosts you to your feet, standing you between his thighs. "I'll take care of it just like I take care of you. Let's just worry about what my little baby needs to feel better right now."

You take a few seconds to think about it, but the answer comes with relative ease. The most agitating thing about this situation right now is wrapped all around you, scratching at your sides and digging in under your arms.

"Can you take my dress off?" you sniffle.

His eyes fall from your face over your body. "What? You don't like this pretty little number?" he teases.

For once, you don't feel like you're two seconds away from punishment. You feel like it's a joke, and you don't have to awkwardly straddle the line between playing along with the humor and submitting to the literal interpretation.

"It's ok... it's just kinda scratchy," you say and wipe away your tears with the back of your hand.

"Spin around for me then. We'll get it off you. Can't have it irritatin' that soft skin while you're tryin' to relax."

You take the few steps to turn around. His fingers grasp the zipper and undo the baby pink prison you'd been trapped in for the day. Feeling the chafing fabric pulled away from you lets you take a real breath for the first time in hours. Already a small bit of relief. It only compounds when the garment hits the floor and pools at your feet.

He tugs you back by the waist and lays you across the bed, body on full display for him. Right now, you don't mind his gaze tracking your curves. He leans over you, his hands coasting from the sides of your breasts down to your hips.

"You're prettier like this anyways, princess," he praises.

"Thank you, daddy." It spills out as naturally as water from a faucet.

He rewards you with his lips on your stomach instead of words. Kissing the smooth, warm skin, his lips travel from just above your navel to the divot between your breasts. Your nipples rise to attention automatically.

His hands slide up to cup your mounds of flesh. He fondles and gropes them as his lips migrate up the curves to the hardening little peaks. They don't latch on just yet. He teases them with kisses instead, letting the anticipation of blissful suction build.

You take your lip between your teeth as you watch him. Chills break out across the rest of your body. You know you should be fighting. You know you should kick and scream and cry. You should try to take advantage of his closeness and get towards your revenge. But in your hellish life, are you not allowed one moment of pleasure? You haven't let those plans of escape and vengeance go, but you want this right now. You want to feel good, and he gives you that.

This isn't Negan. This is daddy. And you don't wanna hurt daddy.

His tongue peeks out from between his lips to trace wet circles around your nipple. The sensation draws a whine from you. Your body squirms beneath him with an eagerness to feel more.

"I think I know how to make you feel better. Take your mind off all that stuff from before," he whispers.

He takes one of your nipples between his lips, flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue and scraping his teeth against the sensitive area. You reward the choice with a mewl and squirm your legs. He chuckles and then switches to the other one.

"That feel good?" he asks.

You nod, your head tilting back and your eyes fluttering.

Grinning, he continues his work on your chest. You whine and squirm for him, giving him all the reactions he craves. Soon, his hand ghosts up your inner thigh. His fingertips drag over the flesh and land on your clothed center. Through the thin pink cloth, he rubs at your clit. That garners a breathy moan and a full body shudder.

"Goddamn, you are so cute," he chuckles, "Just a few little touches and you squirm around like a virgin for me."

Heat floods your cheeks, but you don't bother disputing the claim. It was the truth. You weren't sure what it was about him that got you so amped up and needy.

The pad of his middle finger swirls around the little nub in your panties. He can already feel the fabric getting sticky from the wetness between your thighs.

"Poor baby. You're so easy to play with," he says.

His mouth leaves your breasts now and begins to retrace its path down your stomach. It glides over your skin with open-mouthed kisses all the way down to the hem of your underwear. His fingers fall away from your center to your dismay.

Your disappointment is short lived though. You feel him position your thighs on his shoulders. When you look down, his eyes are staring right back up at you, gleaming like that of a panther ready to pounce.

"You want daddy's mouth on you? Will that help you feel better?" he rasps.

You nod quickly. "Please, daddy," you whimper.

"So polite. You didn't even need me to remind you of your manners," he smirks.

You don't even care about that remark. It washes right over you. All your mind is concerned with right now is getting more of his touch.

He brings his index finger back between your legs. He hooks it beneath the soaked seat of your panties, pulling it to the side and revealing your slick folds to him. The thumb on his opposite hand comes up to rub over the length of your slit up to your clit. Back and forth, nice and slow, just to tease you.

Your hips writhe the slightest bit, and he nips the skin of your inner thigh.

"Tsk. You know good girls are patient. They don't wriggle around. I've taught you better than that," he chides.

"Sorry," you say, backing down quickly.

"It's alright. I know you're having a rough day, so I'll let it slide this time," he says. He then leans in to lay some kisses on your clit.

Your eyes roll back and your toes curl. He never let things slide. This must have been a miracle. The same man who always toted that the rules weren't optional, letting you bypass one? Maybe you were his favorite. That's what you took it as anyways.

He makes out with your cunt like it's the prettiest thing he's ever seen. His lips engulf it, spreading his affection from your little bundle of nerves all the way down, nearly reaching your puckered entrance below. You whine and clutch at the bedsheets. You were still too scared to grab his hair. You weren't sure if he'd like it and groan or glare at you in a way that said you'd pay for it later.

It doesn't matter to you right now though. What you hold isn't important when you feel this good. It feels like a firework show is erupting in your belly, bright bursts of all different colors. Your heels dig into his back, subconsciously keeping him buried between your thighs.

He's tempted to tear your panties off and fling them aside. He would if not for the limited number in his possession. If this was normal life, he'd rip a pair to shreds on a weekly basis. These things were so cute when he put them on, but when he wanted at you, he despised them. If this was normal life, he'd just buy you new ones whenever a tattered one had to be tossed. But then again, if this was normal life, he wouldn't have you at all, so it isn't really worth thinking about.

Refocusing his mind on your pleasure, he dives further into your cunt. His nose bumps your clit as his tongue fucks into you. He pushes it in a few times before pulling back and just lapping at your pussy in broad strokes, getting every drop of you he can. Two of his fingers prod at your entrance before slipping in. They fuck deeper than his tongue, but don't stretch you out like his cock. A happy medium to walk the steps of preparation.

He maneuvers his digits with expert precision, scissoring and curling them at the perfect intervals. You can't help the way your hips buck in response. He doesn't get on you about it though. He just wraps your arms around his hips and holds you in place.

Your thighs squeeze around his head too. Luckily, that wasn't against the rules. He loved feeling the heat of your plush legs wrapped around his skull, keeping him close.

He pumps his fingers faster, curling them right against that spot that got you to squeal and cry out his name.

"Cum for me, babydoll. All over my face. I wanna feel it," he rasps.

It's a fortunate coincidence he gives you that command because you were about two swipes of his tongue away from doing it on your own. You melt against the bed, eyes fluttering and body jerking and quivering as rushes of pleasure sweep through you.

Your fingers grip the blankets so tight they threaten to tear into them, but then they loosen completely and go lax next to your hips. He licks your cunt through the entire thing, not letting you come down until the euphoria has thoroughly washed through you.

While you're lying there, dazed and blissed out, he untangles himself from your legs and stands at the edge of the bed. He wipes your nectar from his facial hair before pulling his shirt over his head and unzipping his pants.

"I think daddy deserves a little reward for making you feel so good, pretty girl. What do you say?" he asks.

Of course, you nod. There was no way you would reject him while still so close to the high of your last release. He grins at your hazy movement and shoves down his pants, jerking his cock a few times and crawling on the bed to hover over you.

"You're such a good girl for me. Better than I ever thought you'd be," he says while looking down at your face.

"Wanna be good for you, daddy," you say softly, blinking at him with your misty doe eyes.

His grin spreads even wider. In your sane mind, you probably would have thought it looked like some creature out of hell. But right now, the look just makes you giggle and squirm.

Down below, he lines up at your entrance. He slides his tip through your arousal a few times, getting it nice and wet before he sinks in. A smile of your own rises on your face, and he groans at the deep satisfaction of having your cunt embrace him so readily.

"Perfect little pussy, fuck," he grunts, "Think it's the best I've ever had."

You preen at that compliment. He balances his forearms on each side of your head as he begins to thrust. Your legs rise up and lazily wrap around his waist, which he loves. He can't get enough of the fact that you want him, that you're pushing him deeper and not letting him pull out too much.

His head falls beside yours, letting you hear every pant and grunt that falls from his lips. Your walls squeeze around him every so often. The noises make your tummy flutter for him. It drives you wild to know you brought him to such a state of lust.

"Christ, you're so fucking tight," he mumbles.

You giggle again and drape your arms around his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. You just get lost in the feeling of him inside you, his cock battering all your sweet spots just right. He leans in and kisses at your neck. His hips pump deeper, ramming his shaft further into the warm depth of you.

In this moment, everything feels so good and pure. You can't even imagine any of the pain he inflicted on you before. It all feels like a distant dream. Memories that belonged to someone else, not you. At this second, it feels as though this bliss will last forever. Just you and him tangled in the throes of passion without a concern for anything else happening beyond the privacy of his room.

When you open your eyes, they're a little watery from all the stimulation and how good it feels mixed with your saccharine thoughts. You arch off the bed a few inches, pushing your pert breasts against the warmth of his chest. He pushes you back down with ease, keeping you angled exactly where he wants you.

Pulling back a little to look at your face, he smiles when he sees the water gathering in your eyes.

"Oh, those are the tears I like to see," he croons.

You moan, a little shiver coursing through you. It only encourages him to pound his hips harder against you, in and out, in and out, until you're both approaching the edge.

"You gonna cum again for me, sweetheart? Show daddy how good he's making you feel?" he murmurs.

"Yeah, mhm, ah-" you whimper, "I wanna cum daddy, wanna cum for you."

"I know you do," he chuckles, "I can feel it."

Your cunt contracts and releases around him with increased frequency now. He knows you're moments away from reaching the peak. Swiveling his hips, he tries to strike that chord and bring you crashing down.

You whimper, the pitch getting higher as the glass gets closer to shattering. Finally, with one good jerk of his pelvis, you tense up and cry out. A couple tears trickle from your eyes. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades.

Your body trembles and rolls with the feeling. He fucks you through it, savoring every delicious squeeze of your cunt around him. A few breathless groans rumble out of him. He gets every last second in your hole he can before he has to pull out.

He snaps his hips back, replacing the tightness of your pussy with his hand. It's not the same, but it will do. He gives it a few quick strokes before he explodes and spills on your belly. You lift your head and watch as the ropes of hot, sticky cum land on your skin.

His hips jerk with each surge of release firing from him. When he finishes, his head hangs, and he takes a moment to catch his breath. He scoots off of you and cools down beside your body on the bed. It's quiet for a few moments; though, he's never one to be vulnerable, so he doesn't let the silence linger for too long.

"You feeling better?" he asks and rotates his head to look at you.

You nod, visibly more relaxed than before.

"Thank you, daddy," you say, sweet as can be, before leaning in and pecking his lips.

He stares at you for a few moments in fond satisfaction. Then he gets up, and pulls you to your feet with him.

"C'mon. Let's get you cleaned up," he says.

You follow obediently to the bathroom where he wipes you off with a damp rag and makes sure you're all set to get some rest after. Both of you make your way to the dresser next. He pulls another set of those panties out and slips you into them. They don't feel so horrible this time around, but in the back of your mind, you're sure that won't be the case tomorrow morning. A soft, thin shirt covers your upper body next. It's the same baby pink color as the dress, but you don't mind since it's much more comfortable.

On your own, you tuck yourself to his side for the short walk back to the bed. He climbs in first and then tugs you into your spot next to him.

"I want you to try and get some rest," he tells you, stroking down the side of your face, "When you wake up, I'll get you something to eat, but for now, I want you to take a nap, ok?"

You aren't particularly tired, but while living here, sleep has become your greatest method of escape. You never reject a chance at it. The only thing is, right now, you don't really want to escape. You don't feel a horrible gnawing sensation from being so close to him.

However, you agree anyways because daddy knows best for you, and you don't want to make him upset.

You lie your head on his chest and snuggle up to him. He holds you close, rewarding the compliance by rubbing your back.

"Sweet dreams, babydoll," he murmurs.

You shut your eyes, allowing your mind to recede into visions of the life and people you had before this. The life you still hoped one day you would get back, even as it became more and more like a fantasy rather than a realistic future.

#negan x reader #negan smut #negan x you #negan smith x reader #negan smith x you #negan smith smut #twd x reader #twd smut #twd imagine #twd x you #twd x y/n #ch: negan 💌

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heegyukeluv · 3 months ago

Text

the devil wears prada (sjy)

pairing: idol!jake x afab!reader

synopsis: As Sim Jaeyun stepped out of Prada’s after party, everyone ignored his goodbyes to the sea of paparazzis, because the buzz was about the lucky person who got to disheveled his hair. Jake’s honest answer for that was: the devil. And she for sure wears Prada.

my's note: i love how everyone saw Jake’s after-party photos and thought the same thing (i'm everyone). disheveled hair jake after-party prada that’s all. and i just realized i don’t know how to write a quickie lol enjoy <3 (please take into consideration this is a work of fiction, this doesn't represents the artist's image)

warnings: SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, protected sex, oral (f. receiving), cum eating, quickie but not really, public (?) bathroom sex, mirror sex, reader is quite dom with jake (i can't help myself), mention of alcohol. lmk if i missed something!

wc: 5.4k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire

The air was thick with the scent of luxury – champagne and expensive perfumes mingling with the buzz of the conversations in every corner of the room.

You had your back leaning against the marble counter of the bar, fingers nonchalantly tracing the edge of your vibrant drink and eyes drifting through the sea of people. Everyone was dressed to impress, each guest showcasing their creativity through Prada’s clothes, accessories and shoes.

Working in the fashion industry came with perks, and being invited to exclusive after-parties was undoubtedly the best one. So you weren’t a stranger to this world. The glamourist atmosphere, the music playing as a soft background, the dim lights casting a perfect blend of elegance and casualness over the place.

It made your body shiver with joy, fulfillment at its most filling your chest, as the surroundings seemed to confirm what you already knew: you were in the right place – your place.

Earlier, at the main event, you watched the showcase with sparkling eyes, recording specific moments to use later as inspiration for your own creativity process. You loved how free you could be with your ideas while doing your work, not to mention the possibility of adding tons of yourself to it. Some might call it an egoistic behavior, as if your job existed solely for your own satisfaction. But the creation was yours, so why shouldn’t the outcome be about you too?

You took another sip of your drink, your sharp gaze scanning the room.

As soon as you stepped at the after-party, many other designers and some artists approached to compliment both your visual and your work, and you confidently talked with them. Yet, coming not from one, but from a few of them, there was an underlying tone; their praises were not solely aimed at your outfit or your impeccable creations, but rather an attempt to carve a path to your heart – or, perhaps, under your dress.

You never denied you had a good appearance. Together with your sense of style and your fearless demeanor, you enchanted anyone who crossed your way. The badass woman aura you exhaled was almost palpable and extremely hot for those who watched – with heart and lustful eyes – as you passed by.

Despite the usual lingering intense gazes on you, far from feeling intimidated or even shy by them, there was one pair of eyes burning deeper, piquing your curiosity as you kept on searching for its owner.

It was like you every motion was being captured by them, following you across the room, and no matter how many conversations you effortlessly maneuvered through, all you could feel was the constant, intense weight of the said gaze.

After one more drink and some uninterested noddings at the guy who took place near you at the bar, you finally found him.

Sitting on the middle sofas of the main room, drink in hand, together with his group, devil eyes staring at you shamelessly, biting his lip and looking extremely hot as doing so.

You quirked an eyebrow in his direction, not even bothering to follow the bla-bla-bla coming from the random guy anymore, his words sounding like nothing to you at that point.

Especially because the attractive man looking at you didn’t even flinch after getting caught, as if it was the purpose from the beginning. If anything, he deepened eye contact in a daring, cocky manner, almost challenging you to react over the tension that started to hang in the air between you two.

Unlucky to him, you weren’t the type to follow anyone’s lead but yours, so you simply let out a soft scoff, a smirk tugging at your lips as you deliberately took another sip of your drink without breaking the new unspoken game – the one you were sure you would win.

You observed closely how he drifted his gaze away from yours just to blatantly check you out, stopping on your bare thighs for a moment before doing the same on your exposed chest, the neckline of your dress giving the perfect bait for men like him.

He shifted on his seat, gulping and then assaulting his lower lip with his teeth once more, as if trying to contain himself from running all the way to you, just to undress you properly instead of keep on doing that with his glare.

You would be lying if you said that his demeanor wasn’t helping to ignite the fire from your core to your entire body, skin heating with a hint of desire. Even so, you waited patiently.

The random designer talking to you was long gone already, though you barely noticed, unnecessarily engrossed in your little game.

With a subtle, innocent tilt of your chin, you motioned your head slowly as a signal, beckoning him to come closer, without breaking eye contact. The simple gesture caught him off guard; his confident atmosphere stumbling to keep itself up, eyes growing wide in surprise, and you found it irresistibly adorable.

The corner of your lips curled when he stood up after whispering something to one of his friends, who quickly glanced at you and then showed a small smile. You finished your drink as he made his way over, his steps relaxed, but his eyes avoiding yours. You almost chuckled at the endearing scene.

As he approached, you noticed how young he seemed to be, perhaps even younger than you. Not to mention his incredible inebriating fragrance and self beauty – the plump pink lips and the high bridge nose perfectly sculpted doing things to you.

“Hey,” he greeted, eyes straightaway dropping to your exposed neckline, lingering on the curve of your chest.

You leaned in just slightly, making sure he got a better view, batting your lashes with a sly smile. “Hey.”

Without asking for your preference, he ordered two drinks. You decided to let it slide for now – being surprised could be fun every now and then, and maybe accepting his drinks could be one of the keys to get something more.

“You’ve been turning heads all night.” He finally said after a while, the hot, aussie accent didn’t go unnoticed by you. Your body heat increased as an immediate response.

