#drawing him is a bit difficult at the minute

[avcdgrdn]

── .✦ [ FIC ]: can i really stay here? [ part three ]

[ part one & part two ]

mullet stanley pines x innkeeper reader

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw

word count: 1765

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

he was so obviously staring at you.

it was a crisp fall morning, and a light sweat formed on your brow as you swept the floor by the front desk. you’d been at it for a while, and about halfway through, stan had meandered down the stairs and happened to see you. presently, he was casually leaning against the wall, and you could feel his eyes on your back.

there were moments where you’d turn your head in his direction, and he would jolt and quickly look the other way. you rolled your eyes amusedly, wondering what he could be thinking of.

after a moment of thought, you spoke up, your gaze still focused on the broom in your hands. “so, whatcha doin’, stan?”

there was nobody else in the lobby, so he didn’t really have a good excuse to pull out of his back pocket. he looked up, drumming his fingers against the wall. “uhhh … nothin’. what’s it to ya?”

“you know, you can come closer if you want to.” you shook your head, chuckling. the broad-built man sighed in defeat, pushing himself off of the wall and walking over to lean against the front desk instead.

as you continued to sweep, he pursed his lips, fidgeting with the edge of his t-shirt. “hey, uh. i been thinkin’.”

you gave him a glance over your shoulder. “yeah?”

one of his hands wandered up to his shaggy mullet, tugging absentmindedly at chocolate brown hairs. “well, i’ve been stayin’ with you for a few days now … and i really appreciate your help. i … i’m still tryin’ ta think of ways to make a buck, but … a–anyway, what’s i’m saying is—”

he stammered, blushing faintly as he averted his gaze. it was frustratingly difficult to be so open and honest.

“ … is–is there any way i could help you out? since i’m not payin’ at all …”

you straightened, turning to fully face him. his desire to settle his debt was endearing, but you knew in your heart that he really didn’t owe you anything. you wanted him to have someone to watch out for him, someone to care about him.

someone to … love him.

“i really appreciate it, but it’s okay.” you grinned, warm with compassion.

stan blinked, and he suddenly found that his heart was aching in his chest again. just as it had at the diner, as it had when he took that key from your hand …

his square jaw clenched shut as your genuine empathy pierced into him like daggers.

“please.”

he almost sounded desperate.

“i, uh. i just don’t like ta feel useless.”

after studying his expression for a moment, your smile softened.

“okay.” swiftly, you extended the broom towards him, raising your brows. “wanna finish sweeping in the lobby? i can start on the dusting.”

immediately, he lit up. “alright, angel. i’ll sweep this place so good, you’d never guess that anyone’s set foot in it.”

taking hold of the broomstick, the brunet got to work, happily gathering dust bunnies, crumbs, and random bits of trash that various customers had left behind. you rummaged around in the supply closet for the duster, pulling it out and starting to clean up different decorative objects and shelftops.

the soft music emanating from the record player served to create a peaceful atmosphere. occasionally, one or two patrons would pass through, but for the most part, it was quiet.

after you’d taken care of all the dusty surfaces in the room, you put the duster away, lighting a pumpkin spice scented candle and carefully placing it on a table in the center of the lobby.

“hmm ... wow, that’s nice.” stan hummed, clearly affected by the calming aroma.

“i know, right? i love having this scent in the fall–”

you stopped abruptly upon seeing the perfectly clean floors. it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, and yet all of it was spotless.

“wow, stan, you made quick work of that! good job!”

stanley puffed out his chest, clearly smug and quite proud of himself, like a small child showing you a drawing they had worked hard on. “i told you. ain’t i helpful?”

“you’re a huge help, thank you.”

he hadn’t been praised like this in so long. he was practically glowing at this point.

“so, er … what else can i help ya with?” he stepped closer to you, hands on his hips.

you racked your brain in an attempt to think of what else needed to get done around the inn. “oh, i know. a shipment arrived for us earlier today, but they’re both heavy boxes that i can’t quite move on my own. would you w–”

“I’M ON IT! lead the way, sweetheart!”

“o–okay–” you led him around to the back to collect the packages, trying so hard not to let his pet names affect you. nonetheless, you were blushing like an idiot.

next thing you knew, you were watching him carry two heavy boxes with ease, one on each arm. he had rolled up his jacket sleeves, revealing his muscular forearms.

… it’s fall, right? it’s not supposed to be this hot in here.

“where to, toots?” he grunted, arching a brow.

“uh … the storage room. this way.” you were avoiding eye contact as much as possible. everything about this guy was attractive right now.

oh God, don’t let me die yet…

after the contents of the boxes were successfully unloaded and put away, the two of you sat at the kitchen bar, helping yourselves to the lunch that your chef had made. stan ate enthusiastically, probably in the best mood that you’d ever seen him in. why that was, exactly, you weren’t sure—you were too overwhelmed to figure it out. there was just something about the way he looked at you that was making you silently freak out.

i know that he’s been calling me names even since we first met. it seems like it’s just a thing that he does with everyone … but lately, they really don’t feel like just names.

i don’t know. am i going crazy? i might be. and yet …

chewing on a mouthful of rice, you snuck a sideways peek at the man beside you, admiring his chiseled jaw and dark brown hair. that is, until he caught you looking, and you nearly choked on your food.

“what? ‘s there somethin’ on my face?” he chuckled, his tone taunting.

“i, uh, i thought there might’ve been–but you’re fine. no worries.” bullcrap.

“hah, whatever you say.”

you continued to eat in silence. your fork was slipping in your hand.

just great. my palms are sweating.

this … hasn’t happened to you since high school. butterflies and blushing suddenly clouded your brain whenever he was close to you. how did it even start? he just walked into your life, and …

you were so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t process stan calling your name for the third time in a row. it wasn’t until he put his hand on your shoulder that you snapped out of it.

“gh– huh?” your face was redder than a cherry tomato.

“hey, you alright? yer actin’ all spacey.” he was evidently concerned this time. “how many fingers am i holdin’ up?”

“f–four.” you exhaled, rubbing your temples with one hand. “i’m fine, just lost in thought, is all. thanks, stan.” you offered a small smile as you fought the raging butterflies in your stomach.

stan nodded in understanding, gently taking his hand off your shoulder.

“okay, just lemme know if you need anything.”

with that, he took care of his plate, rinsing it off in the sink before making his way up to his room. your chef walked into the kitchen, shooting you a look as you handed him your half-full plate.

“sorry, i don’t think i can eat any more. i’m feeling … nauseous.”

it was around six o’clock in the evening now, and you sat up in your personal living room on the very top floor of the inn, falling deeper and deeper into your thoughts.

do i … really like him that much?

am i in love?

you tangled your fingers into your hair, hunching over slightly.

but … so quickly? i’ve only known him for a number of days. is that a thing that happens!?

what if he doesn’t like me back? what if he flirts with everyone? what if he thinks i’m weird for liking him? does he know i like him?

just then, you heard a knocking on your door.

oh.

heart thudding violently in your chest, you swallowed your anxiety, standing up from your sofa to find out who it could be. you turned the doorknob, letting it swing open.

the first thing you saw was a beautiful bouquet of red tulips.

your gaze trailed up to find stanley’s broad figure, dressed in slacks and a flattering button-up top. he had pulled his hair back into a ponytail, although a few stray hairs remained out of place.

his brown eyes met your own, and your breath hitched in your throat.

“hey. listen, uh … these are for you, first of all.” he handed the bouquet to you, which you mindlessly accepted, being unable to look away from his face.

“i … wanted t’ properly say thank you. lettin’ me stay here has helped me get my mind right ‘nd allowed me to think about the important things.”

he took a breath.

“and, well … i figured out that you’re real important to me. so. i–i was wonderin’ if you’d wanna grab dinner tonight?”

“… dinner?”

“y–yeah, like a date–”

your cheeks flushed a dark shade of red, matching the tulips you held in your arms.

stan tripped over his words, staring at the floor. “and i, uh—i understand if you’re not interested–”

“no! i mean, yes! yes, i’m–i’m very interested.” you rushed to answer him, not fully realizing that a gleeful smile had broken out onto your expression. “i just … wow …”

he laughed, beaming with joy as he realized that the answer was yes. “oh, damn, i didn’t actually expect to get this far…!” gently, he scooped you into a snug embrace, lifting you off of your feet slightly. “thank you, angel.”

“... anything for you.” you murmured in reply, hugging him back for a sweet moment before the two of you stepped apart. “let me just get ready, then.”

“sounds good, doll. i’ll be waitin’ downstairs.”

and just like that, the door was shut, and you were left to stare at the red tulips in your hands.

end

author's note:

screaming into a pillow kicking my feet giggling

i wrote this one so fast somehow ??? i had a vision

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[jinwoosungs]

09/26/24; 12:20pm

- the academy arc -

yandere!sung jinwoo x fem.reader

anonymous asked: Hello! I've always admired your writing, and finally thought of an ask for you! What about yandere jinwoo with an oblivious reader? Its kinda funny how the reader has so much influence over him, and dont realize it, after all, how could they think he's dangerous when he's all soft for them, and only them... Oblivious to all the danger he causes to others

warnings: incredibly dark themes; harassment and petty bullying.

you felt butterflies erupting all across your abdomen, feeling your gaze darting all across the new sights and scenery of your high school. feeling a bit uncomfortable, you pull at the collar of your blouse and adjusted your tie at least a hundred times leading up to this very moment.

tightening your grip on your bag, you hardened your resolve and nodded, stepping into the school with as much confidence that you could manage. avoiding the crowd of students, you kept to yourself and take the flight of stairs up to the second floor. you trail your eyes across the labeled classroom before entering the one labeled 2-a.

you pass by a boy wearing a single glove, reading his textbook while flipping the pages with a bored expression. he sits near the back row, and you take the opposing corner, trying to remain as small as possible while getting out your pencils and notebooks for the day.

the sight of you settled off to the side makes the boy stop reading, and you caught a glimpse of how he was staring at you from your periphery, but wasn’t brave enough to meet his gaze. instead, you distract yourself by writing reassuring mantras in your notebook.

it’s going to be fine.

today is the first day of class for everyone.

surely no one is going to notice how you’re the newbie.

as the minutes ticked by, you became increasingly aware of the students that walked in, laughing while talking about their breaks. just as the bell rings, signifying the start of the day, your homeroom teacher just had to notice you as he forced you to introduce yourself to the whole class.

throughout it all, you were a stuttering mess, forcing out the syllables that made up your name all while feeling like your knees would give away at any minute now. the heat was felt burning against your cheeks, traveling down the length of your neck by the end of it all. when the teacher lets out a grunt of approval, you sat back down as quickly as you could.

a rich chuckle was heard coming from your left, and you took a quick peek over to see the same, perfect boy who had been studying softly laughing at you. his attention was on his open textbook, but you could tell that he was still looking at you from his periphery, those grey eyes drawing you in-

you clear your throat and look away from him, feeling the warmth now spreading to the rest of your body. the hours kept ticking by until finally, it was lunchtime. you grab your lunchbox from the confines of your bag, but found that you didn’t have much of an appetite.

as you debated on what to do for lunch, a loud whistle makes you gasp, looking over to see a group of rowdy looking boys making their way towards you. you visibly stiffen, willing them to go away, but your prayers were all for naught when the entered the classroom, already sauntering their way closer to you.

“man, when i heard there was a new girl here, i didn’t expect her to be so cute.”

you cling to your lunchbox, ready to bolt when needed. your anxiety was shot through the roof now, watching as the boys came closer to you when they suddenly stopped dead in their tracks. it appeared that they had a difficult time moving, like there was an invisible wall that kept them from coming closer to you. noticing their strange behavior, you visibly relax, watching their stiff movements as they walked out of the classroom and fell into a pile in the middle of the busy hallways.

laughter was heard erupting all across the hallways, and you breathed out a sigh of relief. the same soft chuckle was heard, and you look upwards to see your classmate standing before you. he had perfect, ebony locks of hair with grey eyes that shone with a startling clarity. “hey, are you alright?”

“oh, i’m fine! thank you for asking…”

the boy shakes his head. “there’s no need to be so stiff around me. just think of me as your new friend.”

your mind was spinning now, practically on cloud 9 at the thought of having this cute boy as your new best friend. you smile up at him, watching as he sheepishly brushes back his hair before reaching out a hand for you to take. “the name’s sung jinwoo, and would you like to have lunch together with me?”

you nod and stand from your seat with your lunchbox in hand. “of course!”

jinwoo gives you a kind smile, stepping out of the classroom with you. you see the same rowdy boys glaring daggers at jinwoo, yet he doesn’t relent, standing protectively in front of you. the boys end up scoffing before walking away. as jinwoo leads you in the opposite direction, you remain blissfully unaware of how shadows seemed to dart away from jinwoo while aiming toward the group of boys who dared to make you uncomfortable.

{ … }

the trio of girls had purposely intercepted your walk to school, pulling at your hair before tossing you aside, making you land against the hard pavement of the sidewalk. you had the air knocked out of your lungs when you suddenly felt the contents of your packed lunch land over your head.

tears were felt filling at your eyes, and you watch as a girl leans down closer to you, her blond curls framing at her face while icy blue eyes glare down at you, “who the hell do you think you are, getting so close to my jinwoo like that?”

her lackeys stand beside her, all sneering at you while exchanging looks of disdain towards you. ah, it seems as though your seemingly perfect life was coming to an end, with jinwoo’s own fanclub coming after you now. you had barely been basking in your school life and newfound freedom with jinwoo for a month when the drama suddenly started.

it started about a week ago, when you found safety pins on your seat and your notebooks ripped to shreds. you did your best to ignore it while hiding your troubles from jinwoo, yet it only seemed to strengthen the bully’s hatred for you.

and now, it had come to a boiling point, as the three girls continued to mock and sneer at you, teasing you, making fun of all your imperfections while stating how you were a mere “charity case” for jinwoo.

by the end of their torment, you were a sobbing mess, all alone as the girls quickly left you behind with their harsh laughters echoing in your ear. the stickiness felt from having your lunch dumped all over you made you feel worse than you ever felt, and you knew that you couldn’t go to school like this.

while you were wallowing in your misery, you remain completely unaware of the way your shadow lengthened, reveal jinwoo as he steps out of it. he says nothing, simply falling down to his knees before taking you in his arms. “i was worried about you not being in class today.”

hearing his voice makes you cry out to him, facing him as you hugged him closer to you. jinwoo didn’t mind how messy your uniform was, simply holding you closer to his chest. he lets out soft coos of your name, allowing you to let out all of your tears and frustrations. while keeping your head kept protectively against his chest, his eyes began to glow a startling purple hue, already commanding his soldiers to get rid of three, new targets.

{ … }

after your encounter with the bullies, the next day, you felt a strange sense of dread consuming you. you truly wanted nothing more than to skip-

or transfer-

yet jinwoo stops you from even considering moving away from him. and after much convincing from his end, (“don’t worry, i’ll be by your side the whole time if those girls come back!”) you relent and head to school with him.

upon entering your classroom, you felt a strange sense of relief filling you. you saw no signs of those nameless, petty girls, and you visibly relaxed. upon entering the classroom with jinwoo, he seemed to flash you a knowing grin, as if silently telling you i told you so.

needless to say, with those girls seemingly gone, (maybe even transferred to a different school?), you were able to resume the peaceful school days with jinwoo by your side.

and of course, he shared his lunch with you because he “always made extra” and knew of your healthy appetite.

of course he walked home with you every single day after your club activities, simply because “it was dangerous for girls to walk home at night” and he was your “best friend who wished to keep you safe.”

you saw no red flags-

becoming so blinded by his own brilliance that it made you blissfully unaware of the neverending darkness settled in the depths of his heart and soul.