As you tilted your head slightly, letting a small smile play on your lips, you smoothly replied with faux innocence. “Have I?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, thanking the bartender for the drink as he handed you one, oblivious of the rhetorical question. Your smile widened. “Can I know your name?”

“Y/N,” you politically extended your hand, eyes sharp on his face. His grip was hesitant, and the moment your fingers touched, an unexpected jolt of electricity shot through your body. You suppressed a slight shiver.

“Jake,” he introduced himself, caring little to nothing about showing how affected he got just by feeling your soft palm on his.

His breath hitched, getting caught on his throat as his eyes darkened. He couldn’t help but think about how your touch would feel elsewhere on his body.

The excitement flooded your chest instantly, you had to hold back yourself because you realized that if you wanted – and you so did – those perfect lips would be attached to yours in no time, and if you were lucky enough, they would be exploring other parts of your body as well.

“Nice meeting you, Jake.” You murmured, pronouncing his name with your most velvety voice, slowly pulling your hand away to grab your drink from the counter, sipping it.

Jake tracked your deliberate movements, wetting his slightly parted lips when he saw your red lipstick staining on the glass edge, utterly in disbelief he simply discovered someone who definitely came out from his wettest dreams, who would turn the smallest, innocent gesture into something sensual.

Even the simple act of blinking in his direction seemed meticulously calculated to make it hard to resist your advances, fueling the growing tightness inside his pants.

Not to mention how sexy his name rolled out of your beautifully tinted lips.

Jake leaned his arms on the marble counter, turning his head to keep on watching you, as if your presence were an alluring, tempting show, happening right in front of his eyes just to damage his weak heart.

“I couldn’t stop looking at you.” He blurted out shamelessly, shattering the ‘cool’ facade he was trying to maintain under your intense gaze.

There was something about how sincere, seductive, and yet, desperate he sounded, as if his greatest longing in life was to have you right away. You were enjoying that guy so much so far.

“I’ve noticed,” you chuckled with your eyes brimming with flirtation, shifting between his plush, kissable lips and his desire-filled orbs. “And are you planning to keep just looking?”

Jake blinked, momentarily taken aback with your quick and direct response. Although you had an obvious confident aura radiating through your pores, he definitely didn't expect you to be so straight to the point, thinking he would have to ease things a bit more.

And honestly? He found your vibe more exciting than he would like to admit.

“I guess that depends on what you want,” he answered, voice dropping a tone, trying to match the energy you exuded.

Ignoring the chills running through your spine by his low murmur, you softly chuckled and leaned back against the bar, gaze still locked with his.

“Oh, Jake,” you teasingly cooed, grinning, with your voice dripping with amusement, “I always get what I want.”

It was visibly apparent how your words ignited something on his body, perking up in anticipation while his eyes deepened and his jaw clenched; if you looked close enough, you would see the slight bulge in his crotch area.

Jake straightened his posture, finishing his drink in one go without breaking eye contact, hooded eyelids offering you the most magnetic sight you saw that night until that moment.

Then he leaned in closer, the tension between you two increasing with every heartbeat. “Meet me in the bathroom,” he whispered in your ear, a cocky smirk creeping onto his face.

As he walked towards the restroom area, his confident stride only added to the thrill. Men would be promising you the best night of your life just to leave you hanging and dealing with your situation alone. However, Jake seemed to exude an air of boldness blended perfectly with devotion, making a rush of anticipation bubbling in your core.

You let out a small laugh, not even caring about finishing your drink. The thrilling game had just started and you were so ready to play.

Jake’s lips tasted like heaven. And fancy liquor.

His hands were everywhere, but mainly on your ass and neck, his desperation evident by the way he pressed your back into the cold wall, sucking your lips as if his life depended on it.

After following his traces, feigning indifference as best as you could to the open public, it took mere seconds before you felt his strong grasp on your hips guiding you into the bathroom – fortunately, they had private, separated spaces, making it easier for the two of you to steal as much privacy as the party allowed.

You could hear the muffled hum of the songs playing as a background, merging with the lewd sounds from the messy, hungry kiss you both shared and the soft groans rumbling from Jake’s throat as well.

Just minutes ago your plans were completely different; just some kisses and calling it a night, definitely not imagining things going further than that. However, the way Jake’s mouth skilfully moved against yours made you wonder how good it would feel in other places of your body, like in between your legs, and you just had to give it a chance.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, barely breaking the contact, lips already swollen and reddened due to your lipstick and your not so gentle bites.

You hummed in response, unable to form proper words about how amazing of a job he was doing just by kissing you.

Your fingers tangled in his silky brown hair, tugging without restraint because you quickly realized how much Jake liked it. He moaned, lips parting against yours with the intensity of the pull, your hazed gaze catching a quick glimpse of his eyes rolling back – an extremely devilish view.

Although stumbling a bit, Jake managed to easily place you at the edge of the sink’s counter by lifting you firmly gripping your thighs, the feeling alone making you wince as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist for support.

The room seemed to shrink as your breaths quickened, the boiling sensation bubbling in your stomach as you anticipated for more of his intense, heated, passionate touches.

Jake, just as breathless, decided to assault the flesh of your neck and exposed collarbone, getting drunk on your scent and softness as he did so, loving how you tilted your head just enough to give him some more access to explore.

A soft moan escaped your lips and your fingers tightened on his hair when he nibbled your sensitive spot, close to your earlobe, sending jolts of electricity directly to your pussy.

You could feel a smirk creeping into his mouth, right before he questioned teasingly, slowly sucking the area. “Do you like that?”

You fought to keep your composure, a soft smile threatening to break through as the heat blossomed in your core. His breath tickled your skin, deliberately waiting for your answer while igniting every inch of you by keeping on playing on that spot.

The first reaction you gave was another moan together with your nails digging on his shoulders and scratching his scalp. Then you admitted, still struggling to hold yourself back. “Fuck, yes. I do.”

Jake cooed at you, gently pulling away from the curve of your neck to study your dazed expression; lips agape releasing heavy breaths, cheeks flushed with a delicate pink and eyes half-lidded, fluttering slowly, still dripping in the same confidence you once carried, as if even under his lead you were the one commanding.

“You look hot and messy, and I haven’t even started yet.” Jake teased, a playful smile gracing his lips as he pressed them against yours again.

“Do you always talk that much?” You murmured, not quite intending to judge his demeanor, but a bit annoyed and amused by how he appeared to need to hear you frequently while savoring you.

“Only when I'm nervous.” Jake answered honestly with an awkward chuckle, helping you to remove his jacket, which landed straight on the ground and he couldn’t care less.

“Oh, do I make you nervous Jakey?” You smirked, thirsting over his now exposed veiny arms.

Watching Jake’s cheeks being painted with a faint blush while he swallowed hard under your sharp gaze, clearly getting flustered, brought back the control you thought was lost.

“Maybe a little,” Jake tried to play it cool, but his voice came out smaller than he expected, and he tried to avoid facing you by leaning to kiss you again.

A glint of mischief sparkled in your eyes when you noticed he was losing his composure. You kindly held his head still, forcing him to keep his gaze on you. “Aw, come on, Jakey. Don’t shy away now,” you said, a smooth voice layered with playfulness and a sultry, almost mocking undertone. “You haven’t even started yet, isn’t that right?”

Jake nearly moaned when he heard your words, not because of them itself but by how hot you sounded. His cock throbbed painfully inside his pants, his underwear probably stained with his leaking precum at that point.

Jake got fooled at some moment by thinking he was the one in charge, even provoking you while exploring your desires initially, but the reality was that he had been following your lead like a lost puppy all along.

There was something about how confident and dominant you seemed to be since the beginning, not faltering a single moment to his boldness, and somehow you carried that still, assuming the control gracefully, as if it was your job. And Jake was very grateful for you doing so.

His eyes softened and his breath hitched.

“Tell me, what do you want from me?” The question slipped from his plush, beautiful lips, laced with desire and a touch of vulnerability without much cohesive thinking, clouded mind craving to satisfy you, because that meant his own fulfillment. “I wanna give you everything.”

Devoting to a devilish goddess like you was a tempting surrender he was eager to embrace.

You felt a pulse straight in your clit and your cheeks heating, the weight of his desperate words triggering your following behavior.

Jake saw the way your face brightened up, realizing he had opened the hell’s gate and he was eager to enter – if you were the personification of the devil, he was more than willing to drown into your lustful, tempting sea of sins.

“What do I want from you?” You echoed, an amused grin curling the corner of your lips as your eyes traced Jake’s attractive features, pausing on his perfectly sculpted high-bridged nose, accompanied just below by his tasteful lips. You smiled, caressing it with your thumb. “I want them. Eat me out.”

Jake’s breath got caught on his throat and his eyes grew in a slight surprise, not only due to your bold, straightforward request, but mainly because the idea of having your pussy in full display for him to play sounded too dreamy.

“Are you sure?” He asked in a low, contained voice, struggling to keep down his excitement, biting his lower lip, aiming to confirm he wasn’t going insane.

“I know what I want, Jake.” You cocked your head with a raised eyebrow. “And you?”

Jake’s eyes immediately dropped to your chest and then your bare thighs. The dress had ridden up due to the position so he was able to see a hint of your laced, black panties. He wet his lips, mouth watering while he lowered enough to bend comfortably and be eye level with your cunt.

You watched, fascinated by how in trance he seemed to be, as though your final word was the cue for him to dive into you completely.

Your stomach fluttered in anticipation as you propped yourself up to help Jake slide your panties down your legs, gentle hands caressing your smooth skin as he did so. Then he grabbed your ass and pulled you forward, shooting you a quick glance and smile before burying his face between your legs, the smell of your pussy intoxicating his senses.

He first gave it a small, slow kitty-lick, testing the waters, then frowned in pleasure, groaning with your delicious taste dissolving on his tongue.

A soft gasp slipped from your lips and you quickly pursed them to stifle the sounds threatening to escape, fighting the urge of allowing yourself to let go so easily. One of your hands searched for support on the edge of the counter and the other held on tight to Jake’s hair.

Jake gave a long, savoring lick, finishing with a delectable, lewd sucking noise in your clit, as if he was starting to make out with your pussy. Your mouth fell open and your eyes fluttered shut, your limbs feeling like jelly as a wave of weakness coursed through you.

His hot muscle started to work faster, steadier and precise in between your folds, your entrance and your sensitive bundle of nerves, giving each of them the right amount of attention.

“Holy shit, Jake,” you moaned shakily, unable to keep it low. “You’re so fucking good at this,” you threw your head back, unconsciously waving your body towards his face, practically griding on it.

Jake moaned with your praise, skilfully shaking his head whenever he flickered his tongue in your hole, just to rub your clit with his nose, before moving back to suck on it, entirely immersed on his duty to please you.

He was on cloud nine.

Your taste flooding his senses, your body reacting to his stimulus, heating up and shivering under his precise touch, your pretty moans filling up the space straight into his ears, like angels singing – though he was sure you were a devil in disguise.

Every noise coming from your throat was sending a rush of electricity directly into his dick, not to mention how your cunt became wetter and wetter with the lewd mixture of his own saliva and your arousal. Jake could die that moment and would be happy with it.

Reading the way your breathing grew heavy and feeling how you clenched around the tip of his tongue, Jake deduced you were near to the edge.

“I’m close–” You whispered, confirming his theory.

The knot on your stomach tightened when Jake began to focus mainly on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue on it, eager for your release – perhaps more than you. “I’m really close, Jak–”

Your arms nearly failed to keep yourself up as your orgasm hit, a long moan falling from your mouth interrupting your warning, your spine arching with the euphoria wave and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your juices coated Jake’s tongue, who took all of it proudly; you hissed feeling his mouth still working on your sensitive cunt, and you pulled him away by his hair.

Without a word Jake brought his lips to yours, making you taste yourself still hazy minded after your strucking climax. You groaned, slowly starting to move your hips to get down from the counter, Jake unconsciously helping you through it by supporting your weight until your heels landed on the floor.

You lightly pushed Jake’s chest to move him away, meeting his dazed expression, one that had nothing to do with the alcohol in his veins. You grabbed the hem of his black shirt, quietly asking for him to remove it. And he did without hesitation.

"Fuck me," you demanded, taking a glimpse of his beautiful toned abs, a bit out of breath and even needier now. "Fuck me and watch you doing it through this mirror."

Jake flashed a quick grin, still recovering from the smothering and delightful feeling of being in between your legs, before fumbling with his belt, hands frantic undoing the button of his pants to slide them down.

You took your sweet time to thirst over the outline of his covered, extremely hard length, interrupting his actions by gripping his wrist, savoring the moment as you licked your lips, mouth watering.

“It’s a shame we cannot take much longer,” you started, fauxing innocence as you stepped closer just enough to touch him over his white boxers. A small, provocative chuckle coming from your throat before you murmured. “Really wanted to feel you in my mouth.” And then you kissed the corner of his parted lips.

Jake whimpered when you softly squeezed his neglected dick, leaning closer to you instinctively, holding onto the edge of the counter behind you while resting his sweaty forehead on your shoulder. His breath was heavy against your skin, where he pressed his lips a few times until reaching your earlobe, nibbling.

Your sneaky hands entered the hem of his clothing piece to jerk him off; your teasing, deliberate moves were driving him insane. The way your warm palm rubbed his sensitive tip made his groans increase just as much as his pulse, and he moaned a bit louder when you finally freed his aching dick out of his boxers by pushing them down, allowing your hand to pump his shaft easier.

With closed eyes, you enjoyed the waves of pleasure going down, directly to your cunt, making you wet again by hearing Jake’s sultry noises and hot breath brushing against your ear.

Your lips grazed along his jawline at the same time you threatened your fingers through his slightly dampened hair, disheveling it even more before pulling it away from the curve of your neck, so you could capture his mouth in a slow, passionate kiss.

"Condom?" You asked under breath after parting away from his mouth, slowing your hand on his dick. You noticed his body tensing right after your question, eyes growing wide in panic, which piqued your curiosity.

There’s no way he…

"Shit, I didn't bring–"

You let out a soft scoff, part laughter, part disbelief. Without missing a beat, your hands resumed their movement, this time teasing him by randomly stopping, repeating the motion a few times. His moans grew louder, hips bucking desperately against your hand as if seeking more, his mouth agape and eyes glistening with despair.

"What a naughty boy," you cooed, slowly shaking your head in a false disappointment. "Were you planning on going raw with me, Jakey?" You questioned, voice low, layered with playfulness.

Jake winced, desperation growing inside his chest, fearing you to leave him now, when he needed you the most.

"N-No..." He shook his head, “I wasn’t– I forgot, I’m sorr–”

"Unluckily we just met.” You interrupted. “I don't know you well enough to let you do that. Right?"

Jake nodded, though he wasn't sure if he was truly following your words. You were loving to see him falling apart so easily, almost begging for you not to leave him through his messy moans.

His breath hitched and he almost grabbed your hand in place when you let go from his hard, red and needy cock. "P–please…" He finally pleaded, holding your waist as his eyes searched for yours in complete despair.

You quirked an eyebrow, smirking at his endearing demeanor. "Aw, you really wanna fuck me, don't you?" You caressed his cheek with your clean hand, smiling.

“I really do,” Jake whispered, moving his head just enough to kiss your palm. “Please, let me–”

“Not without protection, Jakey,” you said firmly, although with a hint of teasing, because you had a way out of that situation without harming your health.

And the said solution was inside your purse, which got tossed on the ground at some point of your initial make out session with Jake.

Jake's puppy sad eyes followed your every motion when you moved his hands off of your waist, thinking he had messed up completely. But then he saw you grabbing your bag and taking a condom off of it, showing to him with a playful grin.

"And lucky to us, I'm always prepared, Jakey.”

You slowly approached him again, his gaze catching the alluring sight of you gently opening the packaging using your teeth, while your eyes confidently remained locked onto his, loving to see his bewildered expression.

Without a word, you slid the condom on his length, stroking it a few times before turning your back to him, bending over the counter and lifting your dress, revealing the beautiful view of your bare ass.

Jake’s firm hands instinctively gripped your hips and he positioned himself behind you while biting his lip in anticipation, the thrilling excitement boiling stronger in his cock.

He searched for your eyes in the mirror in front of you two, and of course you were already looking at him through your hungry orbs, savoring the image of Jake’s craving your body.

"Now fuck me as desperate as you seem to be."

Your words hung in the air for seconds before Jake’s mind snapped away from your tempting view in the mirror; your boobs nearly jumping out of your neckline, lips swollen but carrying the same confidence, and your eyes. Your fucking eyes. Your devilish eyes.

“Your desire is my pleasure, Y/N.” It was all Jake managed to say with his low, husky voice, before pushing deep into you.

Your mouth fell open with the breathtaking sensation of being filled up, and Jake began to slowly pump into you, giving you a little time to adjust. Or you thought so.

You still had no idea that he was already stepping near the edge of his own release, that being the reason for his deliberate hip rolls – there was no way in hell he was going to let the opportunity of enjoying your delicious squeezes around his dick slip away that easily.

“F–fuck,” his voice cracked as he whispered. “You f–feel amazing...”

You looked at Jake in the mirror after hearing how weakly his words came out, as if he were already lost in a haze of his own pleasure. And he truly was. A soft moan escaped your lips at the sight of his head tilted back, eyes closed, and mouth slightly parted, a faint smile gracing his lips.

When a specific deep thrust hit your g-spot, you almost cried out and Jake quickly paid attention to it. Then he bent you even more on the marble counter with one hand forcing your back, to ease his access to your sensitive area and help with his movements, speeding his hips the right amount to make you roll your eyes.

“T–that’s it...” You moaned. “Fucking me so good.” You praised and Jake groaned, his hands immediately sliding to cup one of your covered breasts, massaging it while keeping his pace, eyes locked at the insanely delightful view in the mirror.