{ … }

it was amazing how you couldn’t see just how obsessed sung jinwoo was with you.

ever since that first day, where you had entered his classroom and introduce yourself, becoming a mess of stutters in the process-

you had completely captured jinwoo’s heart.

throughout that first day, he kept sneaking glances at you, thinking of way to properly approach you before wrapping his tendrils of darkness around your heart, further trapping you within his web.

with beru and igris talking his ear off, knowing of their king’s desire to capture your heart as well, they were obnoxiously supportive, thinking of ways to help with winning you over. and just as he was ready to approach you-

those damn men had to ruin it all.

jinwoo could see the fear and discomfort in your eyes-

the way you stiffened in response and how you looked like you wanted nothing more than for the earth to swallow you whole.

but he stops them from coming any closer to you, using his abilities as the shadow monarch to freeze them, controlling their jerky movements until they were tossed out of the classroom.

later that night, after beru had dealt with them, jinwoo reappears and gazes down at their lifeless bodies.

arise.

he commands their shadows to awaken, tying their souls to him for all eternity as they now obeyed his every desire and whim. even when the teachers questioned their absences, jinwoo made sure to dispose of their corpses. he had thought about erasing everyone’s memories pertaining to them-

but he was achingly aware of how it would alter your memories as well, which made him hesitate when it came to executing it. for now, as long as you remained blissfully unaware, then he would allow yours (and everyone else’s memories) to remain intact.

after all, what did he have to worry about? to the whole world, he was the ideal student, making 100’s on all of his assignments while doing his best to win the heart of the girl he adores. no one has any reason to suspect him of any foul play.

and he was going to use this seemingly perfect image of him to his advantage.

once jinwoo saw you again, he pretends to bump into you, successfully gifting you his freshly made soldiers by having them morph into your shadow as you remained clueless to his abilities.

after all, seeing your smile and how much happier you were with them out of your life was like receiving a piece of heaven for jinwoo. he lived for your laughters and could feel his devotion for you growing by mere seconds.

that was his first act of love and devotion toward you.

and the second act?

i believe we know when that was, too.

red hot anger was felt coursing through jinwoo’s veins when he found you broken and tossed aside, with the contents of your lunch thrown over you. though it pained him a great deal to watch your suffering through the eyes of his shadows, he had to confirm the identity of your pursuers before taking action.

as you sought comfort within his embrace, jinwoo commanded at least a hundred of his soldiers to stalk those who dared to bully you, not even feeling an ounce of regret when not even their corpses were found due to how they had all been ripped to shreds.

jinwoo didn’t bother extracting shadows from his latest victims, knowing that you would be so much happier without any traces of them close to you.

so, as he lay in bed with you sleeping so soundly within his arms, he silently vows his loyalty to you alone. his heart already burning with an inferno of emotions when it came to you and how you made him feel so alive-

and he never wanted this feeling to end.

he would never tell you the truth of his darkness either, or the things he had done to keep you safe and happy, oh no-

for why would he when you could forever remain his precious girl, living in a perfect sandbox that he had made specifically for you, all while swearing to protect it with his life?

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[logan-lieutenant]

goodbye to a world

reading between the lines of the various goodbyes and dismissals to logan sargeant

Pt. 3: Oscar (press conference)

full series

not a goodbye (in the traditional sense of the word) but a fucking statement. obviously. because piastri.

the loscar dynamic is absolutely FASCINATING. out of all the friendships in the grid, this one plays a special role: it reminds the audience that there’s so much more than formula 1, there’s so much more to f1 drivers than this stage of their career. most of us (spectators) have a broad conception of the “typical” driver backstory; rich kid with rich parents, got in a go kart at age 4, karting and then single-seater and junior series was their whole life and they climbed up the ranks like rungs on a ladder. i think a lot of people who only watch f1 (myself included) tend to focus so much more on the Pinnacle of MotorsportTM that everything else just seems like prep. even though most if not all of the drivers grew up either 1) racing each other 2) watching each other on tv, we don’t really think of these relationships beyond and BEFORE f1.

until loscar. because what draws them together? they’re not teammates. they’re not rivals. williams is so far behind that they’re not even competitors. in many way, logan is entirely “out of oscar’s league”.

and yet they have this endearing, sweet, playful friendship that’s exactly what it seems like: people who have known each other since they were kids, grown up together, watched each other become the person they are today. there’s a casual, domestic intimacy neither of them have with their teammates, even if those relationships are also going well, because there’s this history element.

which is recalled no more vividly than when oscar and logan are compared. as they are too often.

total polar opposites. f1 stories practically the inverse of each other. one was a promising young talent who f1 teams had been keeping an eye on for years that, once thrown in the car at that “wait! isn’t he just a kid??” age, immediately proved his worth as a future superstar. Future World Champion, to quote the official moniker. “look at him go! look at OSCAR PIASTRI!” he’s a prodigy, he’s a social enigma, he’s a raw force of pure and driven talent.

then you have the other promising young talent who one f1 team had been keeping a loose eye on for years. who’s never done any free practices or tests. who’s barely even dipped his toe into the waters of f2. who’s shown a lot of raw potential but more noticeably, glittering fancy sponsors. who gets chucked into a car as a last-minute, scrapping underprepared and thrown-together plan B after the previous f2 graduate fails to keep his seat. and, while oscar soared off into the stratosphere, logan flops IMMEDIATELY.

go fucking figure. it’s almost like people like max verstappen and lewis hamilton are exceptions to the rule, not the rule itself, and an underprepared rushed overwhelmed rookie is actually NOT in a position to achieve immediate stardom! in fact, maybe that’s the OPPOSITE of what they need! so, in loscar, we have the exception to the rule (oscar) and the rule (logan). but that’s not the solidified narrative; the story, how history will remember the two of them, is that logan was nothing but a pale and washed-out shadow. always. open and shut case.

what does oscar have to say about it, though?

this was said to gp blog (great website); the full quotes from him are:

I sent him a text yesterday. He seemed okay. Obviously a little bit of a shock. Obviously it wasn't an easy time for him in F1. It was much more difficult for him than maybe I expected it to be going into F1. I think for me, his potential was much greater than what was on show in F1, for whatever reason it might be.

I know firsthand, being his teammate in the junior categories, racing him in basically everything, I know how quick he is. I don't think the change was completely unexpected...

Best of luck to him. Just a shame that, for whatever reason, he wasn't able to show everything that he's got. Because in the junior categories, he was genuinely one of the quickest guys I went up against. I think his potential is much greater than what some people have seen.

first of all, some BEAUTIFUL toeing-the-line from oscar here. he’s even more subtle than alex in that none of his words imply any sort of passive aggression or ill intent; the only emotion that’s really conveyed, in understated tones, is a mild perplexity about logan’s career and failure in general as opposed to its gut-wrenching end in question. the implications in his wording imply nothing more than a personal opinion, but the ambiguity itself is some massive shade. let’s take a closer look:

much more difficult for him than maybe i expected it to be- this is masterful. “yeah, that’s right. i’m the next-gen prodigal superstar talent with my future as a world champion pretty much written for me, and i’ve shown the skill to back it up, and not only did i know logan before the catastrophe of f1 but i regarded him with so much respect that i had actual expectations. his skill had become such an intertwined part of his character in my eyes that i just assumed things would go so much better. because i believed in him.”

his potential was much greater than what was on show in f1…- toeing the line again. balance. acknowledging both the reality and all the roads not taken. “i’m not making false claims. i’m not making excuses for him. i’m not blaming the car or the team or the lack of support or the disgrace or the mistreatment and i’m not challenging the results. i’m not talking about what happened, i’m talking about what could’ve happened. potential. i’m talking about everything that wasn’t on show– and by not on show i mean that his potential, his skill, his pace, him as a person was not seen or understood or respected or prioritized by anyone. i’m not saying ‘oh, one point in 36 starts is all anyone could do with x/y/z excuse’ i’m saying ‘you guys missed the point’.”

for whatever reason that might be/just a shame that, for whatever reason- fucking hell, this is harsh. this is practically an attack. “i’m not gonna make excuses, but i’m gonna leave this open. i’m not gonna call this bad luck or the way it goes sometimes or a bad break, i’m saying that Whatever Reason This Happened is not what should have happened. not a matter of chance or objective misfortune; this situation could have and should have worked out better and whatever obstacle got in the way of that was a matter of misjudgment.”

I know firsthand, being his teammate in the junior categories, racing him in basically everything, I know how quick he is- alex said something similar, about pace. “raw speed” he calls it. and it’s really interesting that his teammates, who learn firsthand about him as a racer, his driving style, his strengths, his weaknesses (whether they’ve been teammates for months or years) identify a specific trait/skill about logan rather than just making the empty claim that “he’s good” or “he’s better than this”. and this is very interesting coming from oscar in particular given his current teammate. lando isn’t the best starter or the best defender or the most coordinated overtaker, but even with all the areas he needs to work on he can still compensate for it by being really fucking fast. his pace is his defense; he gets clean air and boom, he’s fucking gone. obviously that’s an oversimplification but oscar directly competing against that and observing/absorbing that and bringing up the same category of skill in logan– even in flashback– can’t be overlooked. in addition: “yeah, i’ve raced against him in basically everything. you’ve watched him on tv in a backmarker team for a season or so? i’ve known him for YEARS. i know. i don’t care what you’re seeing, i’m the expert on this and i know.”

I think his potential is much greater than what some people have seen- shit, this is as close to passive aggression as he gets, but it’s still done so precisely and subtly that it’s almost an art form. i mean, leave it to oscar piastri to use the phrase “some people” and NOT make it sound like a straight up, poorly-veiled callout. try to use that in a sentence without seeming like you’re shit-talking someone, potentially in the room. this is part of the lovely passive-aggression classic: “….unlike SOME people” (sometimes while staring at them directly, depending on how passive you want the passive aggression to really be. so, he’s (in unofficial terms) calling out who– anyone who hasn’t seen logan’s potential. who have underestimated him. who have invalidated his situation and him as an athlete. this could be any category of haters– negative fans, petty journalists, the horrid type of reports who will ask questions like “what does it feel like to be the slowest driver in formula 1…”. and that would make perfect sense. almost perfect. if we thought oscar piastri paid any attention to the haters, his own or anyone else’s. if it was ever on his mind. so, people who haven’t seen his potential… what, like, team principals? the ambiguity in itself is simultaneously a direct implication and oscar piastri’s intelligence needs to be studied because it is sometimes terrifying.

oscar doesn’t make a statement on social media, doesn’t bring it up further, doesn’t make any sort of personal goodbye available to the media– of course he wouldn’t, not just because that’s incredibly private but also because he’s oscar and he’s basically kimi raikkonen (in this analogy lando is sunshine boy seb but that’s an idea for another post). oscar’s whole public image is that he doesn’t want to have a public image. he doesn’t give the media any more parts of himself than he’s contractually obligated to. what he does give is concise, serious, the strongest points in the fewest words. and because of the enigmatic, tantalizing nature of that approach paired with the fact that he’s a fucking brilliant driver, people listen to what he has to say.

so oscar has a lot more weight to throw around than alex. alex’s image is that he’s a cuddly sunshiney cat dad who is a living anomaly in that he’s a good driver and a total sweetheart at once. whether or not what he says comes from the heart (it does. he’s alex) the reaction can always be “awww look at alex he’s such a nice guy :)” and the focus is on the kindness of the gesture/praise/respect itself rather than what alex is actually saying. so if alex says logan had more potential, that’s alex being alex.

if oscar says logan had more potential, that’s a fucking statement. and if the media wasn’t coming for JV’s head at this point, oscar just gave them a diagram for how to build a guillotine.

beautiful.

[gen-0]

“I am grateful for your concern Usagi, but I will decide what I can and cannot change…I wish you a good journey, my friend”

A tmnt 2003 redraw!! I was struggling to come up with my own usagi miyamoto design so I used @cupcakeslushie ‘s Usagi design as inspo for the time being!!

[clerk427]

Tags rant

no general theme i just want to yell about stuff

will delete later i think

Upd. I am doing better but won't delete it because archiving purposes and I like to reread stuff like that as diary entries and think "haha what a feeble minded fool i was"

[spicyllewyn]

Kinktober 1. - Accidental stimulation.

Marc Spector x F!Reader.

Tags & warnings. Accidental stimulation + semi-public. (+18)

Word count. 1.4k

Summary. The only space in the car is on your best friend's lap.

Kinktober masterlist.

Dragging Marc out of his apartment was undoubtedly always an odyssey for anyone who tried it. Fortunately, you had a little something hidden in your pocket called 'the best friend privilege' that always resulted in him fulfilling your whims.

That, and the slight feeling of jealousy that invaded him when you spent time with friends who weren't him.

It was a good day for both of you, after all, no matter how big the group of people you went out with was, it was as if you were always in your little world, just him and you. Chatting alone, walking behind the others, and always taking a few minutes to take photos at your request.

In the end, the rest of your acquaintances had already gotten used to it, and as distant as you might seem, they still loved and included you two. So it was no surprise to either of you that after lunch, the arcade, and the movies, they were relentlessly urged to take you back to one of your apartments.

"There's no way we'll all fit in your car." Six people in a car meant for five. You leaned a little after saying it, your eyes calculating the space in the back seat.

"Sit on Marc." The owner of the car shrugged as he jingled the keys in his hand, waiting for a response. It was a lost battle; both he, Marc, you, and the other ones knew that there was no way out other than simply accepting the offer.

"I'm not sure how safe that is." You hummed, pursing your lips before turning to Marc. "What do you think?"

He shrugged too.

"It's a short ride from here to my apartment."

You sighed; if he was convinced, it meant you were being the difficult one.

In a matter of minutes, everyone was squeezed into the car, you on top of Marc, the others having to shrink their bodies to avoid invading each other's space.

"Sit properly," he murmured, irritated by the way you were sitting almost on his knees to avoid bothering him. Because yes, both of you were basically inseparable, but Marc was a bit of a cat when it came to his relationships – sometimes he wanted physical contact, sometimes he wanted to push you into another room so that he could have some space.

He slid an arm around your waist and pulled your body until your back was leaning against his chest. Of course he didn't think through his actions and the consequences they could bring, or at least that's what he realized when the car passed its first stop and he felt you jump on his lap.

He gasped, low enough that you wouldn't hear it.

“Did you have a good time today?” You whispered as your fingers softly caressed his forearm until you reached the only bracelet Marc wore on his wrist. A gift from you.

He only could hope that you wouldn't see how the hairs on his arm stood up at how delicate your fingers were, causing chills to run down his entire spine.

“Mhm.” It was hard to concentrate with your ass pressed against him like that.

The music in the car wasn't loud enough to be annoying, but it was loud enough to cover your conversation as well as any curses that left Marc's lips. Next to him, one of his friends was dozing, the other was scrolling on her phone lazily.

Marc pretended to settle into place and mentally prayed that you wouldn't feel something between his legs starting to wake up, right against the inside of your thighs.

Was it necessary for you to wear that sundress specifically today?

Another small bump in the road and it was enough for Marc's cock to completely harden while you looked out the window and continued making those imaginary drawings on his arm. Of course you felt it, but there wasn't much you could do about it, especially with the way he held you to his body with his arm.

“Fuck.” He muttered, breathless as you shifted in your spot, returning to sit on his hip after the movement of the road caused you to slide down a few inches.

You could feel his hardness pressing between your legs, at one point the clothes being the only thing stopping him from fucking you mercilessly until your legs wouldn't work. His arm tightened around you and you swore the air was escaping your lungs, not knowing exactly if it was because of the way he was crushing you against him or because you could already feel your underwear becoming damp, a heat that you recognized perfectly in your lower abdomen and between your legs.

He pushed your entire body down with his arm, seeking to satisfy himself with that same friction that the pressure of your body gave him, until, of course, that was no longer enough. He pushed his hips up, a discreet movement, somehow, but you could feel it perfectly.

The fact that you weren't facing him gave you the chance to bite your lower lip and silence any noise that Marc tried to snatch from your throat with his actions.

The second push was less discreet, more desperate. He buried himself between your legs as if he wanted to tear both of your clothes and dig into you once and for all.

“Are they ever going to fix these damn streets?” The boy mumbled from the driver's seat. Small cement bumps provoked the car to make an almost vibrating movement for just a few seconds.

Marc almost fainted.

You knew it was too much for him when his forehead rested against your shoulder, his curls tickling your cheek and making you smile with how agitated you both were. You raised the hand that was on his arm to stroke his hair, pushing a few strands away from his forehead.

That would be the perfect position for both of you, or at least that's what he thought. Plunging into you to the hilt, your walls milking him as he listened to you moan his name loudly, with you pulling his hair and moving your hips to your liking, maybe he'd even let you keep that beautiful dress on, just lifting it up and moving your panties just a little to the side.

But for now, he'd have to settle for this. For the playful way you pulled at his curls as if it would bother him.

On the contrary, he almost made his lip bleed by having to silence the groan that was stuck in his throat. At this point your juices were wetting his pants and that was what gave him the clue that maybe this wasn't bothering you much.

Or nothing at all, he himself could feel you putting pressure on his erection as you pushed your ass down. As well as the way you spread your legs almost imperceptibly to let him settle between your thighs.

“You are going to make me cum on my fucking pants.” He whispered right in your ear, and you swallowed hard.

His left hand, which was between the car door and your body, slid under your dress, where he squeezed your thigh, his nails digging into your skin. You looked to the opposite side to verify that neither of the two guys had their attention on you and without looking away you moved your hips slowly.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

By the fourth movement you felt Marc's arm tighten around your waist to keep you still, he scratched your thigh, you could feel it. He let the air out of his lungs in a sigh of relief.

You felt the warm liquid against your skin making his jeans wetter and stickier.

“Was it left or right on this corner?”

"Left." Marc stammered, his voice slightly breaking as his forehead remained on your shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest moved your entire body now that you were comfortably leaning against it.

You chuckled.

A few more seconds of silence and you trying to ignore the way Marc's body shook as the car went over a couple more bumps.

His poor cock was too sensitive and he was getting over stimulated.

"See?"

You and Marc looked back at him in the rearview mirror. You smiled, he didn't.

“It wasn't that much of a problem.” He unlocked the car from the driver's seat. “You have to learn to accept favors.”

“Well, tell that to Marc.” You cleared your throat as you opened the car door. “He had to carry me all the way, he must be exhausted.”

He pinched your thigh and you chuckled again.

tag list. @ninebluehearts If you want to be tag please comment it, i'm not adding the usual tag list since i don't know if you want to be tagged on nsfw stuff 👀

[prael]

Perks

Kinktember Day 10: Mirror

Twice Mina x male reader smut

words: 4,108 Kinktember Masterlist

Do you ever look in the mirror and see someone who isn't you?

It was a simple question—if a rather loaded one.

"No," said Mina. "No, I don't think so. Not in a bad way, but maybe in disbelief of who I've become. Sometimes I expect to see the same person I was almost ten years ago. A simpler me. Maybe a more nervous and afraid version of me. That sort of thing."

"My therapist told me that was imposter syndrome," you said. "It's common, but it's pretty fucked up, the way we act like we're lying to ourselves."

"Have you thought of seeing her again?" Mina asked.

"God, that'd be awkward, don't you think?" you responded.

Mina paused, holding a glass midway to her mouth as if thinking, 'Between you and her or you and me?' Then she seemed to decide and smiled to herself, "Right."

Mina never erred into the intrusive or tactless. It's why you never have the impression that she is nosing around your life, because she gives you all the leeway to share only what you wish to share. And maybe that's why the both of you have lasted this long; in this arrangement, you found this unique level of trust, and you dare say it makes you damn good together.

"Our friend over there at the end of the bar looks like he can't take his eyes off you," you told her without looking up from your drink, not to draw attention. Mina chanced a discreet glance from the corner of her eye.

She quirked an eyebrow at you, "So? Feel threatened?"

You laughed into your drink before taking a mouthful of it, and then you told her, "I was about to get up, but you know that as soon as I do, he's going to come over."

"Of course, he will," Mina grinned into her own glass, then tipped her chin back to get at the last of it. "You go ahead to the room, I'll let him down gently." She patted at the front of your suit coat, above your breast pocket. It was a playful gesture. She had barely touched you all night until then.

"Early morning tomorrow, Mina, don't waste too much time now."

Mina smiled her "oh-shut-the-fuck-up" smile, before tucking a strand of stray hair behind her ear and running her fingers through the thick long black strands. You smiled to yourself and signalled to the bartender.

It's been a long day, and tomorrow will be longer still. Hotel bars had become a sort of ritual for you and Mina, you share a drink the day before you close a deal, half in premature celebration and half as a good luck charm.

And the thing is, Mina is a flirt. Through and through. Charm and wit. It works on clients, and it's an asset. The only problem is, it worked on you. It wasn't difficult to recognise your attraction for what it was, and she obviously took notice of it too. And you, well...

You're a professional, so you would never, ever let yourself act on it. This is why you returned to your room, alone, and why ten minutes later you heard the door open to her (conveniently joined) room. You're professionals, if you're going to fuck, at least you try to hide it.

The adjoining door opens. Oops, did you leave that unlocked? How silly of you.

"Sorry about the wait. Didn't want to seem rude, you know." She leans against the doorframe.

"How long after I left?"

"Barely a minute, he did the whole 'You-look-familiar' bit, so I humoured him..." Mina cocks a smile of arrogance. "For a minute. Before, you know... Letting him down gently."

"Did he go quietly, then?"

"He tried to ask me if I was sure I wanted to be alone." She shakes her head slowly as she saunters forward. "I was sure. Sure about coming up here and riding you senseless. Didn't tell him that, of course, just up and left. Anyway, for tomorrow, I was thinking—"

"Let's rewind to that part about riding me senseless, shall we?"

A playful smile takes to the corners of her mouth. "Let's."

You climb up from the bed, your shirt hangs loosely from your body, no tie at the neck and untucked from your trousers. "So, would you say it's going to be more of a—"

"If you are going to finish that with some terrible sex metaphor, I will kick your ass so hard." She kicks off her heels at the door. That long black dress she wore earlier is long gone, replaced by the lightest of sheer black chemises and a pair of little lacy black underwear.

"Kick my ass," you tell her, placing a hand on each of her hips. "Sure."

"Be quiet." She whispers it before she kisses you, deeply and softly. The sort of kiss that makes you forget yourself. Your arms circle her waist, and her arms rest on your shoulders. You savour it, the smell of her perfume, the taste of her tongue, the feeling of her hands trailing across the skin at the nape of your neck.

But in due time, that kiss breaks apart. Her hand trails down the front of your dress shirt, button by button, she has undressed you so many times now that the motion seems so familiar, and practised, but she still takes her time in doing it, as though with every undone button her anticipation is built upon.

You place your hand against the curve of her hip, thumbing gently, with feather-light touches along the black fabric, her small waist and wide hips, firm and round and so shapely in just her lingerie—your hands could have found no better resting place.

As you slip out of your shirt, Mina slips the delicate straps off her shoulders and the skimpy piece falls away from her body like petals around her feet. Mina is bare for you, save for her panties. Her tits might not be as big as her ass but your mouth still waters at the sight of them.

"Look at me." You love it when Mina demands that, love how she smiles with smug confidence when you have nothing to do but oblige her. Mina turns herself around, and your hands slide down, down the generous arch of her back and cups around her round, firm ass.

"Oh, come now," you can't help but tease her, "How very complacent of you, to think my eyes would look at nothing else but you. You know that I am a man of refined culture." You knead at the ample flesh in each palm, so soft. "I am very clearly an admirer of the finer things in life."

"How very romantic," she laughs, sliding down her underwear with a shimmy of her hips before placing her palms flat against the wall. "Go on then. Enjoy the art, like the cultured man you are."

There is something intoxicating about watching her there, propped against the wall, naked for you, your cock uncomfortable in your trousers. You unbuckle the clasp of the belt, then, in the pause, you approach, letting a single finger trace up the arch of her spine, leaning closer to her neck to whisper, "Not right here. Look over there, the mirror."

A floor-to-ceiling mirror, to be specific. She smiles a devilish little smirk. "And what of it?"

"Mina," you tell her, pressing the front of your trousers against the curves of her body, against the supple flesh of her ass. "I want to see all of you when we fuck. Every beautiful detail."

Mina purred, content. "Spoken like a poet..."

You land a solid and deliberate smack against that big ass of hers, and she lets out a groan. "Don't let it go to your head."

Mina let out an effectual moan, knowing fully how it tempts you. You roughly press your body against hers as she does it. Hooking both your arms around her naked form, you pull her to where you want her, right over to the mirror.

"That's it, take me like you want to." She presses her hand flat against the mirror, pushing back those delicious curves against your body once more. You force down your slacks and underwear until the cool air envelops you, at least until you push against her body once more. You cup both your hands at her full ass, slipping your stiffness between the cheeks and rocking back and forth. Mina is biting her bottom lip as she looks back at you in the mirror, and you look at nothing else but her deep dark eyes, her face framed by that long, dark, glorious hair.

"Your ass. This. This beautiful, beautiful thing of yours, drives men wild, drives me wild," you breathe out as she rocks herself back into your groping hands and your hard cock grinds between her cheeks, slow and methodic. "Drives me a little bit insane."

She deepens her bend, lowering her shoulders level to her ass, and her face presses against the glass. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip again, peering over her shoulder, a shameless erotic, willing for you to take her in the most raw and depraved way. You can't deny the effect it has on you, and it has you raising your right arm, palm poised to land another satisfying spanking to her ass.

The crack rings out through the room, and she lets out a soft, sweet little, "Oh!"

You wrap a hand around her, over her stomach and down between her legs, reaching for her sweet, slick cunt, and find her soaked, wet with arousal. Wet for you.

"Fuck, you're so horny," you utter hoarsely. You drag your fingers through her juices as you drive your stiff cock over her tight asshole, so much teasing, maybe too much, perhaps too tortuous. You groan into the shell of her ear. "You get so wet for me. So wet. You need it so badly."

She moans, grinding back against you and circling her hips as if it could ease her pain. Half teasing, half goading, she says, "Maybe you should stop fucking playing around and do something about it."

She hisses when you drive your two slick fingers inside her without warning, pushing deeper in one smooth motion, as you mutter into the crook of her neck, "Impatient, aren't we, Mina?"

"Just fuck me."

In response, you slowly withdraw your fingers. She gasps against the mirror, the palm of her hand curling flat into a fist. Her words get you harder as she tries to wiggle her ass and spread herself, desperately trying to draw your dick to the slick pink centre of her sex for you. She doesn't care anymore what this does to your discipline, doesn't care at the prospect of you breaking, turning this into a savage, ravaging of her body; what matters only, at this very instant, is that she gets filled and fucked, fast and hard.

Finally, you give her that. Draw your cock out from between her cheeks, sliding the tip down between her legs, feeling the moisture that glistens on the swollen lips. You don't bother to strap up, or even ask, it's long since established that raw is how she likes it.

Slowly, you push forward. Mina sucks in a breath through her teeth. You know by the arch in the small of her back, the little trembles, that it is taking all her concentration and willpower not to throw her hips back, to force you to the hilt.

You bite the edge of her shoulder, and a shiver travels down Mina's entire body. You pull out, a little, before driving forward a little further.

"You feel..." you groan, your cock feeling like it was engulfed by satin. You sink a little further. "Fuck."

"Mhm, go on," her eyelashes flutter as you begin to take her, in this raw, animalistic way. "Tell me how it feels."

"Every time is like the first time," you continue, sliding in slow, then deeper, bit by bit, until you're all the way in and her big, round ass is pressing hard against your abdomen and her thick thighs against your legs. "You feel warm and slick and tight and wet, and oh, God..."

A sudden thrust forward as her greedy cunt squeezes the length of your shaft. A delicious whimper that sends blood to your head. A long, shaky groan slips from the both of your lips. You buck hard into her ass and watch as it ripples at the contact. "Ah! There, yes. Fuck," Mina moans.

There are two of her, perfect reflections, two Minas taking a rough pounding from behind. Each little expression on her face, each beautiful feature is visible in the reflection. And behind that her body ripples just like the one below you, and she whimpers, helpless as you penetrate her over and over.

"F-faster." She whines. "Harder. God, fuck, fuck me harder."

Mina has always liked it a little on the rough side, so you grab a handful of her hair, ball it in your fist, and pull. "Tell me, how does it feel?" You rear her head back so she has to look at herself in the reflection and tell it to herself. You pick up the pace, beginning to relentlessly pummel her from behind as you bury yourself into her tight heat as deep and hard as you can.

"So... Ah! So good." You yank her hair again, making her ass tense, making her gasp. She pants hard, short and fast as the force and strength of each thrust get stronger. "I love it when you... fuck me like this." Her chest begins to heave up and down. She raises her ass even higher for you. "When you—God, ah! Ah!—make me want to scream..."

You feel that incredible warmth building and swelling in your abdomen as her sex drips around your shaft, and it is so hard to slow yourself down when her ass slaps against you in perfect sync with your every motion, when Mina's knees shake, when her desperate moans urge you to never, ever stop. Still, you would like to do a little something before she orgasms all over your cock.

You roughly jerk out of Mina, pulling away abruptly with no warning.

"No, no! Don't stop!" She cries out immediately, her greedy body already missing yours. The flush at her neck spreading, blossoming down—her shoulders pink. "No!" She whimpers as she tries to throw her pussy back against you.

She cries out so pathetically that she doesn't protest when you roughly turn her around and lift her by her thighs, allowing her to wrap her legs around your hips and sink her to the hilt onto you. You sink her down and up and down again and again, bouncing her on and off of your aching cock in front of the mirror, gritting your teeth to keep yourself from finishing the moment her tightness wraps and flexes around you.

"I'm gonna cum so hard, I swear, I can feel it," she gasps in time with your rough pounding, arms holding onto your neck tightly, fingernails digging into your shoulders. "So close, don't you dare stop."

The harder and faster you go, the louder and harder she screams, eyes rolling back and mouth falling open. She digs her heels into your back, pushing down against you so there's nothing left for either of you but pleasure. You pound hard and heavy into her, chasing her orgasm, and when that perfect heat grips all around you and consumes you entirely, there is nothing in the entire world that compares to it—to this. The thought that very soon you will be cumming inside Myoui Mina.

It is that pure bliss, that power and sense of total control, of giving her such pleasure that you're left moaning along with her, revelling in this wonderful mess. Your bodies are sticky and tangled and you just start to let it go. Filling her pretty cunt as you have so many times before.

You grit your teeth and struggle through the overstimulation, taking satisfaction in how the trembling in her legs persists, her breathing ragged and body shaking. Doing your best to fuck your load into her—she's just so into that sort of thing—you don't think that there's anything, truly, that is better than this.

Not when Mina whimpers as she weakly presses her nails into the skin of your shoulders and when she knows not how to stop trembling. Your limits are worth pushing for a woman like her.

But even then, limits are ultimately undeniable. Her full weight in your arms, your knees weak, your legs tire beneath you and finally, as you plant a series of gentle kisses along her neck and shoulder, her mouth gasping, her nose against your cheek, you give in and fall to your knees. Mina's back leaves a mark of where it was once imprinted against the glass.