A sequence of moans slipped out of your throat as Jake started fucking you hard and fast, desperately even. How your walls clenched tight around his cock was driving him insane, and he seeked for more of that addicting feeling.

The sound of the distant music did nothing to cover the slams sounds echoing the bathroom at that point, and honestly, neither of you cared anymore, far gone in your own pleasure.

At some point your own body started to encounter his pushes into you, but it wasn’t enough. So you straightened your posture a bit, tugging Jake’s hair while looking at his eyes in the mirror – his fucked up expression sending shivers down your spine.

“Faster, Jake.” You urged, a bossy tone dripping out of your mouth like a sweet sugar that Jake grew obsessed with. And he instantly obeyed.

Your free hand cupped Jake’s on your boob and your eyes fluttered close while you tilted your head back, lost in the amazing feeling of Jake pounding into your g-spot, a mess of moans and whimpers coming from both of your mouths.

Since he had his eyes open, Jake watched your body quivering with his thrusts, the fucking Prada logo on your dress shining with the dim light of the bathroom, your makeup slightly smeared due to the mess. It was completely out of this world how good you looked, and the way you were squeezing his dick together with the view, sent him even closer to the edge.

“I’m gonna cum–” He said in one go, as an eager statement, not a warning, desperate to feel his release.

Your breath started to quicken with his erratic pace, and you fluttered your eyes open again, catching the sight of Jake’s concentrated frown and mouth agape, letting out the prettiest moans you ever heard.

You said nothing, you just tightly gripped the hand on your chest and leaded it to your clit, inciting him to rub it for you. Jake got your message, and with all the overwhelming stimulus, your second orgasm hit, mouth falling open gasping for air as you supported yourself on the marble counter, your head falling forward while you kept on feeling Jake’s deep thrusts.

You clenched involuntarily around his dick, and that was enough for him to achieve his climax as well, resting his head on your shoulder, holding you close still.

Jake moved back with a hiss, completely dizzy and fulfilled. He removed the condom and tossed it onto the trashcan before dressing himself back again, helping you to recompose since your legs were shaky.

“Thank you,” you said in a hoarse voice when he offered you your purse and your panties, to which you decided not to wear again because, well, it was on the floor.

So you cheekily pushed into Jake’s pocket without saying a word, and he didn’t even noticed, too focused on looking out for you by supporting you to keep steady.

You turned to the mirror, fixing your messy hair and makeup as best as you could.

“How do we get out of this bathroom now?” Jake asked after the silence, watching you re-apply your red lipstick.

You just smiled, placing a sweet kiss on his cheek to purposely leave a mark there. “Like this.” And you simply opened the door, not even caring about the instant stares you received as you did so, Jake following your lead right behind, a small shy smile adorning his lips.

With a last goodbye look, you parted ways, your confidence evident in your stride, and Jake fumbling to smooth down his disheveled locks, now with the acknowledgment that the devil definitely wears Prada.

#jake x reader #sim jake x reader #jake smut #jake sim x reader #jake hard thoughts #jake hard hours #jake sim hard thoughts #jake sim hard hours #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #heegyukeluv works

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ariestrxsh · 3 months ago

Text

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, quite a bit of fluff, innocence corruption, masturbation, use of toys, getting caught, handjob (kinda), voyeurism/exhibitionism, religious kink, sexualization of religious imagery, slow burn, mommy kink (sorry lol), sub!virgin!matt, experienced!pervy!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 author's note: dont read this if you're religious - it will offend you. this is part two of me & u. you can read part one here. 💖 there will be more parts to this story, so stick around. also, disclaimer: don't spy on people and watch them without their permission. 😭 this is just fantasy.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: after getting to know and hanging out with the innocent, virgin christian boy who recently moved in next door, he starts exploring his sexuality with you, and the two of you start falling in love with each other.

me & u part two

"Your mom wasn't mad that you were smoking, was she?" Matt timidly asked you through the phone later on that day as he was rifling through kitchen appliances and finding a place to store them.

"No, I'm an adult. She doesn't care what I do. She was calling me in for lunch," you snorted, tugging at a loose thread on your blanket while you laid on your bed, still in your fairy dress and laying down with your feet kicking behind you.

Matt was thankful your mom wasn't upset with you, but he was annoyed that your first kiss with him was interrupted by something as menial as lunch.

"Well, what did you eat?" Matt wondered, trying to find a way to ask you to hang out again. "Just a sandwich and some macaroni," you told him. "W-what kind of sandwich?" Matt stammered, beating around the bush.

"Did you really call me to hear me talk about a turkey sandwich?" You chuckled. "I mean, I wanted to hear about your sandwich and to see if you wanted to hang out again," Matt shyly replied, biting his nails.

"Depends. What did you have in mind?" You inquired, teasing him and knowing you were going to say yes regardless of what he suggested the two of you do.

"We could go buy paint for my room. You could help me pick out a color," Matt said, hoping you'd say yes. "I'd love that. I'll be over soon. I just need to shower and get out of these clothes," you replied, smiling at how cute Matt sounded through the phone.

He couldn't help but picture you slipping out of your fairy dress.

"O-okay. Cool, I-I'll see you soon," Matt tripped over his words as you two hung up the phone. You put on a black tank top and a pair of jean shorts after your hasty shower, and you hurried over, eager to see Matt again.

You knocked on his door and patiently waited for him to answer. He was in a solid black t-shirt and jeans, and he was wearing a silver chain around his neck with a cross on it. "Ready to go?" You asked him, looking him up and down. "Yeah, let's go," Matt said, smiling at you and pulling his front door closed behind him.

On the ride to go pick out paint, Matt kept stealing glances at you at stoplights and stop signs, wondering if it would be the right time to try and re-do your first kiss, but every time he thought about leaning in, it felt too forced.

You could feel this, the way he was desperately looking for a chance to press his lips against yours, but you knew the perfect time would come again, and you didn't want to rush it.

You liked making him wait, but this didn't mean you weren't going to relentlessly tease him.

"Are you dying to hear how hard I came with my new toy?" You smirked over at Matt who looked back over at you wide-eyed. "Y-you already used it?" Matt studdered. "No. But I figured you were wondering if I had," you teased him. He blushed and grinned.

"I actually wanted to wait until I could use it in front of you," you admitted, your voice dripping with lust as you peered over at him and raised an eyebrow. "W-what?" He struggled to get out.

It was far too much fun to watch him blush and fidget. You couldn't get enough of his flushed, pink cheeks, his puppy dog eyes, and the desperate expression that would subtly make itself known everytime you'd tease him. And you knew just what to do and say to elicit these kinds of responses from him.

Once you guys stumbled upon a local store that sold paint, the two of you wandered over to the earth tones. "Now, really take your time making this decision. This is going to be the color of the paint in your room. You're going to have to see it every day," you told Matt when you saw all the different options they had.

Matt was scanning through different swatches of all the cool-toned paints when one caught his attention. "I like this one," he told you, pointing at the dark green shade on the page. "I love that color," you responded, taking the swatch from him and looking on the wall for the matching paint. "I think I found it," you told him, smiling and picking up a bucket.

Matt grabbed a second bucket of paint, a few paint brushes, some plastic covering, and the two of you paid for it all and left the store. "I'm so excited," Matt told you, his eyes lighting up as he spoke.

The two of you rode home in a comfortable silence, and you helped Matt carry the paint up the stairs to his room. You two decided to go your separate ways for the night to go eat dinner and get ready for bed, so you'd be well-rested for the next day.

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon line, illuminating the summer evening as Matt walked you to your doorstep. "I had fun with you today," Matt told you, his eyes fixed on yours. "I did, too," you replied.

"Maybe tomorrow you could paint it with me. You know, unless you have other plans," Matt shrugged, trying to hide how disappointed he would be if you did. "You know, I'm sorry. I'm busy tomorrow. I'm helping the hot neighbor boy paint his room," you jokingly replied.

He chuckled at your response, and then he pulled you into a long hug. You smiled against his chest, savoring how it felt to hold him, and when you went to pull away, you glanced up at him lovingly.

The two of you felt that familiar magnetic pull, and he leaned down until his lips were gently locked onto yours. His kiss was soft and tender, like his personality, and you both felt that spark that you'd always heard people talk about but hadn't experienced up until this point.

He reached up and cradled your face, lightly running his thumb back and forth over your cheek. Your tongue gently swirled around against his, and for how inexperienced he was, he was an incredible kisser. He moaned against your lip before the two of you slowly pulled away.

You were both even more smitten than before. Matt blushed, and you let out a soft giggle. "I'll see you tomorrow," you whispered as you slipped into your front door.

Matt stayed put on your porch for a few minutes, buzzing from the intimate moment he'd just shared with you, and he slowly made his way back to his house, tucking his erection into his waistband that he got from kissing you.

Later that night, after eating a delicious dinner, taking a steamy shower, and brushing your teeth, you switched out your lamp and got into your warm bed. A few seconds after you climbed into your bed to finish off your day, Matt's light came on across the way.

You watched again as he stepped out of his bathroom in just a towel, running his fingers through his wet hair. He looked so hot. You held your breath as the fabric around his waist hit the floor.

You'd imagined Matt naked at least a dozen times since you'd met him, and you were finally seeing it in person. And although you weren't getting a close-up view, you could see his hard member standing at attention. And it was big.

You didn't believe in God, but you did thank whoever was out there listening as you watched Matt climb onto his bed, lay on top of his blanket, and begin to stroke himself.

You hoped he was thinking about you, and he was. He was replaying the moment you two had kissed.

You continued peering in through his window, admiring the way he tenderly ran his thumb over the tip, causing him to throw his head back. He kept his movements slow and drawn out at first, teasing himself.

You couldn't hear the sounds he was making, but you couldn't stop imagining his needy little whimpers. You intently focused on the way he fisted his gorgeous cock, guiding his hand up and down his shaft and his strokes becoming faster, rougher, and more urgent.

You spied on him for several minutes, unable to shift your gaze away from the glorious sight of the cute neighbor boy all alone in his room, tugging on his dick. Your pussy began throbbing and drooling without you even touching it as you kept your eyes locked on Matt and what he was doing to himself.

He started to squirm around beneath his own touch, bucking his hips up, and you watched in awe as several spurts of cum shot out of his tip and painted his stomach and chest.

His hand that was gliding up and down his length slowed to a stop, and he took the towel he'd just used after his shower to wipe himself off. Even the way he cleaned up the mess he made was incredibly sexy.

He put on a pair of pajama pants once he was finished and knelt down by the foot of his bed to pray. The show he put on for you was so hot and naughty that you almost wondered if you should start praying for forgiveness.

Before you could follow that thought too deeply or do anything about the wetness that had pooled between your legs, you found yourself drifting off to sleep while more images of Matt flooded your mind.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

The next morning at about 5 a.m., you groggily rubbed your eyes and let out a yawn. You checked your phone for the time, and when you realized how early it was, you rolled over onto your other side and shut your eyes, hoping to be able to fall back asleep.

When all your efforts failed, you decided to go up to your treehouse, bringing a thin blanket with you for a morning marijuana and masturbation session - the two things that always helped you fall asleep.

You admired the way the sunrise lit up the view from your secret hideaway while you exhaled weed smoke, watching the way it danced and dissipated against the scenery before you. A tranquil state came over you, and you felt all light and airy after a few hits.

Being cautious not to burn yourself with the lit end of your joint, you shimmied out of your underwear and your pajama shorts and spread open your legs. You took your new suction vibrator, turned it on, and gasped as you lowered the buzzing toy onto your clit. It was unlike any vibrator you'd owned before, and it immediately had you moaning and shuddering at the sensation.

"Oh, Matt.." you softly whined over and over while you remembered the night before and the way you'd witnessed him make a mess all over himself. You took another puff from your joint. You were so enthralled by the stimulation and so lost in the way you were needily whining the neighbor boy's name, you didn't realize the man of your fantasies had followed you up to your treehouse and was watching you the same way you'd watched him.

He was already crawling in through the entrance before he realized he was intruding on an intimate moment you were having with yourself. He thought about clearing his throat or forcing out a cough to make his presence known, maybe even turning around and leaving before he could embarrass you, but he held his breath, and all he could do was stay put and admire how pretty and wet your pink pussy was.

It was the first time he'd ever seen anything like it in person, and he couldn't get enough. He grew incredibly hard as he studied the way your eyes were slammed shut and the needy and pleasured expression that overcame your face while you held your lit joint up to your parted lips. "Oh, Matt.." you whimpered again after exhaling the smoke, your legs beginning to quiver.

To Matt's horror, you opened your eyes, and while you were shocked that he was watching you, you didn't stop. "I-I'm so sorry. I woke up and looked out my window, and I saw you going to your treehouse. I thought you could use some company. I had no idea you were-" Matt started defending himself, but you cut him off.

"Shh. Please don't go. It feels so good to have you watching me," you whined with the vibrator still resting on your clit. "You're moaning my name an awful lot.." Matt murmured with his eyes fixated on the treasure between your thighs. You took another hit and slowly nodded at him.

"You like watching, don't you, naughty boy?" You managed to get out between your satisfied mewls. "I do, mommy," Matt whispered back, palming himself through the thin flannel fabric he had on. The way it sounded when Matt called you mommy sent waves of pleasure throughout your whole body. You couldn't take it anymore.

The way he peered down at your pussy with his puppy dog eyes, whimpering alongside you while you were playing with it was too good, and your whole body violently shook as you let out a few more needy moans.

"Holy shit," you and Matt both said in unison as your cum slowly leaked out of your pussy. "Did you just swear?" You asked wide-eyed and sneering at the innocent boy, turning off your toy. He threw his hand over his mouth, giving you a deer in the headlights look. "I-I didn't mean to," he stumbled over his words.

"Naughty, naughty boy," you seductively responded, putting out the joint and shaking your head. You noticed the wet spot on the front of Matt's flannel pajamas. "Did you finish just from watching me?" Your lips curled into a malicious grin. "I mean. I rubbed it a little through my pants, but yeah," Matt said in an embarrassed tone, looking down like he was ashamed.

"Come here, pretty boy," you gestured towards him. You pulled him close and pulled the thin blanket over the both of you. You guys looked into each other's eyes and shared another kiss, each of your lips touching and creating a circuit through which an electric feeling ran through your bodies.

You loved kissing Matt, and he loved kissing you. It was unlike any feeling either of you had felt before. You pulled him in even closer, and the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms in your treehouse as the sun came up.

A couple hours later, you woke up on the hard floor of your treehouse next to the cute neighbor boy who was softly snoring next to you. You didn't want to wake him because he was sleeping so soundly, but all it took was a subtle movement from you, and he began to stir.

"Morning," he softly groaned as he opened his eyes and stretched his arms out overhead. "I had fun with you earlier," you whispered to him, biting your lip. He smiled at you, his cheeks turning pink. "I did, too."

He couldn't get the image of you touching yourself out of his head. All he could think about was your pretty pink flower between your legs and the sound of his name escaping your soft lips.

Like he was most mornings when he first woke up, he was incredibly hard, and he subtly tucked his erection into his waistband, hoping you wouldn't notice, but you did.

"How about we both go change and get ready for the day? Then we can go get coffee? I'll buy," you asked Matt, gently running your fingers across his chest. "Yeah, sure," he whispered. The two of you went your separate ways for a bit, sharing another kiss before you did.

When you got back to your house, you showered, washed your face, and climbed into a pair of washed-out jean shorts and a baggy t-shirt that you wouldn't mind getting paint on. You grabbed a granola bar and an apple on your way out, skipping over to the neighbor boy's house.

Before you could even knock on his door, Matt was turning the knob and stepping out onto his porch. "Hey, long time no see," you told him, eyeing him up and down. He was wearing a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, and your opened your eyes wide when you realized you could see the faint outline of his cock through the cotton fabric.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" Matt asked, teasing you. "You wore these on purpose, didn't you? You little temptress," you responded, nibbling on your lip. "I don't know what you're talking about," Matt casually responded, playing dumb and smirking to himself.

"Why'd you wear something so revealing then, hmm?" You wondered. "Why are you looking, perv?" Matt chuckled, getting into his orange truck.

The two of you started off down the road towards the nearest coffee shop, and as Matt drove, a naughty idea crossed your mind. You peered over at him, running your fingers along the inside of his thigh as he blew through a stop sign due to you distracting him.

He subtly gasped as you grazed his cock that was beginning to harden. It was the first time he'd ever been touched by anyone but himself. "W-what if God's watching?" Matt nervously questioned. "Then God's a little freak," you whispered back, sneering at him.

"You can't say that about God," Matt gasped, peering over at you. "But I just did," you said, poking the inside of your teeth with your tongue. "Please.. do it again," he sweetly whined. "You like that?" You asked, gently squeezing it, eliciting a whimper from the cute boy beside you. He bit his lip and shook his head yes.

"You better keep your eyes on the road, baby," you whispered, gently caressing it with your nails through the grey cotton that was beginning to strain. Before you knew it, the reactions you were getting from Matt as you teased his sensitive dick were getting to you. You felt your panties become all wet and sticky as Matt softly moaned beside you, using all his strength to pay attention to the road.

He approached a red light and gripped the steering wheel for dear life before letting out a loud groan. "Naughty boy. Like when mommy plays with you?" You asked seductively, moving your hand back and forth faster. "Oh, yes, mommy," he cried out.

He couldn't stop what was about to happen next. It was the first time anyone besides himself had ever given him that incredible release, and he let out a desperate mewl as he coated the inside of his pant leg with his cum.

"Wow. That was fast," you teased him. He looked over at you breathlessly with his glazed over blue eyes. "I tried to hold back as much as I could. I'm sorry," Matt responded quietly in a shameful tone, looking down at the mess he'd made in his sweats. "I know you did, baby. You did so good for me," you whispered, cradling his face and looking at him sympathetically.