"So..." she laughs breathlessly into your ear as you sit with her on you. "Do you think management has any idea how often we fuck during these trips?"

"I imagine that if they found out it would be both of our jobs on the line." You hold a hand on her lower back, keeping her upright and then place your mouth on one of her breasts. Her nipple is firm, you suck on it and run your teeth over its delicate surface. Mina keens with her mouth falling open and her lashes fluttering, a small quiet "ah" escaping from the back of her throat.

"Guess we better stop," she jokes, breathing out in a chuckle and gently, pushing your forehead away from her chest.

You chuckle dryly into her neck, wrapping both arms fully around her naked body to pull her closer. "Something tells me you won't really be able to help yourself."

"Punishingly handsome, smart, a sense of humour—" She reaches down to where your half-soft cock is planted within her cunt. "—Great cock, excellent fuck" As though it were some sort of sales pitch. "No. No, I can't help myself."

"Is this about next week?" you ask.

"They never split us up, we're a team, so why would they send you with her instead?" Mina rocks her hips slowly on your lap. You groan into the crook of her neck.

"It's a one-off, Mina. In two weeks we'll be travelling together again." You wrap your arms around her soft, warm skin and run them down her back. "Another hotel, another set of adjoining rooms."

"Yeah," she sighs as she lazily continues her grinding. "Or, we could... See each other outside of work, you know. Like normal people do."

"We're far from normal, Mina." You let out a soft sigh as you start to harden inside her again. You pull at the small of her back, urging her on. "We're having our fun, right? It works. What reason is there to rock the boat?"

Her arms move up your chest and onto your shoulders. With that same teasing voice of hers, "There's always room for more fun. More sex." Mina pushes hard on your shoulders, and you fall back into the soft carpet. Mina is above you—over you—all-powerful beauty and you want nothing more than to grab her hips and drive up, and into her. Her hair falls over her shoulders and down her arms. Her pert little tits beg to be held. Her face, with flawless skin and those few prominent freckles, is decorated with a filthy smile.

"Two weeks, Mina, two weeks and we'll be back to doing this." You caress the silky soft curves of her sides. "Two more weeks, and then it's a real long trip. Just me and you."

She's visibly more excited, and she rides you harder now than just a gentle grinding and you hear the little wet sounds of your cock plunging into her cum-filled pussy over and over again. Her breasts bounce beautifully, and finally, you do cup one in a hand. A playful glimmer dances in her eyes, along with the lust haze. Mina's wet thighs slap against your hips, the sounds are vulgar in the best way.

"I'm going to fuck you every single morning and night for the whole trip," you tell her, and her grin widens. "Then you won't want for a thing."

Your words only seem to encourage her more, to fuck you harder and harder. She's riding your cock wildly but never has her eyes left yours. She fucks like she does everything else; with every fibre of her being, her passion is unbridled and intense. And oh, when she whimpers, it makes a hot current run straight to the end of your spine, it gets the heat in your head pulsating. That's just what Mina does to you.

"Two weeks without me. You're going to be so frustrated, Mina, so needy. You're gonna make me a promise."

"Mhm?" she gasps.

"You're going to wait for me," you say. "After tonight, for whole two weeks, no cumming."

"No," she says through clenched teeth. "Absolutely not."

"Yes, Mina, absolutely."

You clasp your hands on her hips, slowing down her speed. "Promise me."

She almost struggles to find her voice. "No way. I can't!" Her hips fight against your hold, she fights to drag her cunt over your cock and just feel the pleasure you're denying her. Mina grits her teeth, and the pain is evident on her face. "Okay! Just please fuck me now." She twists her body, trying to release from your hold.

"Promise."

"I promise. I promise. I promise!" Mina squeals, nearly shrieking as you soften your grip and thrust up into her quivering, wet heat. You let her fuck you again and she picks up right where she left off—frantic and wild. She leans in to kiss you deeply, and a little whimper spills from the corner of her lips. "Fuck. Cum inside me again."

The eagerness with which Mina rises and falls on your cock, her pussy taking in all of you, demands only one thing. Cum—the mess of you both—spilling over and running out, all over you and the floor and ruining the hotel's carpet.

"Yes," her voice cracks, high and soft, "Oh fuck. Fuck. God, I'm gonna cum."

It's good, your hands gripping her body firmly, matching her pace, and taking the chance to look behind her, at the mirror, where you can see your cock bury in and out of her again and again. Slipping up below her ass that ripples beautifully every time your hips meet.

Mina cums not even ten seconds later. With an eruption of screams louder than you've ever heard, shudders all over, and more fluid spilling between you both. She's struggling and you feel it. You slap her ass and follow with a groan of words halfway between an instruction and a plea. "Don't stop."

She doesn't stop. She sits up and throws herself back, reaching for something to balance on. A hand against the mirror, her legs spread and her body present to you, she fucks that pretty pussy down onto you so fast, she's struggling to maintain the rhythm but her nails are curling against the glass, her brows are pressed so tense together, her body shakes all over and a cry comes again from that lovely mouth.

She cums again like this as if it's a show for you and what a fucking show it is. Her legs tremble so hard they lose purchase and you begin lifting yourself up into her and the sight, the sound—her sounds—and her perfect body is making you buck and press harder into her. You've become so mindless, so desperate and hungry for her body. You can hardly keep yourself from spilling into her for a second time. But not yet, you think. Not yet and not there.

Mina's leg buckles. She fights for air. "Can't," she chokes out, breathless and shallow. Nothing left to give you. She slips from her perch, collapsing to the floor, leaning against the mirror. Her dark hair matted with sweat, her pale skin gleaming. Her expression is dreamy. "On me. Just finish on me."

On Mina, a work of art. Over her pretty face, or those luscious tits, or that soft tummy. Over that thick, firm and oh-so-perfect ass, or those equally tasty thighs. Maybe even just glaze over her messy cunt. Her eyes flicker as she looks up at you, and you have a decision to make.

"Anywhere. Cum wherever you want."

[ryukatters]

don’t go - k. bakugo

a/n: I’m so horny for this man I can’t even think straight. This was supposed to be short and fluffy but now it’s turned into this. I would say sorry but I’m not. (Yes I am alive)

pairing: katsuki bakugo x fem! reader

wc: 1.5k

content/warnings: smut, unprotected morning s*x, begging, overstimulation, bkg is obsessed with you, also completely not proofread

Your boyfriend Katsuki is clingy. Very clingy— in all senses of the word, and you’re convinced that if you open a dictionary right now his name would show up as the very definition of it. Bakugo would live under your skin if he could, or at the very least come up with a way to keep you in his pocket. 

As lovely as your boyfriend is, his innate urge to smother you in affection poses a problem in times like these— early mornings where you have to get up and get ready for work. 

“Katsuki, I need to go to work. Go back to your side of the bed.”

“Just quit,” he murmurs, “I’ll take care of ya.” 

“As appealing as that sounds, no. I need to get up and do my part as a functioning member of society.” Any attempt to leave your shared bed is shut down by Bakugo, his strength easily overpowering yours as he wraps his arms around you and lays on top of you. 

“But you’re my pillow,” he says with a bit of a sigh, pressing his into the crook of your neck, melting further into you. His hot breath tickles your skin, and it’s enough to have your heart pounding along with a familiar warmth in between your legs. Katsuki is observant to a fault, he knows you better than the back of his own hand, and knows just what to do to turn you into putty. 

His hands snake up under your (read: his) shirt, kneading your breasts. You let out a sharp gasp as he tweaks your nipples and sucks a love bite at the junction of your neck. He hums in appreciation as he slowly leaves a trail of wet kisses down your stomach, stopping just as he reaches your underwear. 

He traces your slit, eyes darkening as the fabric begins to dampen with your slick. “So wet for me already, baby.” It’s not a question, it’s a fact that he already knew. Katsuki wastes no time sliding the garment down your legs. He takes a moment to run his hands up and down both your thighs before prying your legs further apart, exposing yourself to him completely. He can feel his mouth water at the sight of you. 

Katsuki can’t help but moan the minute his lips attach themselves to your clit, sucking fervently. “Always taste so good, princess.” 

You take a moment to glance down, which proves to be a mistake. Katsuki’s practically making out with your pussy, and when his eyes meet yours, they’re nothing short of lovesick. His vermillion orbs draw you in, and they’re absolutely magnetizing. You have to close your eyes to stave off your orgasm for a little longer. 

Katsuki can’t help but grind against the edge of the bed to feel some sort of release. He’s so fucking hard. He thinks he’s growing delirious. Katsuki swears he can cum from the taste of your pussy and the sound of your angelic voice filling the room with a sweet symphony. When you let out a particularly breathy call of his name, he has to will himself not to finish in his boxers, which is already usually a difficult enough task on its own, but now it's almost impossible from how impossibly hard he is with morning wood.

You grind against his mouth, hands carding through his hair as your orgasm rapidly approaches. Katsuki is more than eager to be used as a means of getting there. Even as you cum, he continues to fuck your hole with his tongue and lapping up your pussy. It’s only when you begin to push him away does he feel the need to lean back, a loud pop reverberating as he does. 

“You gonna be a good girl and let me take care of ya?”

“Mmm, fuck. Yes, ‘ki.”

“Good girl,” he coos, his lips pressing against yours with fervor. You allow him to deepen the kiss, sucking on his tongue. He moans appreciatively, hips stuttering as he continues to grind against you. The head of his cock bumps against your clit over and over, smearing precum all over your pussy. His tip just barely presses against your fluttering hole, and you can feel your insides ache with anticipation and utter need.

He’s teasing you. You’re overstimulated yet somehow unsatisfied. Your pussy is craving to be stretched out, and Katsuki is making sure he’s doing everything but that. He likes getting you like this— needy, clingy, nearly delirious as you beg for him. He likes to think of it as reparations for how insane you make him feel on the daily. 

You’re not sure how much more you can take. 

“Katsuki, please,” you whine, lifting your hips to grind against his dick, hoping to get what you want, what you need. You look up at Katsuki and for a moment, you think you’ve got him— think that you’d be able to look at him with those doe eyes and get what you want easily, like always. He never could refuse you.

But he merely smirks, and uses one hand to press you back down into the mattress. 

“Tell me what you want, princess. You know I’ll make it good for you.” 

“Want you to fuck me, ‘ki.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you whine sweetly. 

“I’ll give you what you want baby,” he affirms, the timbres of his voice reaching the depths of your soul. He uses both hands to press both of your legs by your shoulders, cock lined at your entrance. I always do, don’t I?

You can’t stop the moan that tumbles out of your lips as he fills you up. Katsuki presses a kiss against your forehead, relishing in the way you tighten around his dick. 

The familiar coil that’s been forming in your tummy is threatening to unravel, if your stuttered moans and breaths are any indication. Katsuki seems to know this too, as he pulls out right before you hit your climax. You whine at the sudden lack of overwhelming pressure, and Katsuki’s quick to silence you with a hard stare. 

His breath ghosts against your lips, vermillion eyes burning into yours with intense, unspoken passion. “What’s wrong, princess?”

You shake your head in the negative. “Wanna cum, Katsuki. Please.” 

He starts thrusting again, slowly and with purpose. His eyes never leave yours. It doesn’t take long for you to be on the brink of an orgasm again. “You want to cum, right baby?” He smiles when he sees you nod. “You can cum,” he says carefully, “but only if you do one thing for me.” 

“I’ll do anything Kats,” you manage to choke out. Katsuki continues to pound into you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. You really would do anything, Katsuki’s own desire and utter want for you is so persuasive that you feel compelled to follow. 

“Don’t leave,” he whispers, lips pressing a chaste kiss against yours. “Stay with me, today.” There’s an urgency behind his words despite them being said so softly. 

Fuck it. 

You barely manage to let out a stuttered “yes, ‘ki,” before you reach your peak. The pleasure rolls over you in waves, tears threatening to spill as Katsuki continues to drill into you, chasing his own high. A few particularly rough thrusts punctuated by staggered moans let you know that he’s cumming. 

Katsuki manages to plop right next to you, bed shifting under his weight. You lock eyes as you both try to catch your breaths. He gives you a quick smile before pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple, one arm wrapping around you to pull you against him.

“So…” he starts, his eyes brimming with satisfaction, lips upturned into a smirk. He knows he’s won. “Ready for round 2?”

[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄

Click here for Series Masterlist.

Summary: In the hopes that things would improve between you, you choose to lose your virginity to your friend Dean Winchester because you have been in love with him madly for a long time. However, he doesn't feel the same about you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: +18 (MINORS DNI) smut, virgin reader!, unrequited love, heavy angst, reader gets hurt, kinda friends with benefits, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, fingering, language

Word Count: 7216

A/N: English is not my first language.

Song: 'Waste' by Kxllswxtch.

Dean's eyes narrowed as he treated your wounded hand; you smiled a little to yourself as he talked about how you sometimes behaved recklessly. If only he knew how much you cherished the moments when he protected you during a hunt.

You had been with him and Sam for a year now, and it was difficult to resist falling in love with him. You weren't sure when you fell in love with him, but you sensed it from the moment he smiled at you, or maybe in a random moment. Every time you glanced into his green eyes, you felt a sense of admiration. You had absolutely no complaints. 

He complained as he was working to treat your wound, “You must know, I will consider kicking you out of the team if you keep acting like that.”

It began to rain in your house's weak light. Your heart was filled with fright as he took care of your wound in your house, where you were alone, and it seemed so calm; you were afraid of losing that precious, fragile time with Dean, not of ghosts. You weren't afraid of ghosts. 

You asked naively, as if you had no idea what he was talking about, “Like what?” When he grabbed your hand too tightly unintentionally, and that sudden moment hurt you a bit, you attempted to draw it in toward yourself with a pained gasp. 

With a look of regret on his face, you looked at him with understanding. 

“When I tell you to get behind me, you must do what I say, or when I tell you to stop, you must stop.”

“Remember the previous case in point,” you sighed. “If I did what you told me, we'd both be dead.” You looked up to see how he was feeling. 

“It was only a single exception,” Dean immediately defended himself, rolling his eyes at you. 

“However, if I had listened to you, I would have been killed. You too,” you mutely remarked. You weren't attempting to put the blame on him. You were aware that he was guarding Sam and you constantly. You dropped your eyes to your eyes as he looked at you, feeling instantly overwhelmed and overpowered by his piercing stare. “I promise that when I go hunting, I'm not being careless. I truly listen to you, but you must have some degree of faith in me. Since I joined you and Sam months ago, I'm convinced he has more faith in me.”

You wanted Dean to think highly of you, someone whom he could always trust, just as you trusted him with your life. You wanted him to trust you, your strength, and your feelings. Even if you were quite successful, you felt that he still seemed to be unsure about you.

This time, instead of cracking one of his jokes to lighten the mood, he seemed to be deep in focus. When he appeared so confused and like he was in pain on the inside, you wondered what exactly he was thinking. Though you didn't think you could stop him from ruminating at that moment, you still wanted to help him if he was in pain, calm him down if he was feeling anxious, and comfort him if he was feeling uneasy. 

The sense of worthlessness was an emotion you wanted to stay away from. 

When he noticed that you weren't as happy as you had been minutes before, he stated in a dry voice, “I don't want you to get killed or hurt because of me. I do trust you, but you have to stop acting reckless and try to save me by endangering yourself.”

“I wasn't putting myself at risk. You're exaggerating,” you said as you continued to examine his hands while he continued to take care of your wounded hand. 

“You're very stubborn, aren't you?” In an attempt to soften the thick air, Dean smiled back weakly. 

You chuckled and tried to catch his gaze by raising your head as you drew nearer and moved on to where you were sitting. “But Sam thinks I'm the easiest one to get along with and easiest to persuade,” you said. 

Dean winked at you suspiciously and said, “Hey, I guess you were right about something.”

“About what?” 

“He's dumb when it comes to reading people, huh?” 

You muttered, “Asshole,” and gave him a little leg kick. It made him laugh, which made you joyful. 

Dean let go of your hand, gave you a long, odd smile, and checked his watch after making sure you were okay and being well taken care of. You could feel the joy leave your body when you realized he wasn't going to stay or anything. You had no idea how to get him to stay with you, at least for a day, at your home. Still, he was always on the move. It's fortunate that he didn't hear how quickly your heart was beating, how much you wanted his touch, and everything else.

You said in a hushed tone, as if you didn't give a damn whether he said ‘yes,’ but you cared like crazy. “You can spend the night in here if you wish.”

“I think I have other plans for tonight,” he remarked, flashing you his adorable grin and a wink. “We move so much throughout the day. The town must have missed me.”

You chuckled slightly and said, "By whom exactly, Mr. Loverman?” You noticed that the rain was falling more quickly through the glass. 

Dean gave you a haughty look and stated, “By ladies, of course,” which made you jealous, but you didn't want to show it to him and ruin your friendship.

Playing with the fabric of your sweatpants, you said, “Boys. They come and go.” You attempted to ignore the vivid images of Dean with other women that were playing out in your head. It was unavoidable, but you didn't want to get jealous and mess up everything. “New ones appear all the time. Don't be worried about the women who missed you.” 

He smiled and replied, “You're a smartass, aren't you?” You felt encouraged to continue since he didn't appear to be offended or anything.

“And you're overconfident in yourself. Have you yet to be rejected by someone? Not even once?” You said it inquisitively. 

“Just once,” Dean remarked humorously. It eluded you whether he was being serious or joking. At times, it was difficult to understand him.

You tried to chuckle as you remarked, “Must be fun.”  You sounded like you were going to choke though.

Dean spoke for a little while before attempting to get up and leave your home, but the electricity unexpectedly cut off, leaving you gasping in surprise. You backed away from him with a shy grin, not because you were afraid, just because you realized you had touched his knee. 

You said, “Ah, it doesn't look like the rain is going to stop soon,” and to your relief, he sat back on the seat. As it was pouring heavily, you expressed your gratitude to God and Michael for their generosity and compassion, which you felt had come once in a lifetime.

At least once, you prayed that night's rain would never cease so Dean wouldn't go. 

"Yeah," he said in a dry voice. It was your hope that he wouldn't feel stuck with you and let down. Dean was aware that although you weren't terrified of ghosts, you were fearful of being alone yourself in the dark. “Do you want me to light a candle?”

You timidly replied, “I guess I don't have any.”

“All right.”

“Are you still planning to leave or spend the night?” You tried not to seem enthusiastic as you asked, but with anticipation. You hoped that his ability to read your face in the dark would be poor.

“I suppose it's best if I stay with you. You're a lovely young girl who, in the end, is more terrified of the dark than ghosts. As a gentleman,” he murmured, moving to a more comfortable position on the coach. “It's my responsibility to protect and repay you tonight, don't I?”

You laughed as though he had made a joke, but in reality, you were only finding it difficult to hide your happiness at his answer that he would stay. The angels seemed to fill your heart with such incredible bliss. If it would force him to spend his time with you in that manner, you may put yourself at ongoing risk. You wished he understood how much you valued each and every word he said.

“How about you, though?” Dean asked out of the blue. Although his face was concealing himself in the darkness, you could tell by the tone of his words that he was perplexed. 

You asked, perplexed, not understanding what he was talking about, “What about me?”

“I haven't seen you with...someone in a long time since you joined us,” he said. You may argue that he spoke slowly in order to carefully select his words so as not to offend you or cause you distress. “Actually, I've never seen you with someone nor heard you talking about anyone.” 

You attempted to give him a confident smile, but all you managed to do was give him off an odd look. “Uhm,” you stammered out while attempting to think of anything to say without looking foolish. “Those hunts are challenging and exhausting.” You attempted to explain to him, “I'm not interested in seeing someone right now, and I can't find time for myself.” You were hoping he wouldn't dig too much.

You weren’t the best when it came to lying. 

As if he wasn't okay with your explanation, he grumbled, “We've been staying here for a month, and we are not even that busy.”

You wouldn't tell Dean that you were an inexperienced one in your mid-20s, as you knew he was very skilled with women. You just could not possibly make yourself look so foolish in front of him. You were unsure what he would think about you. Definitely, it was best to remain silent.

You said, “I'm just not interested and feel like I have no time for anyone,” trying not to sound like lying. Although it wasn't a total lie, how in the world could you admit that you were truly interested in someone, him, and that's the reason you weren't interested in anybody else?

You wanted he could read the words on your lips and your voice so you wouldn't have been trying so hard to explain things to him while hiding yourself away from him for so long.

Love was something that both wanted to be hidden and to be revealed. It was complicated and bizarre.

Dean finally responded, “You're right, actually,” after giving you a long stare. “You should avoid things that might distract the focus of your attention. Men might easily split your soft and lovely heart in half.”

You asked, irritated, “Why do you say that?” You always believed that since you avoided people so well, nobody would ever consider hurting you or anything like that.

As he moved a little closer to you, Dean smirked and remarked, “Like you say,” which made you tense. You couldn't see him well, but his smile was joyful. Before continuing, he arched an eyebrow and nibbled his bottom lip. “I'm ladies' man. I read women really well, and you're easy to see through.”

You said to him, “You really are a ladies' man. But I'd say you are illiterate.” 

Dean gave you a small chuckle and made the decision not to push you too far or make you feel more shy. And anyhow, he wouldn't allow you to talk about males, not right now. You did not require guidance since you did well on your own. “Hey, I see that you’re a little sharp today. After taking care of your wounded hand, I made the decision to spend the night with you and look how you treat me. You're being ungrateful.”

He made a false furious look at you, and you couldn't stop laughing. “You do realize, though, that I have once again saved your ass. I'm beginning to feel like you must repay me for acting as your guard. Like an angel.” You gave him a little smile and added, “That means something, right?”

Dean said, “It does,” with the same lighthearted tone as you, his eyes examining your face up close in the dark as your smile slowly faded from the corners of your lips.

You gasped in surprise and fright when an unexpected lightning strike struck with such force it seemed like the sky had been split in half. Dean laughed, seeing as how you really jumped on the coach. 

“I can't believe you're not afraid of ghosts, witches and all, but just some raindrops,” he stated in astonishment. Your pulse beat like crazy when you felt his breath close to you, but Dean probably assumed it was because you were frightened.

Both of your arms and legs touched, but you tried not to react. “I'm not afraid of rainy weather or something,” you replied. “It's normal to be jumpy when an unexpected noise like lightning appears.”

In an attempt to annoy you, Dean said in a persuasive voice, “It was just simple lightning. Many things might come as unexpected. You can't always get scared.”

You said, “Like what things?” as if in plea. 

You stared at his wonderfully shaped lips in the darkness as he spoke in a whisper. Your lips felt so dry that you wanted to lick them. Although you hoped he didn't notice, at that point you weren't really worried. Yes, you were a virgin with no prior experience, and you were very determined to keep your body and mind closed off to others, but things seemed different when you met Dean. It wasn't that you were old-fashioned-minded; you just wanted to be with someone you cared for, someone you loved. 

You were aware that the desire to be near him was more than simply passion; you wanted to touch his face, jaw, hair, and every other part of him. Your soul yearned to be near him desperately. 

Dean failed to notice when another lightning strike made you jump. It wasn't the finest moment for him to think clearly. There was always something enjoyable to do. Given that you've known each other for a while and that it must have been a while since you allowed someone to touch you, it seemed appropriate to blow off steam with each other. It was, after all, a difficult and somewhat tiresome a few hours earlier. 

Just when you thought you were going to pass out, Dean suddenly captured your lips and began to give you an urgent, intense kiss. Yes, you were somewhat inexperienced, but at least you've had a kiss. Quite some time ago, indeed. You made an effort to calm down, returned his kisses with your best effort, let your racing thoughts disappear into the darkness, and gave yourself over to that single perfect moment. 

You sucked Dean's lower lip, and your fingers stroked his jaw as his skillful tongue dominated yours. He must have been encouraged by your response because he moaned a bit as he shoved you back on the coach and pushed you to lie under him. He kept giving you firm kisses throughout.

His muscular neck was stroked by your hands as you drew him in between your knees. You shuddered as he put his body between your legs. It was the realization that your body was missing something that you were unable to identify. Your entire body exuded passion and desire. It hurt to need Dean so much. You had no idea how you had been able to contain yourself for so long.

You were longing to touch him all over.

Dean moved his lips to your throat, allowing you to take a deep breath. You were unable to contain a giggle as he violently sucked on your neck and throat. You realized you were sensitive there.

“Don't keep those lovely noises from me. Are we not the only ones alone in here?” While he boldly touched your skin beneath your shirt, Dean whispered. Though you urged yourself to relax down a little, you felt like your heart would burst at any minute.

It was possible that he might back off if you revealed to him that you were a virgin. It was certain that he would. You attempted to pretend that you had experience too and that it had simply been a long time because he was just interested in hook-ups, and that's what you were going to go through. It hurt to admit it, but maybe things would change.

You never would have imagined that you would feel that way about Dean, and you refused to miss the opportunity to be with him by telling him you weren't deflowered just yet. All you had to do was appear bold and avoid raising suspicion with your awkwardness.

Your cheeks flushed red, but at least the room was completely dark, keeping your almost scared gaze and timid finger movements hidden from him.

Your hands gently slipped inside his t-shirt, touching every muscle in so as to savor it. Your breath quivered with anticipation as your palm brushed every part of him. You could never let someone else touch you in the same manner that Dean did. 

Dean's eyes were on you, and as he nibbled your lower lip, you urged him to remove his shirt. You could see he was smiling a little bit when he pulled it off. That you were prepared to go one step beyond thrilled him. 

You must have pushed your injured hand a little bit hard when you gasped in little pain after both of your hands reached his back and you enjoyed the feeling of his muscles beneath your palms. 

“Hey, be careful and take your time there. Remember that all you are is a wounded gazelle under my mercy. You’re a greedy one, aren’t you?” As he worked on your clothing, Dean said in amusement.

You moaned in surprise as one of his hands slipped into your shirt and gave you a strong grip on your nipple. “Maybe I am,” you murmured, almost laughing, but the noise you made turned into a moan. 

You made a little movement beneath him. It seemed as though your body needed something from you or him, but you were completely unaware of what was going on. All you knew was that you were desperate for Dean to do something. 

You gasped somewhat alarmed as your nipple hardened between his skilled fingertips. As he slid on top of you and played with your tits, you got excited more and more, assuming that he wanted this as much as you did. You thought for a moment that it was actually romantic considering it was all dark and raining like hell outside, like the whole heaven wanted you to be with him.

You nailed Dean's back with boldness, crushed your lips to his once more, kissing him with desire while trying your hardest not to show Dean how shy you were in fact. It relieved you to hear him groan a bit in your mouth. You moaned quietly into his lips as soon as his thumb started playing with your nipples once again. 

Dean moved quickly to help you remove your shirt by pulling back. You were shivering a little, but even though he was making your skin hot, you would have blamed the room's cool temperature if he had asked.

His lips made their way to your nipples, where he expertly sucked them with his tongue. Your back arched as his lips nibbled your breasts delicately, and you forgot about your envious thoughts about how many other women he had treated like this. This time, you were unable to stop your loud moan from filling the room. 

Dean gave both of your nipples little licks and a firm kiss after sucking your tits for many minutes, making them slippery with his spit, and making you cry out beneath his body. You didn't know how pleasurable it was to be with someone doing such things.You were aware that you were attempting to create friction by placing your leg on his hip. 

He whispered to your lips, “I bet you're fucking dripping there,” as his hands gently moved into your sweatpants. He was trying to see every expression on your face in the dark. His voice was rough as he asked, “Are you wet enough to take me?”

You managed to say something like “Hmm,” which is sufficient. “I think I am.” 

“We must be sure,” Dean remarked in a lighthearted manner. “Let's see.” 

Dean slid his fingers slowly inside your sweatpants. He was grinning a little over you when he heard your heartbeat. As you waited for what was going to happen, you gripped onto his shoulder.

His fingers touched your underwear, causing you to gasp in surprise as he gave you a soft touch. Every second, you felt like you were becoming wetter. You believed you might orgasm at any minute since your clit was so sensitive to him. You wanted more because of how ethereal and gentle his hands were. You needed to raise your hip to him and squeeze his bisceps in order to receive what your body craved. 

Satisfied, Dean moved your underwear aside as he watched you twitch under him in desperation. He rubbed your clit some more, then used two fingers to feel how wet you were. 

Dean kept pushing back on his groan. He said in surprise, “Fuck, I knew you'd be wet, but you are literally leaking there.” You had no idea whether or not it satisfied him. All you wanted to do was the right thing. Regardless of what it was. 

You lied when you said, “It's been very, very long,” since you had no idea what to say. The way he responded truly made you feel a little awkward. 

You felt better after sharing quick kisses on the lips with him. “Good,” was Dean's sharp reply. “How many times can I get you to come to me tonight? You deserve appropriate treatment in light of the effort you have been doing these last few months, you know. I must reward you.”

Encouraged, you had a blossoming sensation of bliss and anticipation in your chest. You wished that light would never return and that you and him would always be in the dark together in that very moment.

He touched you during hunts and other times to make jokes, but you didn't used to be physical like that. Watching him being intimate with other women except you was agonizing. But now you knew you could touch him whatever you pleased right now. Just like you imagined when you thought about him, you touched yourself. 

Dean palmed your moisture in his hand, causing you to both pant into each other's mouths. You felt a little uneasy as one of his fingers began to gently press into your entrance since you weren't sure if it would hurt that much or not. You just didn't tell him anything since you didn't want to spoil things. All you did was wait expectantly.

He said, “You're a tight one, aren't you?” as he kept his finger inside of you. You were glad Dean wasn't being swift with you. You withdrew your lips from biting and captured his, pushing him into doing what he needed or desired as well. 

Dean expected that you would be tight, but he didn't anticipate that level of tightness. He was taken aback by how tightly your walls clamped around his finger, and he couldn't help getting thrilled at the thought of feeling your cock around him. He was shivering with excitement coursing through his veins. 

You bit your lip hard in pain as he pressed his thick finger a little further. You didn't make any sound that might have stopped him. Dean would stop in an instant, you knew. 

He must have realized how uncomfortable you were, though, because he began to touch your clit more in an effort to prepare you to become accustomed to him and make you wet enough to take him. 

As he worked on your clit, he remarked, somewhat smirking, “It seems we need to get you ready for me; otherwise, it might be painful a bit for you.”

“I'm prepared. Really,” you said, lifting your hips in the course of action. “You can go on.”

Dean groaned a bit and pressed his finger inside again. He used extreme caution. You whimpered and attempted to make yourself quiet by stealing kisses from him to silence your whimpers. 

Dean withdrew his finger and then thrust it back, not allowing you to say something. His abrupt movement caused your lips to parted in pleasure and enthusiasm. Even though there was still some discomfort, it was soon overshadowed by pleasure and desire as he began to properly finger you. You grabbed onto his shoulders because your pussy hurt from yearning. You tried to put your groaning mouth into Dean's, but he wouldn't let you kiss him. 

You could not help but let a moan out in ecstasy as your back arched when he gently pushed another finger and began to fuck you with them. You made a valiant effort, but it was impossible to avoid coming so quickly and effortlessly.