The light switched to green, and he continued driving, embarrassed by how quickly he'd finished. "Well, I guess we're going through the drive thru," Matt stated, still blushing at the obvious wet spot.

He ordered the two of you coffee from the driver's side, for you, a frozen caramel drink and for himself, a black coffee, and you paid for it like you said you would. Matt thanked you for the coffee as well as the over-the-pants handjob you'd given him, and the two you made your way back to Matt's to get started on painting his room.

When you arrived back, you and Matt slipped into his house and up the stairs without alerting his dad, for which Matt was extremely grateful, so he wouldn't have to come up with an excuse as to why there was a questionable damp spot on the front of his sweats.

"I have to change my underwear for the second time today because of you. So scram," Matt told you, gesturing for you leave the room while he changed. "Oh, relax. I've already seen it," you shrugged and rolled your eyes.

"What?" Matt asked, widening his gaze in your direction. "Oh. Um," you innocently smiled at him. "What do you mean by that?" He asked. "I have a confession to make," you mumbled. Matt stayed quiet, but he looked at you intently, waiting for your admission.

You glanced across the way at your bedroom window. "So, my room is right there, and I can kind of see everything you do from the comfort of my bed," you pointed at the spot you watched him from last night, smirking and recalling how good he looked while getting off.

"You've been spying on me?" Matt asked accusingly, narrowing his blue eyes at you. "Not spying! I just happened to look up, and you dropped your towel," you said defensively.

"Oh, no. Did you see anything else?" Matt nibbled on his lip and shot you a nervous expression. "I might have watched you jerk off," you snickered. "I can't believe you watched me!" Matt exclaimed, feeling violated.

"And you're telling me that this morning when you walked in on me in my treehouse that you wouldn't have watched me until I finished if I didn't know you could see me?" You raised an eyebrow at him and crossed your arms. "Ugh. Fine. I guess I get it," Matt voice became softer as he realized his hypocrisy.

"Plus, I thought it was really hot," you said in a lustful voice while your gaze was fixed on his pink lips. "I'm still changing in the bathroom," Matt smiled at you, grabbing a change of clothes and heading into the other room, loudly locking the door behind him.

When he came back out, he was in some old jeans that already had some paint on them. The two of you started opening up the cans and setting down plastic and newspapers to keep the paint off the floor. Matt knew he was going to love the color the second he dipped the brush in the dark green liquid and began stirring it around.

"Oh my god. It's gonna look so good!" You told Matt after you painted a stripe on the white wall. "I already love it. Especially because we're painting it together," he looked over at you and grinned. You continued coating the wall in the first layer of dark green while you and Matt talked.

"So, did you write in your diary about me last night?" You teased him. "Shut up," he scoffed at you. "That's no way to talk to a lady," you said, taking your brush and slapping paint onto his arm. He gasped and pulled back.

"Oh, there's nothing lady-like about you," Matt replied, taking his paint brush and touching your face with it. You looked at him in disbelief. "You're right. You're more of a lady than me," you said, sticking your hand in the paint and slapping Matt on the ass, leaving a dark green handprint on his back pocket.

The two of you started laughing until your cheeks hurt and your stomachs started aching. Matt pulled you into another kiss, and you smiled against his soft lips as the two of you explored the inside of each other's mouths, leaving one another with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

Before the two of you could get too carried away, Matt broke off the kiss, and you got back to painting until you'd covered every wall in an even coat of dark green. You guys looked at each other, proud of the work you'd done together.

"You know, I don't usually fall for people this easy, but I really like you," you admitted to Matt once the two of you had finished and were sitting on his plastic-covered floor. "I don't usually fall for weed-smoking peeping toms, but I like you, too," Matt teased you.

part three posted 💖

taglist: @gabri3la-sturns @lowkeyobsessedwthesturniolos @starzinasblog @mattsturns09 @sluttt4matt @heartsforsturniolo567 @nomusic-nodreams @freakbob15 @valkatriee @lyla-rose05 @savannah00 @shadowthesim @clara-sangster @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @munchingmini @butterbean-01 @coolasice01 @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @new2024cats4life @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @jaysturniolo @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew bernard sturniolo

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redwinelew · 1 month ago

Text

partition | lewis hamilton

social media au. southeast asian!sugar baby!reader

summary — you were supposed to be hidden. but when the secret is out, lewis cannot help but flaunt you for the rest of the world to see.

face claim — zahara davis

song — partition by beyoncé

warnings — a little smutty, suggestive, reader is 23 so HUGE AGE GAP, reader is implied to be indonesian, pls lmk what i missed

author's note — this was so fun to make! pls reblog if u enjoy this and comment what u think i should improve. as always requests are open!! <33

all pictures taken from pinterest. credit to owners.

twitter!

instagram!

liked by treaclychild, realbarbarapalvin and 10,253 others

ynln back in home 🌴💚

view all 4,027 comments

user1 IS THAT LEWIS HAMILTON?!??!!!?!

user2 she's so brave for posting his pic lol

user3 no way she doesn't know about the rumor already 😭😭

user4 user3 i'm sorry what rumor?

user3 user4 she might be lewis hamilton's sugar baby

user4 user3 LEWIS HAMILTON?? AS IN THE F1 GUY????jesus christ

user3 user4 ikr lmfao

user5 user3 user4 why are yall acting like it's a bad thing lol

yesly pretty

ynln yesly ily

user6 GET THAT BAG (AND DICK) SIS 🗣️‼️

twitter!

messages!

instagram!

liked by jennaortega, florencepugh and 100,379 others

indegoblack me and my sayang (sweetheart) @.ynln

view all 26,739 comments

user1 SAYANG?!!!?!???!!?

user2 THE WAY HE STRAIGHT UP HARD LAUNCHING HER OMFG 😭😭

juser3 i thought she was just his sugar baby????

user4 user3 i don't think that's the dynamic they're having anymore i think these two are officially a romantic couple now 😭😭 so happy for them though

user5 is it just me or this post feels a little weird like the news was spread and now he's announcing that they're dating???? how do we know it's real or that he's just trying to cover everything up

user6 oh to be sir lewis hamilton's sugar baby then his actual gf...... god me and who

messages!

instagram!

liked by iamrebeccad, kennedyclairewalsh and 193,478 others

ynln we didn't even make it to the club — as beyoncé once said

tagged lewishamilton

view all 17,377 comments

user1 THE CAPTION OH MY GOD????

user2 oh she tagged his main.... it's official OFFICIAL

user3 she really won in life

user4 oh to be ynln

lewishamilton ripping that dress off of you was fun

ynln lewishamilton buy me more so you can do it again

user5 ynln lewishamilton IN PUBLIC??????

alex_albon woah

lilymhe alex_albon behave

user6 f1 wag really said hot girls only

user7 idk if i want to be him or her or be with them or want them to adopt me or

user8 user7 this is so real

taglist — @b0r3dtod3ath @actuallyazriel @isagrace22

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vivwritesfics · 9 months ago

Text

Military Flyover

The dagger squad don't want to do a military flyover of the Las Vegas grand Prix. None of them really knew much about and, those that did only really knew about Nascar.

She hated the Vegas Grand Prix as much as those doing the military flyover. But the cute WSO there to support his friends was making it bearable.

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x F1 driver!reader

5.6K

a/n: yes a military flyover doesn't make sense for vegas buuuut let a girl dream lol - i'm hoping I've managed to write this for an audience that might not really know f1 but idk how confident i am in my abilities lol

Bob couldn't quite believe what the two time Top Gun graduates were having to do. They had completed an insanely dangerous mission and returned to be permanently stationed in San Diego, except from when they were called away for deployment.

They were a part of the military, why were they doing this?

Well, at least Bob didn't have to actually fly. He was a Weapon Systems Officer, he didn't have to take part in this. But he still went, more to morally support his squad.

Nat wasn't happy about have to do a military flyover of the Las Vegas Grand Prix. She, Bradley and Jake were constantly complaining. None of them knew anything about Formula One, not enough to appreciate doing the flyover.

(May I just say, even if they did know about F1, they still wouldn't appreciate it. They'd train for years to be in the navy and now they were having to waste their time on this.)

The flyover was on the Sunday. Only Natasha, Jake and Bradley were taking part. Bob didn't have to go, didn't have to visit the track on the Friday and the Saturday with the three of them.

But Natasha had begged him. "Drive up with me," she'd said to him. "It's five hours and I could use the company."

So, Bob agreed. His dad had sometimes watched Nascar while he was growing up. He didn't know much of anything about motorsport but, if Nat wanted him there, he'd go.

The navy pilots didn't know they'd been invited to meet the drivers. Bob followed Natasha through the paddock. "Getting to meet the drivers might be the only good thing thing to come from this," Nat mumbled as she led the way.

The paddock was buzzing with life. There were cameras following people around, interviews happening as they walked through the paddock. Fans stopped men in team shirts and hats for pictures before letting them continue.

There was a familiar whistle, just loud enough for Natasha and Bob to hear over the crowd around them. They turned and saw Rooster and Hangman striding towards them.

"Where are we meant to be?" Asked Hangman as Rooster pulled off his aviators and looked around. The three of them (Natasha, Jake and Bradley) were in their overalls, looking proper in their uniform. Bob, though. He was dressed down, wearing jeans and a sweater (Vegas really wasn't that warm this time of year), his military issued glasses sitting on his nose. He looked cute, even if he didn't know it.

"Cyclone said the Ferrari garage, right?" She said as she looked between the other aviators. Bob, who had studied the itinerary, nodded his head and the four of them set off towards the red garage.

***

The Las Vegas Grand Prix was a joke. All of the drivers thought so.

The Ferrari drivers weren't happy about it (just like the rest of the grid). They had spent the season struggling behind the Red Bulls and driving on an unknown track wasn't going to help that.

She needed a lot of mental preparation for this one. Just like the other drivers, before the first practice session her only experience on the track had been through sim racing. She was nervous in a way she hadn't been before.

She donned her red fireproofs, the overalls hanging from from her hips. She pulled her cap onto her head when there was a knock on her driver room door. "Yeah?" She called and the member of Ferrari staff walked in.

"The navy pilots are on their way," she said and went to back out of the drivers room.

"What?" The Ferrari driver called suddenly, her brows furrowed. "What navy pilots?"

The member of staff gulped. "They're doing a military flyover before the Grand Prix," she said. "They're on their way here to meet you and Charles," she said.

The driver let out a huff. She grabbed her drinks bottle and marched out of her drivers room, heading to find her teammate.

Charles was doing an interview for Sky Sports when she walked through the garage. She didn't much care, though. She powered on, her hand on Charles's shoulder as she stood at his side. "Chuck," she said, looking at her teammate.

Lawrence Barretto moved his microphone back to his mouth. "Is that his official name for the Vegas Grand Prix?" He asked and moved the microphone towards her.

"Yes," she said as Charles shook his head, repeatedly saying 'no'.

She stood beside him until the interview was over, answering any question Lawrence sent her way. As soon as they were done she grabbed Charles and pulled him away, pulling him further into the Ferrari garage.

"What's up?" Charles asked. He was a brilliant teammate, one of her best friends. They'd known each other for yeas and were close enough for people to think they were together at one point. Brocedes 2.0, many commented on the pictures of the two of them posted on the Scuderia Ferrari Instagram account, as if they were a disaster waiting to happen.

"Did you know we're having to meet the navy pilots doing the military flyover?" She asked, hands on her hips.

Charles furrowed his brows. And then his face relaxed as he shook his head at her. "Start checking your emails, please," he said.

She gently pushed him as a member of the Ferrari staff, the same girl from before, approached them. "They're here," she said and left them to it.

Charles led the way back through the garage, heading to where the navy pilots were standing around his car. Three of them, the three that looked the part, chatted with Fred while one, one that was dressed down, stood to the side.

Suddenly, she pulled Charles out of sight. "What is it?" He asked quickly, concern written on his face.

She looked back around the corner at the pilots for just a second. "Holy shit, Cha, I think I'm in love," she said and Charles just laughed.

"Do you need a wingman?"

She furiously shook her head. "Don't you bloody dare."

She steadied herself and followed Charles over to the navy pilots. Fred spotted his drivers first. He gestured over to them as he back away from the pilots, letting the drivers take over.

Charles held his hand out towards them introducing himself first. She went next, giving them her name as she reached out to shake the woman's hand.

"Natasha Trace," she said with a smile as she shook her hand. "Callsign Phoenix."

She moved on to the man with the moustache. "Bradley Bradshaw, or Rooster," he said and shook her hand, his grip firm. He wore a smile, but it was respectful.

Unlike the man next to him. She could tell who he was from the moment she looked at him, wearing that flirty smile. "Jake Seresin," he said, pulling her hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it. "You can call me Hangman."

The smile dropped from her face and she pulled her hand away, clearly unimpressed. She looked past him, at the guy in the sweater and the glasses. "How about you?" She asked, completely ignoring Hangman. "Are you in the navy too?"

Bob blushed bright red as he stepped forward. "Robert Floyd," he said and shook her hand. "I'm a weapon systems officer."

"Oh," she said. Just that one word and she sounded incredibly fascinated. "Do tell me more."

She'd asked Charles not to wing man her, but he did it anyway. She might not have been aware as Charles spoke to the other navy pilots, doing the job for both of them. (Charles didn't know if Bob was the one she had fancied, but it was easy to guess. He looked like her type).

They spoke for a good twenty minutes before the drivers were told to wrap up the conversation. "You got a call sign?" She asked Bob as she crossed her arms over her chest and leant against the wall.

Jake had been wrapped up in the conversation he, Rooster and Phoenix were having with Charles until that point. Upon hearing her question, he placed his arm around the WSO's shoulders and grinned at the driver. "This is Baby On Board," he said with a grin, going to pinch Bob's cheeks.

Again, his cheeks were flaming as he stepped away from Jake. "It's Bob," he said. "Just Bob."

"Just Bob," she repeated as she smiled at him, completely ignoring everything Jake had said (something that Bob was grateful for). "It's simple, I like it."

Her engineer called for her. She turned and put her thumbs up before turning back to Bob. "Are you staying for the free practice?" She asked and Charles couldn't stop himself from answering.

"Sorry," he said to the pilots. "She doesn't read her emails."

She sent a glare in Charles's direction. The drivers said a quick goodbye to the navy pilots (although she hoped it wasn't for the last time), and got themselves ready for the first practice session in Las Vegas. They pulled up the red and white overalls and placed the balaclavas over their faces.

Bob watched as she pulled her helmet on, hiding her undeniably pretty face. He really did think she was beautiful, and she seemed interested in him, but he wasn't going to read too much into that.

He couldn't see as she gave him a smile from beneath her helmet. When she climbed into the red car with the number 53 on it, Bob knew which one he had to look out for.

The track wasn't ready, everybody knew it. But they didn't know how bad it was until they shower of sparks coming out the back of her car. "What the fuck was that?" She said to her engineer down the radio. "I just hit a fucking manhole cover."

The pilots were leaning forward as she stopped the car. The session was stopped, the other drivers coming into the pits. She jumped out of the car, waiting for it to be lifted onto the truck so that she could look at the extent of the damage beneath.

As the car was taken back to the garage and workers surrounded the manhole cover, she climbed into the medical car and was taken back to the pitlane.

Bob watched as she stormed into the garage, pulling off her helmet and balaclava. "Nine fucking minutes!" She heard her say to somebody in a Ferrari shirt. "I officially hate the Vegas Grand Prix."

She looked around the garage, eyes focusing in on the pilots. They were watching her, too, and she forced her expression to soften as she walked over. "Sorry you had to see that," she said, unzipping her race suit.

Bob shook his head. "'s no worries, ma'am," he said before he could stop himself. When his fellow aviators looked at him, his cheeks flushed red.

"We're just glad to know you're okay," Natasha said for him.

The driver smiled at them. But the interaction was short lived as she was called over to her wrecked car. (It looked fine on the top, but everybody knew the damage was beneath, invisible).

The nine minutes of practice wasn't enough to help the aviators get into F1. Rooster, Hangman and Phoenix wanted to head back to their hotels, but Bob wanted to stick around.

"My dad was into Nascar," he explained as the others left. They nodded, but they knew better. Their Baby On Board had a crush.

She hadn't expect him to stay, that much was clear. She'd seen the other aviators leave and had gotten on with what she needed to do, speaking to the mechanics about the parts they needed to replace and speaking to Fred about the potential consequences.

"Oh!" She said when she saw Bob still sitting there. "I thought you would have left."

Bob gave a polite smile and shrugged his shoulders. "I wanted to learn more."

The smile she gave him matched his own. "Well, you're not gonna learn much here," she said. "Let me get changed and we can get dinner."

Bob didn't expect dinner to be in the Ferrari hospitality suite. He'd didn't exactly think he'd be going out to dinner with her, but he didn't expect this.

She sat Bob down at a table and got a selection of food for them to share. "I can't exactly go crazy," she'd said as she sat down opposite him, placing the single plate in between them. "I still have a car to drive later."

Bob grabbed something from the plate. "Why does that mean you can't go crazy?" He asked curiously, innocently.

Every question Bob had, she answered. He told her that his dad watched Nascar while he was going up but he couldn't get into it. Didn't have the time once he joined the navy.

She asked him all about that, just as curious as he was about her job. Bob knew she was meant to be this big celebrity, but she was normal with him, and he really appreciated it.

He hadn't known who she was going into this weekend, but he heard the way the fans screamed her name. She was so famous, and he was just a boy from Montana.

"Are you and your friends watching anything else of the Grand Prix weekend?" She asked as she ate a piece of lettuce (literally just holding a big piece of lettuce to her lips and crunching on it).

Bob shook his head as he looked down at the table in front of him. "'Friad not, ma'am," he said, looking at her over the top of his glasses. Bob didn't know what compelled him to do it, but he took them off.

"Aw," she said with a pout. "I liked them."