Dean moaned, “Give it to me,” realizing that you were making it difficult to come. “Come to me now. You're almost there; I know that.”

As soon as your climax hit, Dean grabbed your lips and planted a passionate kiss on it as he touched your chin with one hand, allowing you to ride your pleasure in between moans. 

Your hips rose to get more pleasure as though you could, your back arched, and your walls clenched hard as you rode your climax. Dean's experienced tongue expertly dominated yours as he murmured into your lips. He withdrew to give you a bit of time, and while he did so, he studied your face in the darkness, as if he wanted to remember each and every shadow that passed across your skin in the flickering light. 

He was at a loss as to why he had never touched you before. For a while, at least, it felt pleasant enough to become sidetracked. 

Your cheeks became scarlet as your climax wore on, but you were itching to go one step more. For that, you were ready. For a long while, you had been ready to give Dean everything. 

If he asked, there was nothing you wouldn't give away. 

You planted a hesitant kiss on him to gauge his reaction before your shaky hands made contact with his legs and through his trousers. You could see more of his face as your eyes grew used to the gloom. Your hands became braver as you watched him smile, and boldness invaded your body and thoughts. The sexual experience shouldn't be difficult. Particularly with him.

Shortly after your hand briefly ran over his hardened cock through his trousers, your fingers somewhat slid into his boxer. You were taking your time to gauge his reaction. You were hoping he wouldn't say no, draw a line, or worse, end it up.

You yearned to offer him the same pleasure that he gave you.

In a weak but hopeful voice, you asked, “Can I touch you?”

With a charming chuckle, Dean added, “You can do whatever you like.” His voice carried expectation, which made you thrilled even more.

You reached out and stroked his erect cock, feeling that it was safe to go a step further and meet his gaze with yours. His sly smile vanished from his mouth as he stifled a moan and shifted on top of you, his hand still resting on your thighs and legs. 

He said, “It seems like you're cold,” as soon as you began to touch him. 

You retracted your icy hand in an ashamed attempt to mumble a “sorry,” but Dean reacted swiftly and put your hand back to his aching cock. 

He responded, “We'll get you warm,” and helped you put your hand around his cock to feel closer to him and to give you the confidence to continue. “Your hand feels so good around me.”

Driven by his words, you felt each vein on his cock and then circled your fingers around it to memorize him. You weren't familiar with his length or anything because you weren't an expert on male anatomy, but he was thick, so it was difficult to properly wrap your hands around him. You reasoned that it would be best to take some action to get him to come. 

You moved your hands and began to rub him, trying not to feel shy as you stared into his eyes. Your chest was rising with excitement, and your breathing was heavy. His gasping for air made you pleased and aroused; all you had to do was give him the same pleasure. 

Dean told you, “You're doing so good,” in between strokes. 

You inquired quietly, “Do you like it?”

“I really like it,” Dean said as he planted a kiss on your neck. He paused at your sweatpants and began to carefully lower them with his hands. 

Your hands were moving more quickly on him, and your heart was racing. He felt larger in your grip. He was nearly there. But Dean gently stopped you, pushing your hands aside and planting a kiss on your lips. You sensed that the big move was about to happen.

He saw you were becoming stiff as he assisted you in taking down your sweatpants and underwear, so he questioned you suspiciously, “Are you nervous?”

You lied once more while waiting for him to remove his clothing. “No, of course, not,” you said. When he removed his boxer, you could have practically felt the chills beneath you. You had everything you had on the floor. “It's just cold in here.”

“Trust me, you'll feel warm very soon,” said Dean confidently. His tone had hints of dedication. 

You shifted slightly beneath him to find a more comfortable position. Luckily, there was plenty of room in the coach. You put your hands on Dean's back, feeling his hardness on your stomach, and you waited for him to do something already. Though plainly aroused and moist, you were still a little anxious. You

didn't want to come seem as inexperienced, though. You wished for this to keep going. 

“I do trust you.” That was true at least. 

Dean believed you.

While you waited, he took his cock and gave himself two or three strokes. Witnessing him stroking himself got you even more aroused.

Dean positioned himself on your entrance, making you tense up a little, then brushed his hard cock on your clit after making sure you were both ready. But you were determined to see it through to the end. It was almost like a chance to win him over in a romantic way. Maybe.

He pressed the tip of his cock, and you laid your hands on his back and nailed him like crazy. He was able to slide inside you very easily because of how wet you were, yet it was still uncomfortable and painful.

You bit your lip to suppress your agonizing groans and not to make him stop, so as not to seem like a wounded animal or anything.

Dean groaned over you, “Fuck, you are really tight,” pausing just before pulling away. It was difficult for him to fit inside completely.

You whispered to him, embarrassed, “Sorry,” attempting to calm down and let him in.

“Just relax,” Dean said, taking another position. You nodded to him quickly. 

He again pushed his cock inside of you. This time, your pussy was around him tightly, drawing him within. He let out a sigh of delight at that. Your eyes welled up with tears as he withdrew and used a forceful motion to push himself forward. It was as though he was slicing you in two. Thankfully, he was unaware that a few tears had trickled down from your eyes onto the coach. However, you were unable to cease whimpering in pain. 

Dean sensed when you were ready and gave himself a single, full thrust. You nailed his belly and back and moaned in agony this time because of his harsh moment. 

You were no longer a virgin while you were lying beneath him. Even though the man you loved was unaware that you had given him something unique, you knew that no matter what happened, you would never regret it. 

“Are you okay?” Dean asked. He could not believe how tight you were. Your walls were drawing him in, constricting around him all the while. If he was less experienced, he would have come inside you as soon as he entered your pussy. 

“I am,” you urged him to continue, your voice quivering. “Just give me a moment, please.”

Dean gave you a kiss to help you relax. He saw that you were a bit anxious and that you needed to wet yourself a little more before you could handle him. He was sure sloppy kisses would be helpful.

Dean stepped back after a while and questioned, “Are you ready now?” You were clenching around him, and his patience was getting thin.

You nodded to him, and Dean retreated and pushed inside again without waiting another moment. The way he fucked you was rough and painful for you. You didn't complain though, even if it was hard to get used to his size and pace in such a short amount of time. He moved slowly at first, but as you got wetter beneath him, he accelerated his pace.

Dean moaned, “You're taking me so well,” while fucking you in a rough way. His delighted tone and praises made your heart sing. “I like how tight you are.”

You only said, "For you." His compliments caused the anguish to become joy, and this time you didn't suppress your moans. You had no idea that you would enjoy this so much. 

“Oh yeah?” he said, teasing as he whispered into your neck, picking up speed. “You sound so sweet. Do you like the way I fuck you? I should have fucked your lovely tight cunt sooner.”

Your face turned red the moment he spoke dirty words into your ear. They were about how much he liked fucking you everything else. The whole room was filled with sloppy and obscene sounds that made you blush with shyness. You were becoming even more excited at the sound of his heavy balls hitting your pussy. You began to tighten up around him. Although you were trying to hold back to extend the moment, you were getting close. 

“This won't take long,” he groaned, getting his fingers tense around your flesh. It was difficult for Dean to control himself. You were tightening around him, whimpering beneath him. “Come to me. Come now!”

When Dean moved around a little inside of you, he started to fuck you harder and find your sensitive spot. With a groan, “Take it. Come on,” he said, fucking you senseless. 

You reached your climax and clenched him with his name on your lips as your screams became louder and you were unable to contain yourself any longer. Dean proceeded to fuck you throughout your climax by lifting your hips and drawing his body to you in order to receive more pleasure. You believed you might come again right there since your pussy was throbbing so much. 

After Dean made sure you rode your orgasm, he let out a deep grumble, pulled out his cock in between your startled gasps, and began to stroke himself. You became excited by his stroking himself on top of you, even though you had just rode your climax. 

When Dean began to empty himself on your thigh and stomach, you jumped. You waited for him to empty himself as you saw him spill his hot white ropes all over your body. You glared in shock as you watched him riding his pleasure.

You were no longer a virgin there, under him. It had happened. You were aware that he was only a friend and that the situation was really a bit awkward. You waited for remorse to surface, thinking that nothing would change with him, but it didn't. You didn't feel any sign of regret. Giving something unique to a loved one, even if it held no significance for them, was never wrong. After all, love was generous, and it always needed to consume the untouched places of your body and spirit.

With a low grunt, Dean moved your bodies on the coach and, to your astonishment, embraced you. It was obvious that he was satisfied. Dean grabbed the blanket that was hanging from the coach's corner and laid it over your bodies. You trembled as the heat took the place of the cold. You simply drew nearer to him to enjoy the moment because you had no idea what to do. You pondered whether this would occur once again. 

Jokingly, you said, “What now?” Still, a lot of questions raced through your head.

Dean sighed and said, “It's pretty late and seems like the rain won't stop any soon, so let's sleep.” You remained silent regarding what had transpired. 

Saying, “Okay,” you leaned into his embrace and made an effort to keep as close to him as you could. The thrill you had just had began to gradually fade away, leaving you alone yourself with despair and sadness. 

Dean remarked, “By the way,” before he closed his eyes. “Let's not talk about this to Sam or someone else, alright?” Though gentle and soothing, his words were sharp and cut you through. 

You said, “Sure,” immediately away. “Of course not.” 

As though nothing had occurred and you weren't naked in each other's arms, you told each other good night. Although it was awkward, you made the choice. When you made the decision to go all the way with him, you knew that was what would happen. 

You got out of bed before Dean did, picked up your clothes from the floor, and headed to the bathroom for a long shower. Whatever is done is done. It was irreversible; you convinced yourself. Nothing was a regret for you. You were relieved that it only happened with Dean. It was the appropriate decision for you to keep the details from him. He wasn't made to feel oppressed by you or anything. This would ruin the friendship and also ruin you. 

Dean also woke up, and you two didn't chat much after that. You felt a little uncomfortable, but as soon as Dean returned to his lighthearted demeanor, you felt at ease and acted naturally. When you saw he didn't put distance between you, you felt relaxed. 

That's how three weeks went by. Everything was well. 

Following a disastrous hunt that left Sam with an arm injury, you enter their home and assist Sam in taking care of his arm. The hunt this time was challenging, and you were distracted. 

Sam was giving you and Dean one of his puppy looks. You felt terrible. 

With remorse, you murmured, “I'm sorry, Sam.” He injured his harm in order to protect you, yet he didn't blame you for anything. You have probably never met someone as kind as he was. 

He said, “It's okay,” and made an agonizing moan as you carefully cleansed his arm. 

Dean snapped, “It's not,” in a harsh voice. He was across the room, observing Sam and you. He had his fists crossed over his chest, obviously frustrated with the current state of things. After all, Sam was his brother. “There, you should have been careful. Sam could have hurt badly because of you.”

“I know,” you said, panicked. “You are right.”

“I don't think so,” Dean stated sharply, glancing at Sam's injured arm. “You've been distracted for a while. I attempted to ignore it and hide the mistakes you made, but today they could end up killing Sam.”

Your pulse raced, and you felt guilty as you proceeded to handle Sam's arm carefully. As he persisted in blaming you, you found it difficult to contain your emotions. 

“It won't happen again,” you stated in a tremulous tone while keeping your gaze on Sam's arm. 

“It's alright. Dean, please stop being so grumpy,” Sam eventually pleaded in an insistent voice.

“You shut up,” Dean said, gesturing to Sam as if he were a little child. In fact, you were aware that he remained a child in Dean's eyes.

As you began to wrap a white cloth around Sam's injured arm, he groaned and pressed his groan back. “You're being annoying right now,” he said.

“I'm going to be more annoying if you two keep acting like this, you know.”

You said, “I'm really sorry,” and you gave Dean and Sam sincere looks. “It really won't happen again.”

Dean nodded at you quickly and sighed. However, it was clear that he was frustrated with you. “He's all I have.”

“I know.”

You and Sam didn't say anything further about what had transpired. Thankfully, despite his curious and suspicious stare, he remained silent. To get better, you had to gather yourself. But it was challenging. You questioned whether being near Dean worked as a deterrent for him to stay away from you. 

A week went by, and Dean came home with a blonde woman by his side as you and Sam were spending the night in the house eating pies and watching a movie.

Jealousy took over you, but you smiled and greeted them instead of pulling a grouchy face and making a scene. Dean's hookups and lovers became routine to you. The things that had happened weeks ago weren't important, even if it was hard to admit. Not a word about it was spoken. 

Last several days, Dean had been annoyed, but when he kissed the blonde, he was a completely different person. Happier, more relaxed. Though your heart was pounding from pain and suffering, your gaze remained riveted on the TV. It was pathetic how much you wanted to be her. It was a hard swallow. 

When she, Dean, or Sam told you something, you smiled and engaged in conversation so as not to arouse suspicion. They eventually made their way to Dean's room, and this is when your eyes started to well up with tears. You were unable to stop it. You uttered a little sound as your heart gripped with so much agony and suffering. You had no idea why. It might all have been different, but it wasn't.

Sam saw your eyes become wetter in the light, and he gave you a dubious look, but none of you said anything. 

You longed to travel back in time as soon as you heard it began to rain outside. This time, you weren't fond of the rain or how it felt. 

Next Chapter

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A/N: I hope you like it. Let me know what you think, please.  ^^

[obx-4-life]

Teach me...

Bsf!rafe × inexperienced!reader

Warnings: Mastrubation (fem reader), use of doll, and princess, Rafe being a softie, fingering, virgin reader, inexperienced reader. 18+ MDNI

A/n: Sorry if this is no good, it was rushed and I didn't have time to proofread. Let me know what you think or if you'd want a part two. Loved writing a story for Rafe x reader. Tysm guys <3

Please don't copy my work

(Divider isn't mine, credits to whoever made it <3)

For a while now, every single time you saw your best friend, Rafe, you left with an achy feeling in your lower stomach. You wondered why? How? He's your friend, it's wrong, you can't want him.

Today was particularly difficult to peel your eyes away from his perfectly sculpted muscles as you sat on the beach together. Every touch set your body on fire, growing more and more desperate each time.

You managed to control yourself for those few hours, but when you got home, you could feel your core throbbing, begging for Rafe. You flop down onto your bed, drifting away in your thoughts, how hot your best friend looked when he unintentionally flexed his muscles, licked his bottom lip, smiled at you, gazed into your eyes. You felt like you were constantly being teased.

Without realising it, too busy daydreaming, your fingers had slipped below the hem of your panties, desperate for some sort of relief.

You tried rubbing your clit, using your fingers on your self, but it wasn't enough, you needed more and didn't know what to do about it. So you did what anyone else would do, ask their friend for help. It's just help, he's just my friend, I just trust him enough to show me how to have a good time, just that, nothing more... You try to convince yourself that you don't like Rafe, but how couldn't you, everything about him drew you in, made you want to be his, and his only.

So you text him.

You: "I know this is gonna sound so weird, but I need your help"

Rafe: "what with?"

You: "can't get myself off, and there's no one else I trust enough to talk to about this kinda stuff, and I really need some help right now, Rafe"

Rafe: "ok, ok, I'll be round in 5 minutes, yeah?"

You: "thanks Rafey"

Rafe has a key to your house, so he just walks in. He finds you sprawled out on your bed, your cheeks flushed pink, and a frustrated look on your face.

"Hey Rafe. Thanks for helping me with this"

"Mhm, no problem doll. How'd you want me?"

"Your fingers... please... I don't know how to do it to myself properly, I've never uhm well, you know"

"Finished or fucked?"

"Both" you admit shyly.

Rafe sits down next to you, reassuring you, he begins to whisper things into your ear to prepare you to take his fingers but you quietly mumble you "m'already really wet, Rafey".

He looks up to you, silently asking for you if you're ok with this, when you nod, he pulls down your panties before gently pushing your legs apart a bit further than they already were.

You'd heard Rafe fucking girls before, he was always rough and degrading, but here, now, he was sweet, caring, just like the boy you've been friends with all these years, you were the only person to see his soft side and you were eternally thankful for that.

"Y'ok with this, doll?"

You bite your bottom lip and nod. Rafe drags his long, thick, middle finger along your slit, collecting your juices and nudging his finger against your tight, pink, hole. He gently inserts his digit and you let out a whimper, not used to the feeling. His fingers are much bigger than yours and he's way more skilled at knowing the exact angles to position his fingers at.

"Mhm Rafey, you can move it."

He draws his finger back out before sinking it back into you, your gummy walls tightly clenching around his digit.

"Fuck, princess, you're so tight"

After a while, you get used to the feeling, mewls of pleasure slipping out of your mouth. Rafe notices this and adds a second finger and then proceeds to curl them, immediately finding the sensitive spot that makes you moan almost pornographically.

He repeatedly curls his fingers, hitting that spot each time until your walls flutter around him before you come undone. You orgasm coating his fingers in your juices.

Part 2...?

[maysileeewrites]

it looks better on you || Coriolanus Snow

18+ content; mdni!

summary: Coriolanus is obsessed with you wearing his clothes | based off of this concept post

my Coryo masterlist

Coriolanus Snow is positively obsessed with you wearing his clothes.

Whenever he sees you in one of his shirts or sweaters, it’s like he can’t think straight anymore, every single thought wiped from his head - except one: you’re absolutely mesmerizing, somehow even more beautiful and enchanting, wearing his clothes. 

You’re his - and you wearing his clothes is just one more way for him to mark you as his, to show everyone that you belong to him, and only him. 

No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to fuck you. No one else gets to fall asleep next to you, wake up next to you. No one else gets to feel the immense, overwhelming satisfaction that always overcomes him when you’re wearing his clothes. 

No one else - just him. 

As it should be, Coriolanus thinks, smirking as he watches you poring over your University books at your desk from his position on your bed. Initially, he came over to your apartment so that you could study for your test next week together. Though he hasn’t really gotten a lot of actual studying done.

You’re just too damn distracting. 

You always are, but especially now - wearing his shirt and playing with the hem of it while you’re trying to memorize the text you’re currently reading, your other hand absentmindedly running through your hair, your lips silently moving - it’s like he can’t think straight. 

His eyes are fixed on you, following your every move. 

The way you screw your eyes shut as you sigh frustratedly - probably trying to remember a particularly difficult aspect of your textbook article. The way your fingers keep playing with the hem of his shirt. 

Really, he thinks, watching you sigh in frustration and slamming your textbook shot, throwing it a dirty look, his clothes look so good on you - almost better than they do on him. 

„Something wrong, love?“, he asks you, getting up from your bed and walking over to your desk, where you’re still sitting in your desk chair, head in your hands. 

You shake your head, sighing again. „No, it’s just this stupid biochemistry test … I just can’t get the hang of this stuff, which means that I’ll fail that test next week, which will bring my overall grade down and-“

„Hey“, Coriolanus interrupts your nervous ramblings, stepping closer to you and taking your hands in his, gently pulling them away from your face. He squeezes your hands, before bringing up one hand and gently brushing his knuckles over your cheek. 

You sigh, closing your eyes and leaning into his comforting touch. 

„I know that this is all a bit overwhelming right now, but you won’t fail that test, you hear me? You won’t - I’ll make sure of that. Even if it means that we have to spend every minute this weekend studying.“ 

„But, Coryo-“, you try to say, but he shakes his head, his eyes finding yours. 

„You won’t fail, trust me“, he says, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your hairline. „We’ll continue studying for this, I promise, but right now, you need a break.“ His gentle, yet firm voice tells you that he won’t take an objection for an answer. 

You sigh, even though you know your boyfriend only has your best interests at heart. He can be so stubborn sometimes …

„A distraction …“, he continues, something in his voice changing that causes you to shiver involuntarily as he leans down, stepping between your legs, looking at you with a teasing smirk on his face. 

„What do you-“ 

Your words are swallowed by his hungry, wild kiss. 

You make a surprised noise, wrapping your arms around Coriolanus’s neck out of pure instinct as his hands settle on your waist, drawing you closer to him as he keeps kissing you, his tongue coaxing your mouth open. You can’t help but moan as you feel his tongue moving against yours. 

Then, suddenly, he’s picking you up from your chair and you wrap your legs around his waist out of instinct as he carries you over to your bed, not once breaking the kiss. Your back hits your soft mattress and Coriolanus swallows the surprised noise you make with his hungry, desperate kisses. 

He breaks the kiss then, looking down at you with a teasing smirk on his lips, before lowering his head to the crook of your neck, sucking at the soft, sensitive skin. His lips curl into a possessive smirk when he hears the mewling, panting noises you make. 

He knows that he’ll leave bruises on your skin - pretty, purple marks that will mark you as his, showing everyone who you belong to. 

„Coryo!“, you gasp, trying to make sense of the world, tangling your hands in his blonde curls and trying to ground yourself, as he continues to relentlessly suck at your soft skin, all the while grinding his hips into yours, creating a delicious, nerve-wrecking tension. 

His lips leave a trail on your skin, from the soft, sensitive skin of your neck, to your collarbone and then lower and lower, until the hem of his shirt you’re wearing gets in the way. 

Breathlessly, your hands leave his hair and you reach down, trying to free yourself from the bothersome garment, but then suddenly, Coryo’s hands are there as well, stoping your motions. 

„No, keep it on“, Coriolanus says, reaching out with his hands to tug the dark grey shirt you’re currently wearing - one of his that you’ve ‚borrowed‘ - back down. His voice is low, his eyes are dark, the expression in them sinful and challenging - a promise. (A threat.) 

„It looks better on you anyways.“ 

You swallow upon hearing the arrogant possessiveness in his voice and clench your thighs together. 

When he notices, Coriolanus just smirks at you. 

You whine, reaching for his hands. „Please, Coryo“, you beg, your eyes finding his. You can’t have him teasing you - not right now, not when he’s already got you this worked up. 

„Please what?“, he asks, still smirking. 

„Please, just - touch me; just do something, Coryo, please.“ 

When he still doesn’t react to your pleas, just keeps smirking at you, you reach out with one of your hands, brushing over the bulge in his pants, before growing bolder and cupping his already hardened length through the material of his trousers. 

Coriolanus closes his eyes then, a low moan escaping his lips. 

„Fuck.“ 

His voice is something between a groan and a whimper as you keep stroking him through the fabric. 

For a split second you toy with the thought of doing the same thing to him he did to you - teasing him, edging him on, only to cruelly withdraw your touch at the last second. But he looks so good right now, his head thrown back, his eyes screwed shut, his lips slightly open, soft whimpers escaping him, you can’t bring yourself to do so. 

You don’t need to - because the next thing you know, Coriolanus is impatiently swatting your hand away, getting rid of his trousers and briefs in mere seconds, before placing his hands on your waist, shifting you, until you’re straddling his lap, your legs on either side of him, your core brushing against his erection. 

You can’t help the loud moan that escapes you then - the friction feels so good and you just want to feel him inside you already. 

„Coryo-“, you start to say, but his hand is already there at your core, roughly yanking at the thin material of your panties. You hear the material tear and you gasp loudly, when, without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you, curling them inside you, immediately finding your sweet spot. 

„Y-you really o-owe me a v-visit to the clothing store“, you pant, trying to form a cohesive sentence as Coriolanus continues to pump his fingers in and out of you at a merciless pace, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust of his fingers. 

Coriolanus just smirks, groaning when he feels your walls clenching around his fingers. „Fuck, not yet“, he pants, removing his hand and causing you to whimper at the sudden feeling of emptiness. „Need to feel you, need to be inside you.“ 

All you can manage is a nod, moaning when he positions you in his lap. You try once again to take of the shirt you’re still wearing, but Coriolanus swats your hands away once again. 

„Keep it on“, he says, his voice low and dangerous. 

All you can manage is a weak nod, because then his grip on your waist is tightening, shifting you forward even more until you’re sinking down on his hard length. 

„Fuck, Coryo.“ Your voice is nothing more than a breathless whimper as you continue to sink down on him, trying to adjust to the stretch. 

Coriolanus however, is too impatient to give you time to adjust, bucking up his hips to thrust up into you the moment you’re fully seated. 

You whimper, feeling his cock hit that spot inside you that has you seeing stars. 

Coriolanus groans, his grip on your waist tightening to guide your movements as he continues to thrust up into you. „Fuck, baby, you look so good riding my cock like that, wearing my shirt …“

You whimper, squeezing your walls around him. 

Coriolanus groans again, his expression clouded with pleasure. „Fuck, keep doing that and I’m not going to last long …“ 

You can’t help it - your walls squeeze around him again. 

A strangled moan escapes him then and you whimper when his thrusts get harder and faster and one of his hands finds its way to your core, brushing over the bundle of sensitive nerves. 

„Fuck- Coryo, please“, you whimper, as the pressure inside you keeps building and building and building. 

„Don’t worry, I’ve got you“, he says, as he continues to thrust into you at a relentless pace, his fingers teasing your clit. 

You do your best to meet his movements with your own, glad for his bruising grip on your hip, guiding your movements. 

„Just like that, you’re doing so good“, Coriolanus praises, sitting up to claim your lips in a hungry kiss. 

You whimper, overcome by all these different sensations - Coriolanus moving unrelentlessly inside you, his fingers on your clit, his lips on yours; turning you to mush in his arms. 

„Coryo!“, you breathlessly try to warn him when you feel your walls clenching around him again, you’re so close and you just want to feel your sweet release. 

„I’ve got you“, he repeats his earlier sentiment, his thrusts becoming even more erratic. „I’ve got you - fuck, you look so good, I could watch you riding me in my clothes forever, fuck-“

It’s his words that do you in, sending you over the edge. 

You come with a loud cry, his name on your lips, shaking in his grip, your walls squeezing him. 

„Fuck, fuck-“

It only takes two more thrusts and then Coriolanus is coming as well, spilling inside you. 

„Fuck, Coryo“, you whimper, still overly sensitive from your orgasm. 

„I’ve got you“, he repeats, pulling out of you, before closing his arms around you, shifting you around until your head lands on his chest and your back hits the soft mattress of the bed. 

You close your eyes as he settles a hand on your stomach, drawing you even closer for a moment. 

You stay like that for a long moment, both of you trying to catch your breath. 

Once you’ve calmed down enough, you notice how unbearably hot you feel - Coriolanus’s body heat is more than warm enough, but you’re still wearing his shirt that’s now drenched through with your sweat. 

You press a quick kiss to his cheek, ignoring the protesting noise Coriolanus makes as you move to sit up again. 

„My turn“, is all you say, as you finally take off his shirt and throw it to the floor, baring your chest to him. 

„What-“ Coriolanus’s remark is swallowed by the loud moan that escapes his lips when you settle back down in his lap, brushing against his erection. 

„My turn“, you repeat, grinning, „and I think it looks better on the floor.“ 

You swallow his reply with a hungry, desperate kiss. And judging by the way he’s squirming beneath you, trying to brush against your core, he probably doesn’t mind too much. 

someone please get me some holy water so I can cleanse my mind from these smutty thoughts

It’s finally here!! Sorry that it took me so long to get to it, but I’ve been in quite a writing slump these last few days.

Anyways, I’m wishing you all a Happy New Year <3 and thank you so much for all the love you’ve shown my writing lately! Here’s to more content in 2024!! :)

tagging:

@qoopeeya @honey-flustered @spectr3inl0ve @reader-bookling123 @itsnocturna @toogardenheart @theamuz @livius-codex @dominqueeekk @ebsmind @damagdcoda @snows-wife

[lylahammar]

People always talk about how Laios is a character who gives fat vibes even if he isn't technically fat in canon which is very true, and I have some thoughts on that!! (this will be a long post lol sorry)

There's a lot of material in the dunmeshi extras that show how fatness factors into dungeon exploration, which shows that only the most skilled adventurers are able to keep weight on while in the dungeon (thank you to @savaralyn2 for the translations! links to the individual posts these panels come from are added on the pics):

So we know, at the very least, that most of the characters are kept thinner than they would be naturally through the strain of death/revivification in the main dungeon. We also see that Laios has some fat on him, which through the text means that he's skilled enough to at least keep some of his weight (which makes sense, he doesn't die very often in canon).

(to be clear this ^ doesn't constitute as "fat," he is built as fuck here he just has some fat on his body which shows his prowess as a fighter in this universe) HOWEVER my personal little pet theory/headcanon is that Laios actually has a difficult relationship with food! I know that doesn't make much sense at first since he's shown to eat a lot in canon, but hear me out. In pre-canon, before he reunited with Falin, he's shown to be extremely gaunt:

But after partnering up with Falin, he gains weight and looks much more healthy very quickly. Part of this is definitely because of his unstable living situation/mental illness, but he and Falin still live in very poor conditions after this and he still manages to gain weight/get healthier, so I believe it's mainly due to her making sure he eats enough. We also know that Laios is. most certainly autistic. Nobody argue with me on that it's like pretty much widely accepted as canon for a lot of reasons lmao. So my theory is that he's actually food sensitive. He's shown to not really care about food that isn't monster-related. Even when he eats regular food, he's usually imagining it being a monster instead.

He has never eaten squid before, which is totally normal, but could also support my theory in a way :P it being a monster still can't save it from the autistic sensory bad experience in this case, though.

So I think that his adventurous eating during the course of the story isn't because he's actually an adventurous eater normally, it's purely because of his special interest (monsters, duh). During his journey to recover Falin, he's able to build up a healthier relationship with food through Senshi's guidance and the involvement of his special interest.

By the end of the story, after he's retired from dungeon exploration and living in comfort/safety, and with his newly healthy diet, he's finally able to gain a lot more weight. Imo, his is a story of someone who's naturally meant to be fat, but is only able to reach that point when in a stable and healthy environment.

(for the record I know he's not that fat in this post canon comic, but this is only a year and a bit after the end of the story so there's still time lol)

alright I'm goin back to drawing now just had to infodump for a minute ✌️ keep it sleazy

[moonstruckme]

hi i have a request that you're obviously under no obligation to answer but i saw that you did a royal au for sirius and i was wondering if you'd be open to doing another?

something like they're in a secret relationship and they're at the same ball and trying to act like they're the picture of good behavior but sirius is being subtly flirty and a menace?

Thanks for requesting sweetheart! Slight deviation, they're not together but this takes place just a bit after the first one <3

prince!Sirius x princess!reader ♡ 2.2k words

Seeing as balls are generally marketed as the pinnacle of refinement, you hadn’t expected this to be so loud. 

Every time the hum of conversation rises, someone keeps telling the musicians to play louder too, until people have to raise their voices and it starts over again. A victor-less battle. You have an inkling that it might all be easier to handle if you had just a bit more wine, but you’re on your best behavior for your new family.

You try not to wrinkle your brow, leaning closer to the man in front of you as the violins crescendo. “Sorry?” you ask, politely as you can. 

A flicker of irritation crosses his face. You try not to wince. He tells you the title of his job again. 

“Ah.” You nod, trying to look as though you understand the importance of this jumble of fancy-sounding words. “That’s so interesting. What does that entail?” 

He’s thrilled you’ve asked. As the man launches into a thorough description of his day-to-day duties for the kingdom, you contemplate how surprisingly relevant a competence in lip-reading might be to your new role as princess. Is this something you’re going to have to do all of the time? You haven’t been able to make out half of what this man has said since he made his way over to you. 