"Really?" Bob couldn't hide the surprise in his voice. "I used to have ones with slightly thicker frames, but these are military issued," he explained, putting them back on his face.

She grinned at him. "They're cute," she said, resting her cheek in her hand. It was undeniably flirty, and her grin was only making it worse. Well, that would have been if Bob could have allowed himself to believe that was flirting with him.

"I could get you tickets, if you'd like," she said. "You and your pilot friends. You can come back back to the Ferrari garage, support us for the rest of the weekend."

Bob gave her a gentle smile. "I'd like that," he said.

They continued chatting until she had to head back to the garage. Bob followed her, walking behind her.

She took him back to the garage, leaving him to stand with the rest of the Ferrari guests while she disappeared into her drivers room. Bob couldn't help but think of her as she got herself ready, getting dressed into her fireproofs and race suit. If Nat was here, he could ask her for advice.

Ten minutes before the start of FP2, she walked over to Bob. He'd seen her dressed down in a Ferrari hoodie and cute cargos, seen her in her race suit, and seen her in her fire proofs, race suit sitting low on her hips.

That was how she walked towards him. He'd seen so little of her, but this was his favourite (and he certainly wanted to see more). "Want to sit in the car?" She asked, hands on her hips.

***

The first thing she did after FP2 was give Bob her phone number. He couldn't quite believe it, and made a mental note to recount everything to Natasha as soon as he got back to the hotel.

"Have you got a way back to your hotel?" She asked, her helmet tucked beneath her arm.

"I, uh..." No, he and Natasha had gotten a cab together.

She waved him off before he could give her a proper answer. "I can drive you, if you'd like," she offered.

That was how Bob found himself sitting in an F1 drivers car, telling her about his childhood as she took him back to his hotel. He told her about his big family and the mountains he grew up around. He told her about when he joined the military, about his first time in Top Gun and his permanent stationing in Coronado.

Before very long they were pulling up outside of his hotel. "Well, here we are," he said, patting his legs. He didn't move to leave the car, but she didn't much mind.

"I really liked meeting you today, Bob," she said as she tapped the heel of her hand against the steering wheel.

"It was lovely to meet you, too," he said.

"Promise you'll text me?"

"Promise."

She held out her pinky finger and Bob wrapped his own around it, sealing the deal. He looked at her one last time and climbed out of the car, heading into the hotel.

Bob couldn't hide his smile as he walked through the lobby and into the elevator. Just days ago he'd hated the thought of a military flyover for the Las Vegas Grand Prix. Now, he couldn't wait to get back to the track, back to the Ferrari garage.

Nat noticed it the minute he walked through the door of the hotel room they were sharing. "Had a good time watching the rest of it?" She asked as she pushed away from the desk in the room.

Bob nodded as he pulled out his phone, clicking on her contact. But, the moment he was there, he didn't know what to say to her. "Nat," he called, looking up at her. "I need your help."

He only needed Nat's help to get the ball rolling. But soon, she and Bob were sending messages back and forth with just a second long gap between. Sometimes Bob took a little longer to reply, but only because Nat was reading the messages over his shoulder and assuring him that she was flirting.

Bob couldn't believe it. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't.

"I'll go with you tomorrow," Nat said as she climbed into her bed. It was incredibly late and Bob was hyper-aware that they were still texting. "Find out if she really is flirting with you."

"Nat..."

"Goodnight, Bob."

Natasha went to sleep, but Bob stayed up. She was still replying to his messages, and he couldn't bring himself to not respond. At least until she turned around and wished him goodnight.

When Bob woke up, she had already texted him. I don't have to be on track until later - wanna get food?

Who was Bob to say no? Natasha grinned as he got himself ready, including his glasses. (He had brought his contacts to Vegas because of how much he hated wearing his glasses. He didn't have time to put them in before they headed to the track the day before, but Nat didn't expect him to wear them now).

He walked out of the hotel, ignoring Hangman and Rooster as they called after him. They sat in the lobby, do doubt waiting for Natasha as they whistled at him.

Bob kept going. He saw her car before he walked out of the glass doors, and had to stop himself from breaking into a small jog. As he approached, she pushed open the passenger side door. "Hey, Robby!" She called, wearing a grin.

"Hey," Bob said, wearing a smile as he climbed into the passenger side.

As soon as he was buckled in, she began driving. "Have you ever been to Vegas before?" She asked as she headed towards the strip.

Bob shook his head. "No, ma'am," he said. It wasn't in the same way he'd said 'ma'am' before. No, those time he had been nervous saying it. This time, it was so fucking cute and she loved it. "I don't get enough leave for that."

"Why do you call me ma'am?" She asked, but she never wanted it to stop.

Bob couldn't stop his smile. "My momma raised me right."

That much she could tell. She parked the car and climbed out as Bob did the same. "Come on," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him along.

They went to a restaurant. Bob didn't catch the name of it as she pulled him through the doors. Even when sat gave the waiter her name, she was still holding his hand.

They sat down at a table for two. It felt far too intimate, almost like a date. She couldn't order a drink, but insisted that Bob did. He ordered one beer and made sure to make it last through their entire lunch.

She ordered a salad. Bob wanted to do the same, but she could see how conflicted he was. "Have whatever you want," she said, lowering her menu.

So, he did just that. Bob got himself a burger, the cheapest one on the menu (which was still incredibly expensive).

While they ate, Bob couldn't ignore the way her foot touched his knee beneath the table. He gulped as he reached for his beer.

While they waited, she told Bob about how she had grown up. Karting from a young age before moving onto single seaters.

The more she spoke, the more Bob could imagine getting into F1. Watching races, coming to see her in Vegas when he wasn't deployed. He just had to hope she still liked him enough to keep in contact with him.

They spent the entire afternoon together, until she was taking Bob to the track with her. Pictures of the two of them were taken as they walked through the paddock, too close to just be friends.

Once again, Bob stood in the garage while she completed the last practice session. She led, the fastest car until the Red Bulls were released onto the track.

But still, Bob couldn't stop watching the number 53 car. She came into the pits, had her tyres changed and went out a few minutes later.

Bob couldn't help but smile as he watched her climb the leaderboard. When practice ended, she didn't come in right away, doing a practice start with the other drivers.

When she got out of her car, she pulled off her helmet and balaclava, and spoke to her engineers. She had looked so happy when she climbed out of the car, but Bob watched as her face fell.

She walked over to him, unable to keep herself from sighing. The anger dropped from her face, replaced by sadness. "Wanna come sit in my drivers room?"

So, Bob followed her to her drivers room. She led him inside and shut the door behind him, letting out a breath as she leaned against it.

"Everything okay?" Asked Bob as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

She unzipped her overalls and let them fall to her hips. Bob shuffled over on the couch, giving her space. She sat beside him, shutting her eyes as she leaned back. "Because of the parts they'd had to replace in my car, I'm probably going to get a penalty later," she mumbled.

Her head fell onto his shoulder and Bob didn't move. He hesitated before wrapping his arm around her shoulder. That that, she shuffled slightly closer, which Bob didn't mind one bit.

Suddenly, she let out a weak laugh. "You're kinda making me want to stay in the states a little longer, Robby," she mumbled.

He looked down at her. "Would you? Seriously?" Bob could imagine it then, taking her to stay with him in San Diego, taking her to Montana to meet his mom at Christmas.

She shook her head. "I can't," she said and sighed through her nose. "There's one last race before the end of the season."

After that, Bob wanted to say. But he squeezed her shoulder instead.

When her trainer came in, Bob wished her good luck and headed back out to the garage. While he waited, he pulled out his phone and sent Natasha a text. She hadn't gone to the track with him, instead going with Bradley and Jake to the hangar they would be flying from.

If Nat showed Rooster and Hangman his texts, he'd never hear the end of it. But Bob realised he didn't mind. Let them talk, he was here with her.

The first round of the qualifying session was about to start. Bob sort of knew what to expect, she'd explained it to him while they sat in her drivers room, her head on his shoulder. He watched as she walked towards the car, her red, gold, black and white helmet on her head.

She climbed into the car and somebody strapped her in as somebody else spoke to her. She nodded at whatever they were saying and put her thumbs up.

Admittedly, Bob couldn't tell the difference between the practice sessions and the qualifying session. He watched as she went from having no time on the board to being the quickest car on track. But then she was knocked out of the top spot, down in eighth by the end of that session.

Bob had assumed that she was starting the race in eighth position after the eighteen minute long qualifying session. But then she and fourteen other drivers were going back out onto track.

Again she was at the top of the board, knocked out by the same driver. But she stayed in fourth, unable to get a quicker time in before the end of the session.

She went out for a third and final time. Bob heard her calling down the radio as somebody got in her way. But she put an impressive time on the board, finishing third.

It may have been obvious to everybody else in the garage, but Bob had to ask the girl standing next to him. She pushed her dark hair behind her ear and answered with a thick French accent. Bob thanked her and watched as the 53 car came into the garage.

She hopped out, did what she needed to do and came to find Bob.

It was near midnight and she couldn't quite believe he was still there, watching her. They'd spent the entire day together, and she'd loved every minute of it.

"Want me to drive you home?" She asked and Bob nodded his head.

She did just that, driving Bob back to his hotel. "They haven't confirmed if I've got a penalty or not," she said as she drove him. "So, for now I'm starting in P3." She quickly glanced at him and then looked back at the road. "Think you might be my good luck charm, Robby," she said and he blushed a deep shade of red.

She pulled up outside of the hotel, just as she had done the day before. And, like the day before, Bob was hesitant to climb out of the car.

As Bob reached for the handle of the door, she opened her mouth, ready to say something, and he stopped. But she closed her mouth. Still, Bob didn't move.

She sucked in a breath and tried again. This time, words came out. "Can I come up?"

Bob knew what that meant. How could he not? Some part of him had been wanting her to ask something like this for the last few hours. But still, he shook his head. "I, uh, I can't. I'm sharing my room with Nat."

"Oh," she said and looked down at the centre console between them. "Oh, shit. Are you and Nat- I didn't mean to overstep... I-"

Bob quickly shook his head. "No. No, Nat's my best friend, but only my best friend," he said. "But, her bed is a couple feet away from mine, so..."

She couldn't help but let a smile cross her face at that. "Can I kiss you, Robby?" She asked.

He leaned over the centre console. Her arms went around his neck, fingers playing with the short hair at the back of his neck.

Bob kissed her. He closed the gap between them, his arm awkwardly resting on her shoulders as his lips moved against her own. Her nose bumped the lens of his glasses, but neither of them minded.

If the expensive car left room for it, he would have moved her onto his lap. But he couldn't. He pulled away, staring at her as his eyes opened again. "Holy shit," he whispered and she grinned at him.

"I'll come and get you before the race," she said and Bob climbed out of the car.

***

He didn't wake up to a text from her. Immediately Bob's mind played tricks on him, telling him that, after they had kissed, she didn't want him.

He sat in the hotel for half of the day, in a perpetual state of anxiousness. Part of him didn't want to move until he heard from her, until he knew that everything was okay.

"You coming?" Nat asked him. He checked his phone one last time before following her out of the hotel room.

He didn't know what she was currently dealing with, that she had just found out about her grid place penalty. "This is such shit!" She cried as she and Charles walked through the paddock. She'd woken up to the news and hadn't had time to message Bob.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now," Charles said, stopping to sign things for fans (signs, hats, and even a packet of oreos). "How are things going with the navy guy?"

She grinned as they kept walking through the paddock. "We kissed, Cha," she said, suddenly much happier.

"Kissed and..." Charles tried to push.

She shook her head. "Just kissed."

Charles nodded as they walked into the garage. "Just kissed, but you wanted more," he said. "Are you gonna see him before we leave?"

"Yeah," she answered. "I'm gonna go and pick him up before the race."

Through the evening, she and Charles did what they needed to do for the race. When she got a minute, she texted Bob, but she didn't have many opportunities to check her phone.

As soon as she had a chance, she ran out of the paddock. She held her phone to her ear as she went, making her way to her car. Bob picked up on the third ring. "Hey," she said, opening the door of her car. "I'm on my way."

Bob hesitated before he answered. "I'm not at the hotel right now."

"Do you still want to come to the race?" She asked quickly.

"Do you still want me there?"

She let out a laugh. "Of course I do, Robby. Give me the address and I'll pick you up."

That was just what happened. She picked Bob up and took him to the track. She promised the other aviators that she would get him there to watch the military flyover and drove off with him in the passenger seat.

"Have you ever been to San Diego?" Bob asked as she drove. It had been playing on his mind a lot since they kissed, his best case scenario (which was currently happening. He could have laughed at himself for being so worried).

She shook her head. "I haven't had a chance to explore outside of the places we have Grand Prix," she answered.

"So, you haven't been to Montana?"

"Nope."

Bob couldn't help but smile. He sucked in a breath, steadying himself. "I don't know when you're gonna have time off, but I could show you Montana, if you'd like."

She grinned at him as she parked the car. "I'd love that, Robby," she said and climbed out of the car.

She checked the time on her watch, grabbed her hand and began running. "I'm late!" She cried. Bob was only happy to run beside her, heading into the Ferrari garage. He slowed to a walk, but she kept going, running to her drivers room to pull on her fireproofs and overalls.

Bob watched it all. He watched as she stood for the national anthem with her fellow drivers, watched as she completed the formation lap from the back of the grid (something he had to ask about), and watched as she raced.

Bob couldn't help but be impressed as she fought her way across the track, racing past most of the grid. She overtook ten other cars, finishing in 5th.

When she climbed out of the car, Bob could see just how happy she was from her body language alone. She did what she had to do, spoke to the team and was interviewed, before she ran over to Bob and threw her arms around him.

"That was incredible!" He cried, smiling down at her. "I didn't realise racing was so exciting."

She grinned and kissed his cheek. "Think you'll watch next weeks race?"

"Definitely," he said.

He hadn't expected her to kiss him in front of all of the cameras. But Bob didn't mind. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close until she pulled away.

"I leave in the morning," she whispered in his ear. "Stay with me, in my hotel. One last night."

"Until Montana?" Bob asked, his forehead against her own.

"Until Montana."

a/n: ok i loved this and it may need a part two lol

#bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x you #robert floyd #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x reader smut #robert bob floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd fluff #robert floyd smut #robert floyd x you #top gun #top gun bob #top gun maverick

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yawnderu · 1 year ago

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hi, i've only discovered your writing recently but i can't even explain how much i love it 😭 it's like that one anon who i think said that it feels very real, like you're getting 4k ultra hd 8d view of the scene lol 🩷

i really like your bimbo reader posts but i also sort of enjoy seeing them from this point of view that's like.... "this is not his gfs """"constant"""" style but he just lets her be in this kind of persona sometimes because it's relaxing to let him do all the work and thinking for her from time to time".

i hope this makes sense 😭 thank you for writing something that's this cute and wholesome i just love it

Thank you so much sweetheart, this is really lovely!! 😭😭😭<3

Yeah!! I totally get where you're coming from!! She's not exactly dumb, it's actually quite the opposite. I'd like to hc her as a girl who managed to get into a very good university and is studying astrophysics simply because she liked watching stars as a child. She's not dumb— just a girl who grew up extremely sheltered and hasn't seen the world through the eyes of someone who has had a difficult life, like Simon.

There's certain naivety that while it can be dangerous, she's been learning more and more about with Simon's help about stranger danger and trusting her instinct, but the girl is always surrounded by people who enjoy seeing her thrive and always teach her the things that her parents didn't.

I'd say in general she has a very good life, and now paired with Simon, someone whose entire soul wants to see her thrive?? She gets to turn off her brain and simply let him take control— he sometimes picks her clothes for her, dressing her up to the best of his capacity even when he's not a fashion guy.

This man has studied all her Instagram pictures because she's mesmerizing and he loves her that much, yet it also gives him the chance to more or less know what combinations she likes to wear. He still remembers the time she looked at him like he grew a second head for trying to make her wear dots and lines— but he never made that same mistake again.

They work surprisingly well together despite basically being on complete opposite sides of a spectrum, and at the end of the day, they work this well because they're both equally in love with the other.

Simon is level-headed and that gives her the chance to simply be herself without worrying about anything, he gives her a sense of security that she's never gotten with anyone else, while bimbo!reader gives Simon the love and affection he never even dared to think about. The main thing is that she looks and treats him like he's worth something how good of a soldier he is. Hell, she doesn't even know he's a soldier, she simply found the most brooding and intimidating guy and fell in love with him before she even knew it.

They both spoil each other a lot. Simon buys her things, treats her with patience and love, and generally treats her like the princess that she is, while she takes care of Simon like no other. She does face masks with him, gives him massages, does his manicure (trimming and cleaning his nails, putting lotion on his calloused hands), and is overall as patient as they come.

They're a pretty wholesome pair and quite honestly I enjoy writing about them a lot, the love they have for each other is fully pure and it makes me happy. :')

Sorry for going off here HJBEFJBHKFEHBKJEFHBJK I wrote too much but God, I love this pair SO fucking much

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

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o-sachi · 5 months ago

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Dress to Impress Headcanons ‧₊˚ ⋅ Blue Lock Chars.

ଳ what's it like to play the roblox game dress to impress with the blue lock boys?

ଳ characters; isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, michael kaiser, alexis ness, shidou ryusei, nagi seishirou, reo mikage, Chigiri Hyoma

ଳ tags; crack, some profanity lol, gn reader, no y/n, can be established rs or not

[🐟]: Let me know if you want more characters to this hehe ~

ᯓ Isagi Yoichi

"How do you change the skin? Where's the hair? Why do the others have faces?"

He's so lost... poor baby. Expect a lot of questions (some of which get repeated) from him about how the game works. He's going to be overwhelmed with the buttons and stuff around his character.

You think 5 minutes is more than enough to put together an outfit, but somehow Isagi comes out of the runway without hair or with a bunch of clothes layered on top of each other.

He also asks how you do the poses on the runway.

"Hey, what's pose 28?"

HE RATES SUPER HIGH, so you're over there pouting 'cuz he's helping these 10 year old children win.

"This one's really nice. She's got a big bow on her head." / "But the theme is sad day, Yoichi..." / "And? Won't a big bow make it a happy one?"

Gets a bit sad 'cuz he gets rated low even if he rated all the others with 4 or 5 stars. Awww...

ᯓ Bachira Meguru

"I CAN MAKE MY SKIN GREEN? HOLY SHI-"

Expect that he will always use the most blinding colors known to man. He's gonna walk out on that runway looking like a traffic light.

He's so noisy when he plays. It's like he's commentating everything that's happening to him as if he has a whole stream going on. But in reality, it's just the two of you.

Spams pose 28 because all of the other cool ones aren't free.

Says "slay" every time he walks out because you said it once to him.

"HELL YEAH THAT'S A SLAAAY."

But if he's on a losing streak, he'll suddenly go quiet and focus more lol.

"Why are you quiet all of a sudden?" / "Shhh, don't interrupt my creative juices."

ᯓ Michael Kaiser

"What? Are you playing this game with your eyes closed or something?"

He said that. On voice chat. To a little girl. Who cried.

You had to reprimand him and tell him to apologize to the girl. But with his pride, he only allowed himself to rate her 5 stars the next round as his way of saying sorry.

"There. 5 stars... for the most clown outfit I've ever seen." / "Mihya!"

So mean to everyone else, but will always compliment your outfit even the ones you barely put effort in. You're starting to wonder whether or not it was condescending or heartfelt...

"That outfit looks great. We should duo in the next round." / "No, everyone in the server's mad at you and it'll affect my rating too."

He never makes it to the top 3 despite the good outfits he puts together because he talks shit on everyone in the server.

ᯓ Alexis Ness

"I got all the new codes; let me type them for you."

HE'S SUPER GOOD AT IT? It's to the point that you're jealous because his rank's way higher than yours.

"Just type M3RM4ID in that box." / "It's not working." / "Did you type the E as a 3 and the A as a 4?" / "What?" / "Never mind, gimme your Ipad."

He definitely knows all the codes that unlocks the hidden special items of the game. Plus, he's super into the lore as well. The nail technician? You bet he's going to talk about her extensive lore.

Super efficient when putting together an outfit. He's got a whole routine down to a T.

He actually rates outfits objectively—not too low and never too high.

ᯓ Shidou Ryusei

"HAHAHA WHAT'S UP WITH THAT WHACK ASS OUTFIT? #############"

He has also made a kid cry before. But unlike Kaiser, he doesn't listen to you and doubles down on it. Just an absolute menace all around.

He's definitely muted by the other people in the server because regardless of what he says, no one is responding to him. So there's only you left to talk to him.

Doesn't even try to put together a decent outfit. You're not even sure if he reads the theme at all because he walks out on the runway looking like the personification of a fever dream.

"Haha look. This pose makes it look like I'm thrusting in the air." / "Ryu! Oh my gosh..."

Definitely has been banned from Roblox before and he's using a new account to play with you.

Everything he types just shows up as hashtags at this point...

ᯓ Nagi Seishirou

"This theme is such a hassle... when is it going to be the pajama party theme?"

He already plays Roblox to begin with, but he needed extra convincing from you to play Dress to Impress because he didn't see the thrill in it.

He was only convinced when he saw you rage quitting after losing with such a fabulous outfit. He realized the competitive aspect of it and decided to play with you.

Nagi doesn't realize it but his rotation consists of the same tops and bottoms, so his outfits always come out looking the same. This leads him to losing all the time.

He definitely complains when the runway has too many players. Like... when is it going to end?

"Sei! Did you just tell the kids in the server to leave? What the hell?" / "Yah. They were making the line too long and I don't wanna wait."

Also complains when he doesn't show up in the top 3 even though he didn't really put any effort into his outfit.

ᯓ Reo Mikage

"Hey, babe, look. I bought the VIP. Want me to buy it for you too?"

HE'S SO PAY TO WIN. He's a VIP player, has all the pose packs, and literally everything you can buy in the game. He's not shy about flaunting it to the other players in the lobby.

He'll spend the first minute in the VIP area then walk all smug in the cOmMoNeR's area wearing the biggest fuck-you dress ever.

If the theme is anything normal, he'll still manage to make the outfit look high-end.

Trust that he'll spam all the expensive poses once he's on the runway. The little rascal would be smirking to himself as he presses the different poses.

Reo grumbles to himself when he loses. He can't help but be annoyed when he gets only a few stars while literally wearing a dress that costs thousands of robux.

"I was literally wearing the biggest ball gown and I still lost? What the fuck."

ᯓ Chigiri Hyoma

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I gave you 5 stars. Yeah, for sure... for sure."

SUPER COMPETITIVE! Not even you are safe from aggressive dressing and impressing.

You two will be in duos, but he'll always one up you.

"Hmm... interesting choice of colors." / "Is it that bad?" / "Bad? What do you mean? It's great. I promise."

He won't be talking shit on anyone, but you can tell what's running through his head with that smug look on his face.

"What's up with that look? / "Hm? Oh... haha. I'm just enjoying the game you know? / "..."

Will refuse to choose any other hair that doesn't resemble his own. It doesn't matter if the theme requires a different color. He will be using his red/pink hair and no one will stop him.

tag list; @meowkages , @shidousprincess

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock headcanons #kaiser x reader #nagi x reader

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kmt123whatsthetea · 2 years ago

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Room for two (NSFW)

Fred Weasley x fem reader x George Weasley

Fred and y/n have been dating for a whole but she still struggles to tell her boyfriend and his brother apart. The twins (being the horny, mischievous fuckers they are) decide to use that to their advantage and have a little fun. What can I say, Fred likes to watch…

TW: nsfw (under 16’s dni), mean dom Fred, mean dom George, degradation, no incest, sharing, voyeurism, spanking, slight bondage, no prep (evil boys 😏), unprotected sex, masturbation (male), face smacking, cum swallowing. I think that's everything.

A/N: This is not only my first Weasley fic, but also my first time writing smut, yay! Italic bold speech is a flashback except for the word ‘Kitten’. Read and it’ll make more sense lol.

1.4K words

“C’mon love, me and Georgie have missed you. Spend the weekend with us above the shop, it’ll be fun”

When the brilliant Fred Weasley invites you to stay with him and his brother above their shop in Diagon Alley, there’s really no option other than yes. You had been dating him for nearly three years and you loved him more than anything else in the world. A nice, quiet weekend with the Weasley twins would do you some good…

…but Fred had other plans.

____________________________________________

You arrived on Friday and walked into the shop, seeing one of the ginger haired twins behind the counter and the other stocking a shelf nearby, neither one aware of your presence. Fuck, which one was which? Maybe if you let them notice you first, you'd be able to tell. You pottered around the shop, browsing the shelves of different potions and colourful boxes containing all kinds of mischief, trying to attract the attention of the twin stocking the shelf. He looked up with a smirk and instantly knew what you were up to, and he didn't plan on revealing who he was just yet. He knew that Fred would be alright with this, they had discussed it the night before. He can still remember Fred’s words clear as day:

“She’ll love every minute of it, she can be a needy little slut when you give her what she wants”

“I've seen how she looks at you, she wants us both but she likes to act all innocent and pretend that she doesn't”

“You can have her for the night, as long as I get to watch. She’s my dirty little whore after all”

The twin in front of you simply smirked, knowing that with one simple nickname, you’d think he was your loving boyfriend. Getting you into his bed would be easier than Fred said it would be.

“Go on up, Kitten, and wait for me on the bed”

George smirked at how fast you moved up the stairs to the flat above the shop. He finished stocking the shelves before shooting Fred a wink and following you up. Fred had been watching everything. This was his idea in the first place, and he wasn't going to miss a single thing. You always acted so innocent when he talked about George, but he knew how you felt. He could practically see the way your mouth watered when you would watch them at Quidditch practice. He could see the way you rubbed your legs together when they sat either side of you in the common room. Now that you had all graduated, he had promised George a turn with you.

As soon as the shop shut and all of the customers had left, he would go upstairs and enjoy the show.

____________________________________________

You didn't even have time to enter Fred’s room and get undressed before George had come up behind you, gripping your waist tightly and sucking harshly on your neck. His right hand trailed up, practically ripping the buttons apart on your dress to reveal your bra covered tits beneath. He would never get sick of looking at them. When he’d sit next to you and look down your shirt, knowing that all of your attention was on Fred. He couldn’t help himself. George ripped off your bra, groping your bare tits harshly. He listened in on every gasp, every moan, and every whimper that you made, only becoming rougher as he pinched and tugged on your nipples.

“F..Fuck..Freddie…”

George chuckled darkly and tore your dress off, followed by your soaked panties. He pushed you onto the bed, smirking mischievously at the way your legs opened wide, your glistening cunt on full display for him. Poor little slut, George thought, Getting this turned on for her boyfriend's brother.

“On your hands and knees, now”

George growled, pushing his suit trousers down and getting behind you. He ran his hands over your ass before bringing his hand down swiftly, making you yelp from the stinging sensation. But he didn’t care, George seemed transfixed by the way your ass jiggled and the skin turned bright red. He kept spanking each cheek, making sure to leave handprints and a painful memory whenever you sat down.

“Freddie, Please…been so good, please fuck me. Need you so badly” you whined, your thighs rubbing together to give your needy clit friction.

“You’re such a desperate, whiney little slut. Bet you’d love nothing more than my cock deep inside of your slutty cunt. Keep begging, beautiful, let me hear how much you need me” George started stroking his cock to your pleas. He’d give you what you wanted eventually, he’d been dreaming of your tight pussy ever since his brother introduced you to the family. The younger twin suddenly had an idea and pulled your arms behind your back, tying them securely together with his tie.

He gripped your joined arms tightly and rammed his cock inside your wet pussy. The stretch made you yelp in pain and squirm in a (not so) desperate attempt to flee, but George only held you tighter, a cruel pout on his lips.

“Thought this is what you wanted, little love. Don't tell me you can't be a good girl for me now”

His cock was so deep, hitting that spongy spot that made you clench around him and shut your eyes tight. His hands gripped your skin with a bruising force, you were so close…

“Well, well, well, look who’s enjoying themselves” an identical voice quipped, but it wasn't from above you, it came from the doorway.

The older Weasley twin stalked close, making you squirm in embarrassment of being caught by your boyfriend's brother. But he only knelt in front of you with a devilish smirk.

“Guess my little kitten really is a slut for it, huh?”

Fuck

Your eyes widened as everything seemed to click into place. The man in front of you was your boyfriend, the man with his cock pressing deep inside of you was his younger twin brother. A pout spread across your lips, thinking that Fred was mad at you for being underneath George. But Fred simply got up and sat in the chair across from the foot of the bed, getting comfortable but exposing his hard cock.

“Go on Kitten, show Georgie just what a little slut you are. Put on a show for us”

George smirked and snapped his hips forward, knocking the breath from your lungs. He started his brutal pace that rubbed your insides raw. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you buried your head into the soft sheets beneath you. But George wasn't having any of that. He pulled you up by your hair, your back pressing against his chest, causing his cock to somehow push deeper into your cunt. You hissed at the sting from your scalp.

“Such a spoiled brat. Doesn't even say thank you for her lovely surprise” George spat next to your ear, his other hand coming up to lightly smack your face. “What do you say, slut?”

“Thank you, Freddie…Feels s..so good”. Your moans got louder with every word.

Fred pumped his cock, trying to match the pace his brother had set so that he could pretend that he was the one fucking you. But he knew you’d need more, you were his insatiable little slut. Fred simply looked into your desperate eyes and grunted through gritted teeth…

“Cum for me, Kitten”

At his command, you let the blinding pleasure take over your entire body. Your velvety walls clench around George, pushing him over the edge too. You could feel his cum spurt deep inside of you, staining your walls. He let go of your hair and you dropped forward onto the mattress. Fred got up and walked over to your fucked out body and you immediately opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, smiling as you felt his warm, salty sweet cum hit your tongue and lips. You swallowed all that he had given you and licked your lips, collecting every last drop. Fred stroked your hair softly.

“My turn, kitten”

#fred weasley #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasly x reader #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley smut #george weasley #george weasly x reader #george weasely smut #george weasley fic #weasley twins #fred and goerge weasley #fred and george #weasley twins smut

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smutinlove · 6 months ago

Note

hi! how are you? can I make a request? so ive been imagining in my head how would jason react to reader going to the wayne gala with him? (for being more especific after jason introduce reader to the batfamily reader gets invited by jason's family to go to the wayne gala)

how would the batfamily treat her? how does Jason behave on gala nights?? sorry for so many questions lol

thanks for reading this <3

y'all are FEEDING THE DEMON inside me. slay

-not proof-read. has punctuation mistakes (probably. maybe.. idk)

•after a few embarrassing encounters (for jason HAHA) with his family, you were formally invited to have dinner with them. and dinner turned into an invitation to the wayne gala. pretty big, huh?

•at first, you were hesitant... but jason said he wouldn't go without you and you did not want that. so you went with him.

•i mean, it was one thing being with him. but his arm wrapped around you waist while he introduced you to everyone, calling you his, "girlfriend."

•and whenever he called you his girlfriend, he blushed and smiled.

•i mean, usually jason would be one of those "macho, no feelings/emotions need to be shown" kind of men. but when he's with you, it's a whole new genre.

•he's so gentle with you. your dress got stuck? he'll buy you a new one. hungry during the gala? he'll make you sit down and give you a plate filled with food. (his siblings said that he's so chaotic during gala nights... not true.)

•and omg, speaking of his siblings, they are so protective over both of you. if you hurt him, count your days. if he hurt you, that's a different book in general.

•dick is like an older brother, except he is so sweet and genuine. he knows everything about everyone. tim is like the nerdy but really chaotic younger brother. he's super smart, but also on the brink of causing an alien invasion and murdering everyone in the galaxy. but he's just a goofy little boy <3

•steph is such a girl's girl. she's so friendly and sweet. she's an angel, i swear. cassandra cain doesn't talk much. but she isn't untoward or rude to you. she just doesn't talk a lot. but she has said a few nice words to you.

•damien... that little minx is formal. but once you break down his barriers, he is just another child and child soldier. you and him bonded over your love for animals. he even introduced you to alfred the cat.

•now, papa wayne, the man, the myth, the bat. bruce wayne. he was very friendly. holy shit, this man raised amazing children. he deserves the world. he is very sweet to you, always making sure you're comfortable. he's like a dad to you. (i wish he was my dad)

•alfred, the heart of the bat family. he's formal too sometimes. but he's really nice. he's helpful and witty. he knows everything about every member of the bat/wayne family. if you want to see jason in diapers or when he was in an awkward teenage phase, ask him. he has pics of EVERY batfam member.

•let's just say that jason was raised by amazing people. and those same people adore you with everything.

jason is my pookie bear. he's just a big cuddly teddy bear and i love him for that

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mxnhoo · 6 months ago

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falling (n. rk)

synopsis : tonight, it was only you and ni-ki. genre : romance, fluff, ni-ki is so sweet it's insane brah pairing : ni-ki x reader (ft ive) w/c : 3.6k a/n : heeyyy guys. haven't written in a while so i wanted to take the time to make something so my account doesn't completely die yet LOL. been getting into chase atlantic and falling has been on replay, so i just had to write something inspired by it. not proofread cos i rushed this since i still need to do schoolwork, but hope ya'll enjoy this~ + the coloured text keeps glitching so pls ignore it LOL

now playing : falling - chase atlantic paradise - chase atlantic

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"All done!" a voice informed you, the sensations you felt on your face disappearing as you opened your eyes to see your friends, smiling at you. The one directly in front of you was holding a make-up brush, on the table beside her were multiple make-up products, a few from Clio, Flower Knows, Dasique and other brands. You looked around the room to see your friends looking astonished staring at you, loud squeals filling up the room after a few seconds.

"Babes—" your friend, Wonyoung, who was doing your make-up, put down the make-up brush she was holding, taking your hand with both of hers and flashing you such a gleeful countenance. You were worried about what she was gunna say, did you look bad? "You look drop-dead gorgeous."

Upon hearing her compliment, warmth filled your heart and a shy smile filled your face, making you look away as you felt flattered. A different voice behind Wonyoung added on, "You literally look so fucking hot". You shot your head up and realised it was Yujin talking, her raising her eyebrows and smirking at you.

"Oh stop," you giggled, curling your wrist at her and playfully rolling your eyes. Yujin spoke again, "You're literally gunna be prom queen".

Liz, who was sitting beside Yujin, added on, "Ni-ki's gunna love this, he's so lucky". Upon Ni-ki's name falling onto your ears, you slightly jumped, heart skipping a beat as you realise that he was going to see you like this. He was going to see you all dressed up and pretty, and you were nervous as to what he was going to think.

"No way.." you brushed Liz away, taking the pocket mirror that was resting on the table along with the rest of the make-up to see how you looked like, because no way you looked that good, right? But oh. My. God.

You were gorgeous. Your lips were a pretty shade that matched you perfectly, your base looked absolutely flawless, eyelashes looking so long and lustrious, contour making your features seem sharper, your eyeliner was on fleak, and a hint of blush on your cheeks adding cuteness to your whole look. You felt so confident for the first time in your life. "Holy crap, how did you do this.." you quickly turned to Wonyoung, features of confusion and shock filling your face as you stared into Wonyoung who was now proudly smiling.

Wonyoung shrugged and gave a smug look, "I have my ways, you're welcome babes". She caressed your hand and looked at you with such loving eyes. You couldn't explain how thrilled you were, to be able to show Ni-ki your prom dress, your make-up look, and your hair that was nicely curled up and styled by Rei before the make-up.

"Are you guys sure he'll like it?" you nervously questioned, unsure as to whether Ni-ki will love this sight of you.

Your friends groaned and even rolled their eyes, retorting back in unision, "He'll love it!". You jumped at how united they were to nag at you, and if you said you weren't happy, you'd be lying. You giggled and covered your mouth, feeling so appreciated.

You were packing your belongings into your handbag that nicely complemented your sparkly black dress, and as you were about to pack your phone inside, you received a notification causing your phone to buzz and turn on. You swiftly checked your phone for the alert, and felt as your heart melt when you received a text from the one person you wanted it to be from.

ni-ki my love ₊˚ෆ : bet you look so pretty rn ni-ki my love ₊˚ෆ : i can't wait to see you gorgeous :)

Your heart rate picked up the pace as you shyly smiled at your phone screen, increasingly getting excited to see him. You knew he was going to be dressed up in the suit that you loved so much. You couldn't wait to be able to see how handsome he looked in person, and at the same time you hope that he would feel the same way.

y/n! : me too y/n! : i love you :)

You giggled to yourself before you heard a voice from outside the room, "Y/N, time to go!". Your eyes shot up to the door before you responded, "Okay, I'm coming!". You shoved your phone into your handbag and zipped it up, putting on your heels before walking out of the room to be met by your friends. "Let's go!" you cheered out.

You were nervously walking inside the ballroom after you and your group of friends had checked in at the reception centre. You looked around at your surroundings to realise that everything looked so luxurious, you probably haved walked past 6 chandelier's by now, the roof being higher than you expected, the white cloth that covered the chairs and tables being a high-quality polyester, and you realise that there were a hoard of people that filled the room at every corner. You kept looking for one person, walking at all directions. By now you've already walked away from your friends, alone as you desperately tried to find Ni-ki.

Scanning the crowd, you finally spotted him. Holy fuck, he was so handsome. He was in the black suit that he usually wore for special occassions, but it will always catch you off guard. The suit easily portrayed his well-built figure, his shoulders looking broad. His hair was nicely slicked back with gel with a few strands resting on his forehead. He was breathtaking.

Without even realising, your legs started moving towards him, bumping into multiple people but your eyes remaining locked onto him.

"Ni-ki." you called once you were near him. "Yes-?" he turned around to the direction of your voice before he stared at you, his jaw dropped. He looked at you up and down, his eyes meeting yours and looking completely astonished.

"Fuck Y/N.." was all he could say after he saw you. He let out an amused scoff before continuing, "You look so fucking gorgeous, baby.". A blush crept up your cheeks, and he held his hand up that was holding a bouquet, "Some flowers for the prettiest girl here". You took the bouquet into your hands, leaning forward to peck a kiss on his cheek before you muttered out, "Thanks, love". He continued to stare at you, realising he was such in a lovedaze. He quickly wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer and pressing you against his body before placing his lips on yours. It caught you off-guard, but you slowly closed your eyes as you melted into the kiss, your free-hand resting on his chest.

His movement was slow, steadily tilting his head to be able to gain more access. The rush of adrenaline that pumped through your veins made you feel so alive, your heart now rapidly beating. You couldn't care about the loud conversions around you, or the loud music. At this point of time, it was just you and Ni-ki. His hands travelled up to your face, cupping your head as he brought your face closer. You felt so lost in his lips, cherishing the intimacy between you and him. As you slowly started to feel breathless, you lightly pushed his chest and pulled away, panting as you both looked into each other's eyes with such an intense gaze while resting your forehead on his.

"I feel like the luckiest man on earth, you're literally perfect." He complimented, and you felt the same way. You felt like you won the lottery knowing that THE Ni-ki was your boyfriend. You chuckled as you closed your eyes, your free arm slowly making it's way up to wrap his neck. Before you knew it, loud voices started cheering, making you open your eyes and lean back to see what the commotion was about. There were 2 figures now on stage, Gaeul and Leeseo, that was all the way at the front of the ballroom, holding mic's as they loudly cheered, "Let's get prom started!".

Loud cheers filled the room, and you chuckled, looking back at Ni-ki to see that he was still checking you out, looking at you with such loving eyes. "Stop looking at me like that.." you teased, chuckling at him.

He shot back, "How could I not when you look like this?". You playfully smacked his chest, before taking his wrist into your hand.

"Let's go to our table, the rest should be waiting for us." you said. He looked reluctant, but he didn't want to turn you down, so he nodded and you happily led him to the tables.

You walked around the ballroom, checking the stand numbers on the table, looking out for the number that you and your friends have booked together. You finally spotted the table, and you called out, "There's our table!".

However, before you could pull him towards the table, he pulled you back and you turned around to face him, confused on why he wasn't following you. When you both made eye contact, he softly asked, "Can we get out of here?".

Your eyes widen as you tilt your head at him, confused as to why he would want to skip prom when he had been looking forward to it for the longest time. You questioned him, "Why..?".

He gave you a warm smile, before leaning in, his warm breath now hitting your ears, "I wanna have you to myself for the whole night". Your heart skipped a beat as you rapidly blink your eyes, trying to remain your composure. You slowly tilted back to look at the table where all of your friends were, then slowly back at Ni-ki. Your hand that was on his wrist slowly went down to his hands, interlocking it before you gave him a smile of approval, nodding and quickly answering, "Of course, honey".

He mischeviously chuckled before he ran towards the exit, pulling you with him and you laugh too, enjoying the moment you were having with him. You passed by many people, who had glanced at the both of you, confused to why you both were leaving prom when it barely started, but you both couldn't care less. You both laughed as loud as possible, dashing past all the luxurious furniture and the chandelier's that were above the both of you. He pushed the tall doors open before leading you to the outside of the building, the sky being a pitch black and the chill air immediately making you shiver. He instantly noticed and quickly let go of your hand to remove his blazer, wrapping it around you.

"T-thank you," you nervously spoke out, giving him a soft smile.

"Anytime baby." he grinned. He took your hand again, interlocking it before walking, swinging your interlocked hands up and down. You enjoyed being with him, but realising that you were leaving prom, you had no idea what you two were going to do now.

"Ni-ki, where are we going now?" you questioned.

He playfully looked back and smirked, "I don't know, let's just see where our feet takes us."

Tonight, the world only consisted of you and Ni-ki.

Next thing you knew, you were at a bowling alley with Ni-ki. The bowling shoe that the alley provided felt so much better on your feet, and you both constantly kept laughing at each other. Considering that it was night time, there was now a lot of people, but once again, you both couldn't care less. You cheered at all the strike's that Ni-ki managed to get, and he teased you everytime you got a gutter.

When you were getting annoyed at the fact you were having a gutter streak, he stood up, walking behind you as he held your arm and waist, guiding you through the momentum. The way that your bodies were so closed made you feel so flustered, and after he taught you, you quickly picked up a ball and threw it the same way he taught you, scoring your first strike. As soon as all the pins fell down, you looked back at Ni-ki who was sitting down behind you, smiling and cheering. He cheered as loudly as you, congratulating you and running towards you to give you a hug.

Now, you two were at a Billiards to play pool. You watched as the few strands of hair fell over his eyes as he leaned down to find the correct angle to hit the white ball. You looked at him with such loving eyes, and once he hit the white ball in, one solid ball went in, and he immediately looked up at you and smirked.

"We already know who's going to win" he teased, and you playfully rolled your eyes, gripping the pool stick you were holding onto tighter.

"Sure.. sure.." you replied sarcastically.

Spoiler alert : You won because you were too good, and Ni-ki helped you out. Mainly the latter.

You two were walking on an empty street, the streetlights only being the source of light when your feet started to hurt from your heels. You tried to hide it but the way you were limping practically gave it away. Ni-ki halted to a stop, making you stop as well. "Stop here," he ordered. Your eyebrows raised at him, worried that he realised that you were hurting, "W-why?".

"You're limping. Your heels hurt, don't they?" he asked. You tried to deny, "It's okay! It doesn't hurt that much—" "Sit down there, now." he said, pointing to the bench that was an arm's length away.

You sigh as he guided you to the chair, resting yourself on it. You placed the bouquet he had gifted you earlier and was about to remove the heels by yourself, when he stopped you.

"Stop, I'll do it." he said, kneeling down in front of you to remove your heels. He was gentle with your feet, knowing that it was probably sore from walking around with heels for the entire night. You watched as he treated you with such gentleness, and your hand made it's way to his head, caressing his hair and patting him. He didn't say anything, but you noticed a curl at the corners at his mouth, making you grin.

After he had removed your heels, he stood up and started to remove his own shoes when he got stopped by you, "Wait what? What shoes are you going to wear then?!". You were concerned for him, not wanting him to walk around barefoot.

He chuckled, successfully removing his shoes and responding, "It's okay, I have socks on anyways". You tried to fight against the idea of him walking around with only socks but he kneeled down and gently inserted your feet into his shoes, which were significantly more comfortable than your heels.

You felt guilty that you were being a burden on him, but he stood back up, now face-to-face with you before he spoke out, "The prettiest girl in the world deserves to be comfortable at all time, okay? Now let's go." He held out his hand, the other hand holding your heels and you took his hand, using your other hand to pick up the bouquet.

Next thing you know, you both were at a karaoke studio. Considering it was now super late, there were many rooms that were available so you both could easily book a room. You both enterred the room, noticing the mini disco lights lighting up the dim room. You sat yourself on the couch as you watched Ni-ki close the door behind him and sit himself beside you.

"Any song in mind?" you asked him. "I have one." he responded, before he gently placed down your heels on the area beside him and picking up the machine that allowed him to pick songs and control the song queue. You patiently waited and hummed, thinking about what songs you two could sing when a song started playing, breaking your train of thoughts. You looked at the screen, and the song title was nicely displayed on the screen.

Falling - Chase Atlantic

He picked up the microphone that was nicely set on the table and stood up, walking over to the opposite side of you and started singing,

"Pour another bottle to the floor, love.

he raised his eyebrows at you and gave you a soft smile.

Pushin' for it, oh you know I want some.'Cause everything you do is screaming says it's 'more drugs'.It's kinda sad, but it's awesome."

He shook his body on beat, preparing to sing the pre-chorus.

"Oh, we've lost it. Screeching off with no name, she said 'watch this'. With her hands in the rain, call it conflict, as you should. And you ain't gunna stop this, stop this.

He quickly cleared his throat, preparing for the upcoming chorus. He wanted to sing it to you. This song was only for you, dedicated to you.

And you keep on falling baby, figure it out. Drive slow, straightforward or I'm walking around. And your dad keeps caling, tell him, 'Cut that shit out'. Just keep steering, keep steering, now."

You gazed at him affectionately, you felt like you could explode right now from the way your entire face was red and your heart was beating so fast. You stood up and ran up to him, bringing him to an embrace and connecting your lips with his.

You checked your phone, and it was almost 1a.m. You had multiple missed calls and messages asking where you were from your friends, but you were too carried away to worry about them. Right now, you were at a photobooth with Ni-ki that was conveniently placed beside a convenience store. You sat beside him, not knowing what poses to do. He inserted the cash into the machine, and the screen instantly displayed a countdown, indicating it was time to take photos. You quickly panicked and looked at Ni-ki not knowing what to do. He chuckled before he wrapped his arm around your neck and pulled you closer.

First photo, he was wrapping his arm around you and kissing your cheek. You had a shocked expression on your face.

Second photo, you both were folding your arms, back-to-back as you both had cool and mischevious expressions on your face.

Third photo, you two were holding up finger guns to the camera and biting your lips.

The last photo.. You two were kissing, his hands cupping your face and your arms wrapping around his neck.

After the photobooth, there was suddenly awkwardness between the both of you. You always kissed him, but something about that kiss in the photobooth made your heart race more. You cleared your throat, trying to break the silence. You looked at him and realised he was staring at you, and you chuckle, "You're literally going to stare a hole into me".

He grinned, before taking your hand into his. "It's getting late, I'll bring you back to the dorms, yeah?". You nodded at him, and he pulled out his phone to call a taxi driver.

When you were in the taxi, you rested your head on his shoulder, his thumb caressing your hand and his other hand gently squishing your thigh. You felt sleepy, and he softly sang a lullaby, his deep voice making you feel more at ease. You closed your eyes, and allowed yourself to sleep.

Once you woke up, you quickly looked around to see if you were still in the taxi, but no. You were already nicely laid down on your bed, and the first thing you wanted to find was Ni-ki. As soon as you were about to get up, your bedroom door opened and it was Ni-ki. He was shirtless, and his pants already changed into the clothing he had left the last time he came over. He noticed your awake figure, and chuckled, slowly making his way to you.

"You're awake?"

You mentally cursed at yourself. You initially planned to sleep only until the taxi has reached your destination, and not burden Ni-ki to carry you all the way home, "I'm so sorry..". You ruffled your hair and groaned, feeling guilty.

"For what?" he sat beside you on the mattress, looking at you.

"I didn't mean to be a burden, I mean, wasn't it hard to bring me hom—" "Not at all. Don't worry about it, okay?" he tucked a hair behind your eyes and smiled.

You nervously spoke up, "And won't your mom kill you if you stay the night?". He raised his eyebrows, "She knows it's you, it's okay baby, don't worry about it."

You furrowed your eyebrows, "Are you sure? I don't want to give you anymore trouble..".

He embraced you and brought you down the bed, hugging you tightly. "Why would you be giving me any trouble?", he asked.

You hesitated, thinking of an answer but he continued, "I don't find you a burden at all, baby."

You remained quiet, ruffling your head into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"You're the best thing that has happened to me, okay? So don't ever call yourself a burden." he reassured, playing with your hair and patting your back.

You felt so lucky that this boy was your boyfriend. This boy was like the lottery, and you can't believe that you won him, you couldn't believe he felt the same as you.

"Ni-ki." "Yes, love?" "You know I love you so much, right?" you looked up at him, and he looked back down at you, a smile evident on his face. "I love you so much too." he responded, leaning closer to place his lips on yours.

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luvlyycy · 7 months ago

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a/n — hiiii , >< . the bed pic is YOUR bedroom fyi. also, this is a cheating fic cus reader has a bf (toji) n yknow blahblahblah blah. 'n kuna smokes. (its bad for your lungs, i dont even smoke lol) also kuna is bi curious lmao. chubby reader !!!!

♡ ──╮꒰ Summary ! ꒱ , , , Your boyfriend bugs Sukuna. It isn't the fact that he dislikes Toji, he actually really (reallllyyyyy) likes him— but it's the fact that he's fucking you and Sukuna isn't.

He thinks it's been around five years since Toji had been his roommate, not bothering to actually pinpoint the years. He tolerates Toji, and by that I mean, they are really good friends. They'll smoke together whenever the chance arises— maybe go out for a drink as well. Sukuna really liked the guy, seriously. Although, there was one thing about him that really ticked him off.

Toji was a whore.

That's not said lightly, I mean fuck, the guy already got a kid. Every single fucking night there was some curvy hyper-feminine bimbo latched onto his roommate's arm. He would always hear the stupid fucking moaning, or cringe-worthy screams of a girl who watched way too much porn. That's not to say Sukuna didn't get his fuck on every now and then, but Toji was on another level. He's shocked his dick hasn't broke. He started to notice that there was one girl in particular who showed up more than the others, sometimes multiple times in a row.

Pretty girl, he thought, she doesn't moan like the others, not over dramatic, dresses cute, likes pink- you were really his type. Eventually during one of the smoke sessions between him and Toji, he brought it up.

"So," Sukuna started, sliding a hand through his hair as he sniffed, "you datin' that new bitch?" he chuckled out as he turned to his black-haired buddy who was taking a quick hit from the blunt before turning his head.

"Yeah, think so. Girl said she love me." he lets out a soft 'tch' noise in amusement, smoke exiting out from his mouth as he did so. He handed the bud over, watching how Sukuna's lips curled upward-

"She's pretty. Like, real cute type shit." he laughs as he grabs the blunt from Toji, placing it in his mouth and taking a short breath in, blowing out smoke afterwards.

"Her pussy's good too."

"Ah?" Sukuna let out, leaning his head back against the couch, his mind unfortunately wandering. Was it really? You probably have a tight pussy, maybe creamy. You'd look cute squirting. He smiles to himself before quickly frowning. He's only seen you in passing, he doesn't even know your name. The only words exchanged between the two of you were hello's and bye's.

'ding!'

Toji looks at his phone, seemingly reading a message, "Speak of the devil," he starts, causing Sukuna to glance over, "she wants me to come over for dinner. Said I could bring ya. You tryna come?"

He takes a moment, thinking before his mouth spoke before he could think, "Sure.".

That's how it started, seeming to be a routine of some sort, you would either cook or order dinner and invite them both over for movies- but, Sukuna had couch duty. Every night he would watch you cutely drag Toji to your bed room, sparkling lights catching his eyes for just a mere second before the door shut and your giggling died out. Like clockwork, he'd think, you would start moaning, squealing, whining, whimpering- it drove him crazy. Unlike the other girls Toji was into, you seemed to actually have a brain, seemed to actually register that your real moaning was fucking magnificent. He would be able to hear your soft sobs, 'what if we wake s'kuna?' , slurring over your words.

That would be the only time you said his name, the rest would be Toji. Some nights he would find himself pathetically pawing at his cock in his pants, it fucking hurts to be this hard, he thinks.

"Look at ya, creaming all over my cock. Ya like that? Yeah?"

Sukuna shut his eyes, pulling his pants down just below his heavy aching balls, grunting as he grabs hold of his throbbing dick.

"Mhhh, fuuuck— yes, yes, fucking love it. Oh godd."

You sounded so breathless, in such bliss. He moves his hand up and down, stroking his length as he pictured he was the one making you sound like that- he was the one making you cream on his cock. He let your name slip pass his pierced lips, as he circles his fist to match the pace he heard. Hard, fast, and rough.

"G'nna cum.." he mumbles, hearing a soft 'me too' from behind your door, he matches the routine by painting his abdomen white, muscles tense as he slams his head against the couch.

Fuck my life, he thinks.

Those nights were more often then not, but he wouldn't pay it any mind- in his eyes he were a measly cuck. That word hanging over him like a L on his forehead.

He's memorized your place by now, typically staying in the kitchen or living room— the kitchen happens to be his favorite. Even though sometimes you cook, you usually make him do it, saying when he's high he makes better food. It's cute 'n all, but it pulls at his heart— you like eating his food. He'll watch you eat his food, your cute eyes bright as you chomp, squishy cheeks full of food he made.

Stupid, he thinks as he sits beside Toji, blunt between his fingers as he stares at the ceiling— the ceiling is white, it accompanies your light pink decor.

"You look fucked." he hears Toji laugh out beside him, his eyes are half-lidded and he has a lopsided grin on his mouth per usual— scar on his lip stretching.

"Yeah?" Sukuna hazily replies moving his hand over to the other male's, passing the blunt. Toji fully grins, watching as Sukuna's eyes follow his tongue when he licks his lips, "Yeah.".

Sukuna watches as Toji places the blunt in his mouth, still looking at his so-called buddy, he sucks in a breath— taking his time to let out a quick groan as he does so.

Sukuna places his fingers subtly on Toji's bicep, pupils blown out— "You're fucking hot." .

Toji snickers, holding in smoke before grabbing Sukuna's cheek, he opens his mouth and lets the smoke roll out before chuckling afterward— Sukuna breathes in the smoke through his nose, eyes fluttering shut before opening when Toji releases him.

Toji stretches his arms out in front of him, " 'ight , let's clean this shit up 'fore she get back 'n whoop my ass." he turns his head towards the dazed man beside him, grinning again.

"Yeah, let's do that."

He doesn't know what the fuck is wrong with him. Is it Toji or you? He didn't even know he liked Toji like that— he was just high. Yeah, just high. He spends time cleaning up all the bud and freshening up the place before you get back, and when you do Toji kisses you on your glossy plump lips that Sukuna wish he could kiss too.

" Mind stayin' wit Sukuna for the day, baby?" he says, placing his hands on your waist— thumbs massaging your skin. "Why? Where you off to?" you frown as you hold your shopping bags at your side, squinting at your boyfriend.

"G'nna workout, relax." he laughs as he turns to Sukuna, who's seemingly beginning to sober up— you glance at him too, smiling as you look up at Toji, "Okay, don't be long alright? Or I'm whoopin' yo ass." you giggle, placing a chaste kiss to Toji, muttering 'love you' against his lips before he says it too.

You hop over to your couch, sitting down with a soft 'unf' before setting your bag in your lap as Toji gets ready to leave. Sukuna looks at you, silent— he's quietly taking in your beauty, your skirt leaving your thighs exposed, pretty pink nails holding onto your bag.

"Hey," you start.

"Ah??" he replies.

"Can you hold my bag for a sec? Bein' all dolled up is tirin'." you stifle a small giggle as you hold out your bag towards the man beside you, fingers adorned with silver rings grab onto the bag.

After you get up, it takes you a few minutes to unwind and get undressed— during that, Sukuna stares at the bag that you previously had in your lap, which is now in his. Whatever's in it is soft, he pictures a plushy— maybe a cat? Girls like cats. He uses pointer-finger and thumb to spread the bag open, glancing in it.

He spots earrings, necklaces, and— ah a plushie, a cat. It's a tiger. He'd grin, sharp canines mocking the plushie's as he did so. He places two fingers on the small toy's cheeks, squishing— it is.. kind of cute.. he frowns. Squish, squish. Squish, squish. His lips curl into a small smile, continuing his antics until he's snapped out of it—

"You can have it if you want, Kuna." you giggle, hips swaying as you walk towards the couch, oversized t-shirt n some short shorts on as you sit.

He frowns pushing the bag off his lap and laying it atop the table, "Whatever.".

You and he were undoubtedly close friends, there would be times like this when Toji would leave and you and he would be alone. You were touchy but too overly— you would place your legs on his lap and he would hold your feet, hand resting on your knee. The cold metal of his rings tickling your skin— similar to now.

Sukuna glances at the bag of bud on the table, then at you— being high around you was better than being sober, he thought.

"You smoke?" he questioned, reaching for your pink tray, not that you ever used it. You only had it for him n Toji.

"Nah," you lifted one of your legs, hands playing with the hem of your shirt, "I like my lungs." you giggle. Sukuna lets out a soft huff in amusement, beginning to roll a blunt for himself.

You turn your head towards the television, a shitty reality show about dating on, merely as background noise.

"Why you let me 'n Toji smoke in your house then?" he questions, your head turning towards him— licking your lower lip as he licks the wrap for his blunt, a smirk on his lips.

" 'Cause he's my boyfriend 'n you kinda like his boytoy, I guess." you look away, used to having this sculpture-like being in your home, distracting yourself by watching the shitty show mentioned earlier.

Sukuna scoffed, after a small while he placed the tray down and lighted his blunt, taking a few tries before tossing the lighter onto the table.

"His boytoy, huh? Never thought about that shit." he wraps his left hand around your ankle and pulls, making you giggle. You scoot closer to him, the back of your thighs on his as your bum resting on the couch.

'ding!'

Sukuna glances over at his phone on the arm of the couch, huffing out smoke as he taps on the message from Toji, an image to be precise.

Toji was flexing in the mirror, a grin adorning his features as sweat stuck to his forehead, hair just a bit messier than usual. He had no shirt on, grey sweatpants dangerously low on his waist— captioned with, 'shoulda came with me .' .

He huffs for a moment, eyes lingering far too long on the image before shutting it off and tossing it on the table, moving his attention toward you noticing how you watched TV with no interest.

He swaps hands, blunt now in his left— right hand grazing our cranium, fingers scratching at your scalp, "Wanna change the channel?" he asks as he does so. You let out a soft 'mnh', laying your head on his shoulder, scooting closer to his warmth.

Sukuna curses himself, how could he ever let Toji find you before he did? On the other hand, he's trying his hardest not to let his dick grow. Hyperaware of how you two are sitting, he glances down at your bare legs, then drags his gaze down to your ankles and right back up to your plump thighs. He fights the urge to fucking groan. He looks at your face, taking note of how your lips are almost touching his shirt— he wants to kiss you so bad.

He finds himself whispering your name, watching as your eyes flick up to meet his, seemingly sleepy.

"Yeah?"

If there had been an angel in his life it was you, he thinks as he turns his head away, taking a quick and small hit from the blunt fingers still rubbing at your scalp. He's at a loss for words— you pat his chest.

"What is it, Kuna?"

Fuck it.

He turns his head towards you, gripping the back of your cranium, he takes two moments to gauge your reactions— watching the way your mouth opens in a panic, then he kisses you.

You groan into his mouth as he just holds you there for a moment waiting to see if you'll reciprocate. It takes about a minute. He licks at your lips and you open them.

You fucking open your lips— for him.

He groans into your mouth as he begins to lick at every crevice in your mouth, tasting you. You whimper, before he pulls away, throwing his blunt onto the tray—

"Can we go to my room, Kuna? Ion like doin' it on my couch."

You've been fucked on the couch. Noted. He'd have to do that too.

"Lead the way." he huffs out, you press a small kiss against his lips before getting up, hand wrapped around his tattooed wrist— Sukuna follows you like a lost dog, managing to take his weed along with him.

You open the door to your room and he smiles at the sight of it— pink and white decorating your room as well as a light pink canopy hanging over your bed with dim yellow lights. You lead him towards your bed, plopping your butt on your soft bed as he stands over you— you lean backward, hands on the bed as you smile up at him.

Sukuna places a hand on your jaw, similar to the way Toji had done to him, before placing his lips on yours. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck, dragging him down with you as you lay your back down.

Sukuna pulls away to look at your pretty face, admiring the way your eyes flickered from his lips then to his eyes, he grins— "You want me t'fuck ya?" he latches his lips onto your neck, kissing and licking, making his way down your body.

"God, Kuna..." you huff, hands grabbing onto the bigger male's shoulders, watching as he places his blunt and the lighter from his pocket on the pink desk beside your bed.

He drags his hands up your shirt, fingers reaching for your breasts— he kneads the supple flesh before rubbing and pulling at your nipples, his face right in front of them. He groans as he takes your shirt off, finding it troublesome, he takes a moment to ogle your breasts— latching his mouth on your left nipple, using his other hand to squish your nipple.

You arch your back into him, hands pulling on his locks as you squirm— he feels similar to Toji you thought, but much more sloppy. He slobbers on your tits before moving down to your shorts, he hooks his arm around your waist, sitting on his knees.

He peels your shorts off, groaning when he sees you wearing no panties, and that you're fucking soaked. He throws the shorts somewhere around the room eyes still hooked to your soaking fat pussy practically just waiting for him. Sukuna wraps another arm around your waist and pulls your pussy up to his mouth, treating you as if you were a doll. He attempts to wrap his mouth around your entire mound, licking and sucking at your clit and dragging his fat tongue in and out of your cunt.

He groans as he licks up all your juices, listening to your moans and whimpers when he bumps his nose on your clit— licking on your pussy lips to ensure he gets all the juices. "F—uhh,ck. Kunaaa... kuna, 'm gonna cum—.. nnnnhh."

"Gh, fuck. Cum, I want you to cum all over my fuckin' face." he huffs, burying his face into your heat and rewarding himself with pornographic moans from your mouth as he shakes his head side to side, his spit dripping from your shiny pussy down to your ass. You let out a long whine, hands shaking as you try to grab onto anything to ground yourself— squirming to attempt to run away. His grip tightens around your waist as he rides out your orgasm, squirt dribbling out of you and onto his tongue.

He stuffs his mouth full of your cunt for a few more minutes before letting you go, laying you flat in front of him.

You look at him through lidded eyes, watching as he licks his lips and wipes his chin, leaning down to kiss you again— forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

"Was that good, baby?" he whispers into your mouth, lowering his hand to your pussy to rub at your swollen clit earning a hiss from you. "Fuck, kuna, it's too much. Can't take it..—"

Haven't even fucked her yet, he thinks, grinning similar to the tiger plush you both left in the living room. Sukuna leans backward, removing his black shirt and throwing it away, silver accessories adorning his skin. You stare at his chest, eyes traveling along his tattoos before you pull on his black jeans, "take 'em off?", you ask.

"Take 'em off? Ya sure? Ya sure your pretty lil pussy can even take my dick?"

You pout, hands wrapping around your breasts, "pleeasee?"

He snickers, unbuckling his black belt and pulling it through the loops, then removing his jeans along with his boxers.

You glance down at his cock, watching his throb— he was a little longer than Toji, not thicker but definitely longer.

"Don't say it ain't gonna fit 'cus I know it will." he places his hand flat on your stomach, his rings now warm from all the times he touched you. He rubs the tip of his swollen cock against your clit, bumping it— "Stop squirmin', movin' too damn much." he huffs, letting you lift your legs and wrap your hands around them, squishing your tummy n boobs in the process.

He feels the rolls of your stomach underneath his hand and he smiles— you feel and look so beautiful, he must be blessed to have you even showing your cunt to him— Toji probably felt the same.

He uses his thumb to spread open your sticky pussy lips, watching clear bubbles seep out of your hole— he lets out a moan at the sight, removing his hand from your tummy to grab his cock, rubbing the tip on your entrance. He pushes the tip of his dick inside of you, eyes hooked on the way your cunt sucks him in.

"Your pussy always feel this good?"

you whimper in response, feeling your cunt stretch around Sukuna's cock, heavy balls resting on the curve of your ass.

Sukuna pulls your body closer to him, leaning over you as he reaches toward the desk beside your bed, grabbing his blunt and lighter — he places the blunt between his lips, using his hand to cover his lighter, taking a few tries but he lights it. He grins as he holds the smoke in his mouth, putting the blunt out on your shirt on the bed before tossing it back on the desk.

He holds the smoke in his mouth, placing his hands on either side of your head as he slowly drives his cock into your cunt— causing you to suck in a sharp breath.

"feels.. s'good, kuna." you huff, feeling his cock splitting you open is intoxicating— the mushroom tip of his dick pushing at your cervix. He takes a second to groan, smoke coming out from his nose and blowing on your face. He pulls his hips back and thrusts back into your heat— grin spreading on his face.

It's like a dream, the way your pussy sucks in his cock— the way your sloppy fucking cunt doesn't wanna let go of him— fuck, it's enough to make a man cry. It takes him a few seconds before he begins pumping his cock into you, driving as deep as he physically can. He wraps his fingers into your hair, pulling your head back— blowing out the smoke onto your skin.

"Feel good, mama?—" he growls, sharp canines sinking into your neck, surely leaving a mark for Toji to see. You nod absent-mindedly, lifting your hips to match along with his thrusts— your juices dripping from your entrance and onto the bed. "Yeah?" he leans up to watch your fucked out expression, admiring the way fat tears prickled in the corners of your eyes— mouth wide open as you spew out incoherent babbles. It's cute, you're cute— making such a silly face due to the onslaught he's giving to your cunt.. what a sight.

He can feel your pussy convulse, feel it get tighter— twitching around his fat cock, "You cummin'?" .

You grip his shoulders, legs shaking as you try desperately to come down from your high— it doesn't take awhile before he's pulling another orgasm out of your sensitive cunt. He grabs onto the back of your thighs, pressing them against your chest to drive his cock deeper into you. It takes everything in him not to cum, especially when your squirt drenches him and trickles down his balls.

His jaw clenches as he wraps his arms around your legs, hands resting on your cheeks, rings cold again.

" Mhh, I'm gonna cum in this slutty pussy." he snickers when he feels you're nearly loose pussy tighten around him, babbles of 'no's' or 'toji's gnna find out' exit your cute swollen lips. He doesn't care if Toji finds out. It doesn't bother him at all— not when the thought of Toji fucking his cum into you crosses his mind. Toji cumming in the same pussy that holds his spunk? Sounds like heaven in his mind.

"Da— nnnfg, fuck, daddy—"

He grins. You're so fucked stupid, you don't even register what you're saying.

"Huh, what is it, sweetie? Ngh, what do you want— fuuh, ck. Whaddya want from daddy?" he slows his hips, pressing his lips on yours in a soft kiss.

"You want daddy's cum?—" he scoffed, leaning down to press multiple kisses on your face as he fucks into you slowly— in an attempt to prolong his oncoming climax. You nod, hands now pressed against Sukuna's hard body leaving angry red marks in their wake.

"Words."

"Yes !!"

"I'll give it to ya then, mama. Fuck a baby into this cheating pussy." he babbles, picking up the pace— cock bullying your pussy, the fat mushroom tip poking into your cervix almost painfully. It doesn't take a while until he feels himself about to cum, letting out quick breathy groans.

"Kiss me." he groans out, you whine as you press your drool-laced lips on his, his snakebite piercings poking your lips as you kiss him— your tongues tangling together merely just licking against each other's, mouths open.

He whines for a second before moaning into your mouth, pressing his cock into you.

One, two, three, four— until he's emptying his heavy balls inside of you, spraying his seed everywhere. "Oh fuck, oh fuck," he repeats, still mindlessly humping into you until his cock goes flaccid, it doesn't register to him that you came as well.

You both stay there for a while, your legs sore as he still holds you in position, evidently folding you. He breathes slowly as he presses his forehead against yours, using his thumb to wipe tears away from your cheeks.

He stifles a whimper as he pulls out of you, the sudden emptiness making you wince— he lays beside you, leaning up against your pink wall, pink pillows against his back.

"Kuna??.."

"Huh?" he glances at your sleepy face, your eyes droopy as you attempt to get comfortable in your bed. Sukuna assists you by placing the blanket over your sore body.

"I'm sleepy." you giggle as Sukuna scrunches up his nose at you, using his hand to tickle your neck— "Sleep then." he stops as you just nod, still dazed by the sex you had earlier.

He watches as you snuggle up in your bed, laying your head on one of your many pillows. He looks for his phone, remembering he left it in the living room— he groans, getting out of the warm embrace of which was your bed. He pulls on his jeans, not bothering to button them up before exiting your room and entering the living room.

He spots his phone on the table where he must have thrown it, he bends over to grab it when he hears the door open and close— fuck. Sukuna gazes up to spot Toji walking through the door, sweaty. Black hair a mess as it sticks to his face, lips curling into a frown once he notices Sukuna without a shirt.

Sukuna stands up straight, stuffing his phone in his pocket before Toji can speak— big arms folded over, black compress shirt stretching over his muscles.

"Guess I'm late to the shit rockin' party." he huffs out, stepping closer to the male standing across from him. "Ya coulda asked me, asshole." he mumbles, one hand being pressed on Sukuna's chest forcefully.

It's strange, off-putting nearly. Toji didn't seem mad.

Sukuna stifled a chuckle, hand running through his hair, "Guess I couldn't wait." he responds, watching as Toji grins, scar enlarging.

"Lemme guess, she's asleep?"

Sukuna nods, hands now resting on his hips, eyes searching Toji's face for any discomfort— it feels as if he had been the one to cheat. Toji tilts his head to the side, stepping closer to the point where his chest had nearly hit Sukuna's.

"You up for another fuck?" large hands land on the other's waist, his thumb which had been painted pink by you rubbing circles into his skin.

"Although, you won't be the one doing the fucking." grin.

tags [ @cindol ] also, ty cinny for dealing with me while writing this stupid fucking novel. i added multiple tojikuna stuff for you too!! love u babezzz <3

do NOT repost or translate without my permission. this post belongs to @luvlyycy . plagiarism is illegal.

#sigh #enjoy this . idk how many words it is but its long.#ryomen sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader #tojikuna #toji x sukuna #i kinda hate this but yk .#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader

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