It’s pointless anyway. As soon as you notice Sirius Black standing behind him, you’re gone. 

It’s been hardly a week since your illicit meeting with the Black heir. You’d munched on chicken nuggets, traded complaints about palace life and your wildly different upbringings. When a guard had come to fetch him back to his parents you’d hid behind the door, and to the best of your knowledge you’ve both pretended the meeting never happened ever since. 

Now, he’s dark and gleaming under the light from the chandelier. He smiles dashingly at someone shaking his father’s hand, standing beside both of his parents and slightly in front of another boy you suppose must be his brother. You haven’t actually seen anyone in his family before now, but the connection isn’t difficult to draw; they’re eerily similar. Pitch black hair and pale skin stretched tight over delicate bones. Most horrifying of all, they’re wearing identical shades of black, the homogeneity of the men’s suits too precise to be incidental, except…

Sirius’ suit jacket shimmers with a silver sheen in certain lights. 

Your lips curve before you can stop them. You hardly know him, but already this seems typical; he has to be different. Has to set himself apart. It’s less tiresome than it ought to be. 

As though your thoughts have been broadcast across the room, Sirius’ head turns minutely in your direction. His eyes catch you and hold you.

It’s lucky the man standing in front of you doesn’t seem to notice how your gaze has wandered. He chatters on, unaware that your palms have slickened or that your heart has started pittering fiercely inside your chest. Sirius says something to his companions and peels off. He starts towards you. 

You look back to your conversation partner, managing a nod of faux comprehension just before he reaches you. 

You let your eyes flare as he stops beside the two of you, willing some surprise into your expression, but your voice comes out even more startled than you intend when you hiccup out, “Your highness.” 

“Your highness,” Sirius says back, the faintest of smirks curving his lips as he inclines his head to you, then the man in front of you. “Lord Chamberlain.” 

Shit. How does he know this guy’s name and you don’t? 

Lord Chamberlain looks nearly as caught offguard by the prince’s notice as you are. “Your highness.” He puffs up. “I didn’t realize we would be enjoying your presence this evening.” 

“Yes, my brother was supposed to be the only one accompanying my parents on this visit.” Sirius sounds even more polished than the last time you spoke with him. There’s an easy grace to his posture, an inherent knowledge of the tiny moves that allow one to conform to the etiquette of this culture which you’re still struggling to grasp yourself. But his eyes flash when they meet yours, a glimpse of that waggish boy you met in the sitting room. “However, during my last visit I found an interest in your lovely kingdom I’ve not had before.” 

Lord Chamberlain begins to prattle on about the perfect astuteness of the prince, the many, many attractive qualities of your kingdom, few of which would be quite so perfect if not augmented by himself…Sirius nods with practiced diplomacy, waiting only for the man to take a breath before he turns his attention fully to you. 

“I hoped you might join me for a dance,” he says, leaning closer so he doesn’t have to raise his voice over the music. “The next one is about to start.” 

“Oh I’m not supposed—” You cut yourself off, eyes darting to the courtier monitoring you from the edge of the room. You imagine you’re not supposed to say what you’re not supposed to do. “I’m really not much for dancing.” 

“Come on.” Sirius’ expression is teasing. “It’s rude to turn down an invitation from your guests. Isn’t it, Lord Chamberlain?” 

Lord Chamberlain looks as though if Sirius proves that he knows his name another time he might be in danger of swooning. 

“Yes,” he chokes out. His eyes when they meet yours are something akin to desperate. “Princess, it’s good form.” 

You catch yourself chewing the inside of your lip, stopping as you look back to Sirius. You don’t think he would tattle on you for violating whatever atavistic rule requires you to dance with him, but Lord Bootlicker might. 

“All right,” you say. Far less polite than society allows, you’re sure, but Sirius grins nonetheless. 

“Excellent.” He takes your hand, leading you away. “Always a pleasure, Lord Chamberlain.” 

The other man stands where you left him for a handful of moments, looking dazed, before beelining towards a server carrying refreshments. 

“I don’t know any of the dances,” you hiss at Sirius as he guides you onto the floor. “I’m supposed to be staying away from here.” 

“It’ll be fine,” he promises you, with the sort of confidence only a silver spoon can imbue. “If you just follow in the direction I lead you, your dress will cover up any missteps and I promise not to squeal if you step on my toes.” 

You try to give him a droll look, but you can already feel it happening. You’re succumbing to his charms again. 

There are only a few other partners around you, but here in the center of the room the noise seems even more overwhelming. Conversations overlap, laughter rings out, and music echoes off every wall in the large room. And just in front of you, still holding your hand, Sirius Black is watching you with his flagrant intensity. Even his eyes are too loud. 

He leans close to your ear, breath fanning over your cheek. “Scoping out your dancing competency wasn’t really my aim,” he says. “I only wanted to get you close enough to have a conversation without shouting.” 

You fear your thoughts must be bare in your expression. That afternoon in the sitting room was certainly memorable for you, but you were far from expecting Sirus to single you out afterwards. For all his talk about the novelty of you, he seems like the sort of person to have interesting interactions wherever he goes. 

“Put your hand on my shoulder.” 

You blink. “Huh?” 

Sirius grins, and you realize your slip. No matter how the courtiers you’ve been assigned have drilled into you excuse me, sorry, pardon?, Sirius undoes all your practiced manners with ease. 

“Your hand,” he says again, “goes on my shoulder.”

Just as you settle it tentatively atop of the faintly shiny material of his suit jacket, the music starts. Sirius places a sure hand on the small of your back and grins when you jolt. 

“Easy,” he murmurs, taking your other hand and tugging you gently to the side. Everyone else steps that way too, and you let him lead you through the first steps of the dance. “I won’t bite. Not in front of your grandmother, anyway.” 

You press your lips together to hold in a laugh, eyes finding your grandmother, the Queen, watching you from across the room. She’s smiling faintly, but the courtiers with her look less than pleased. 

You swallow, turning your attention back towards Sirius. “They’re upset with me,” you say. It’s a relief to speak at a normal volume. You know your proximity means he’s the only one who can hear you. “I told you I’m not supposed to be dancing.” 

“They’re not upset that you’re dancing, they’re upset you’re with me,” he replies easily. He guides you into a turn that curls you into him, his arm laying across your chest for just a moment before he turns you back out. “I have a bit of a repute.” 

This, of all the things you’ve learned about Sirius Black, is the least surprising. 

“So, you’re trying to ruin me, then?” you ask, half teasing. 

Sirius grins sharp as a knife. He leans close. “Sweetheart, I want to ruin you in all sorts of ways. That’s just not one of them.” 

Your momentary confidence drops right down to your stomach. If you thought you’d be able to play with Sirius and keep up, clearly you were wrong. 

“We’re going to do a spin,” he warns breezily, saving you from any response. He lets go of your waist, holding your joined hands aloft and using them to guide you away from him and into a twirl.

Only, you go for it too quickly. You’re back in his arms while the other partners are still going through their slow turns. Sirius’ laughter barks out of him loud and sharp before he catches himself. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble, resting your forehead on Sirius’ chest and shutting your eyes in mortification. 

“Hey, it’s alright.” Sirius is still shaking with quiet laughter. His hand is friendly on the small of your back. “That was stunning. All the other ladies wish their skirts had fanned out the way yours just did.” 

“Is skirt fanning really the object of the dance, though?” 

“It’s eye-catching,” he maintains. You can hear the smile in his voice. “You can make anything lovely. Now stop hiding before one of your keepers has a stroke.” 

You remove your face from his chest hastily. Your eyes flit to the courtier at the room’s edge before you return them to Sirius, cheeks burning. 

His look softens. “Don’t fret, gorgeous, you’re not the only one who’s committed a faux-pas just now. That laugh earned me a proper glare from my mother. As soon as the dance is over, they’ll throw us into the dungeons together.” 

“Well, at least it’ll be nice to have someone to talk to down there.” You bite down on a smile. Sirius, you’re beginning to notice, has a way of making all your worries about fitting into polite society feel silly. Nothing feels very serious when he’s around. Ironically enough. “Do we really have a dungeon?” 

Another startled chuckle goes through him. This one is quiet enough not to raise any eyebrows, more’s the pity. “Not one currently in use. It’s a relic, with a door going out to the street so tours can go through.” He smiles, borderline sheepish. “I went on one when I was twelve.” 

“You did?” You can’t stop the smile that leaps up on your face now. It shouldn’t be so easy to picture Sirius as a child, but it surprisingly is. A bit shorter and skinnier than he is now, skin and bones and night-black hair darting around and causing trouble. It’s an odd feeling to think that he explored your family’s palace long before you could, somehow both twinging and reassuring at once. “Is there a reason you’ve been here so often?” 

Sirius looks genuinely surprised at that. “No one’s told you?” At your bemused look, he blinks, seeming to compose himself. His hand flattens on your back. You hadn’t realized he’d been gripping you. “Our families have been friends for literal centuries. My great-great-great-aunt was close with your great-great-whatever, and we’ve never let our claws out of each other.” He gives you a conspiratorial look, leaning closer. “I can’t attest to the relationship between the current ruling generations being quite so amicable, but we cling to each other nonetheless. Trade relations and all that. All that is to say,” he backs up, gifting you with a smile, “we really will be seeing a lot of each other.” 

“Oh.” Your chest flutters with an unidentifiable feeling. You don’t know if you can handle seeing much more of Sirius Black. Every time you meet, it’s like he whittles away all your weeks of training and posture correction with a look. You’ll never make any progress if he’s constantly around to trip you up. “That’s nice.” 

“You’re doing remarkably well,” he notes. You look up, for a moment worrying that he’s read your mind (he seems prone to doing that), but Sirius goes on. “I don’t know what you were talking about earlier, you’re a natural at this. My toes remain unsquished.” He gives you a secret smile. You return it wobbily. “There’s another spin coming up,” he says with a teasing glint in his eyes, “think you can handle it?” 

Honestly? You think you’re already dizzy enough. 

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Streetlamps & Stories

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You have a nightmare; Simon is there to comfort you.

A/N: Ngl this is completely self-indulgent and written in about five minutes. Not long either. No warnings, just some good ol' fluff!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

His hands stay at your back, keeping you to his chest as you take deep breaths, shaking a bit. Simon’s shoulders are to the headboard of the bed, slumping against it with no care about how it would begin aching with the length of his endeavor. If that was all that had to come out of this, then he welcomed that ache; that burn of muscle. The man stares at the top of your head and finds your situation far more pressing. 

Throat humming, Simon speaks softly in that graveled tone of his—you feel it reverberate in your bones long after he stops speaking. 

“Breathe,” his fingers drag along your spine, moving in a delicate pattern as he listens to you pause and fill your lungs with a deep breath, feeling your pulse through your skin. Not once does he keep his hands off of you—giving you a place to ground yourself; a way to focus on him, his touch. To see you draw comfort from it was better than any gift he could ever receive. 

“Good girl,” Simon mutters, dark eyes half-closed as he makes sure you’re not going to delve into a panic. His thumb runs each knob of your bone.

It was still night out—deep night. A kind of night that had everyone inside, even the less-than-savory folks; a small pattering of rain to the window was only the beginning, mist shrouding the streets and the sidewalks. The streetlights, the only source of illumination, created shadows along the ruffled sheets, where minutes earlier feet had kicked in a panicked stupor. 

Above all, Simon was a light sleeper.

You could whisper his name at any moment when his eyes were closed, and they’d snap back with a sharp utterance of a question. Tap him briefly on the shoulder or grab his arm? The man was already moving to reach for you, eyes roving the room. Was it healthy? Perhaps not, but it was the state Simon would be in until his death. A kind of hypervigilance that only grew when you were beside him in the very place he slept. 

While your form just as easily put him to bed, your fingers running through his hair creating a spell of their own, it was far from difficult to say you were an enabler of his habit. 

Simon just didn’t want you anywhere near danger, and when he was vulnerable, even his inner conscious knew to look for you. But unlike his nightly terrors, something different had happened tonight. 

Your soft voice hadn’t woken him, telling him to stop holding you so tightly and to let you stumble off to the bathroom—neither had your heavenly touch. 

Your whimpers had.

It was the most scared that Simon could remember being, as his body flinched awake; already alert and reaching in the dark. He’d heard the tiny mutters; the shuddering breaths as if trying to breathe properly. At first, his mind had gone to the worst things—an intruder, an unseen threat coming to get payback. But no, after jerking up and placing a hand to your side, curling over you as he scanned the room with blinking eyes…there was nothing. Nothing in the darkness, nothing to be spied on or seen hiding in the corners waiting to strike. Just cricket chirps and the settling of the house. The small patter of rain.

The man had been confused, admittingly, until you started shaking under the covers, and your sounds of distress got louder. 

Simon’s eyes had locked on your face, watching, and he’d understood in a millisecond.

Nightmare.

Hand setting itself to your shoulder, he had shaken you awake until your started eyes could lock with his—blinking quickly and lungs heaving. They were wide and unfocused, darting back and forth. 

Without a word, the man had taken you into his arms, shifting, until he could drag your body to his chest and hold you there in the relative blackness of night. Back to the headboard.

He’d not stopped watching you, even now.

“Sorry,” you stuttered out, voice hoarse. Your nose sniffles a bit, fingers still quivering.

“Don’t be,” Simon mutters, his cheek moving to rest on the top of your head. Around you, his arms tighten, a grunt stuck in his chest. “Not your fault.”

You take more deep breaths, trying to push back that sting in the very base of your eyes. A hand comes up, fingers capturing the underside of your chin to tilt it upward. It was like he knew what would come after, even if the times you’d seen him cry after his own nightmares were able to be counted on your fingers. He’d always said he’d had the same ones over and over again, and while they still scared him, they weren’t worth his tears anymore.

But that didn’t apply to you.

Brown eyes stay locked with yours, slowly shifting around the build of your face as the minutes move on. He blinks slowly, those lashes of his caressing his scarred cheeks.

You only let the tears dribble out when his lips carefully press themselves into your forehead. 

A thin sob hitches your chest, a tiny fight with your conscious, but Simon’s lips don’t move, and his hand travels to grasp the back of your head, thumb running back and forth across your scalp. 

He hums in the back of his throat, saying into your skin, “It’s alright. I’m ‘ere.” 

Your arms snake out, wrapping his waist and curling into him like an animal, wanting nothing more than to feel his skin and how his scars live under your touch. To hear his constant heartbeat, and to soak in the warmth of his flesh from an interrupted sleep. 

Simon’s soft voice grumbles out after a moment of your muffled sob. The sound made his heart clench in on itself. He was supposed to be the one with the nightmares, not you. “You want to talk about it, Love?”

Immediately, your head shakes, pushing deeper into his neck, pushing out a quick refusal. 

“Just hold me,” you whisper, tears wetting Simon’s skin, dripping down his chest. He doesn’t even think about commenting on it. 

He nods firmly, as if given an important order of the direst need, his head moving up and his arms pulling you ever closer, sheets around his legs. Grunting, he shifts you, an arm going under your knees and the other curling your shoulders. Simon won’t say he isn’t concerned, because he is. You’d always do that to him, especially when you’re crying.

He hates it when you cry.

You having a nightmare was rare, especially one that resulted in waking up to tears. Yet, he’d hold you just as you held him through his, knowing it worked when you whispered things into his ears until that was all he could focus on. Your touch, your…goodness. He didn't have the correct words that he felt truly expressed how much he wanted you to calm down, so Simon tried another route.

Your route.

“I tell you about my time in Finland?”

Stories.

Your thin voice moves out, lips at his pulse, as the long streaks of the streetlamps outside make dancing shadows over your bodies. 

“Yes.” A pause and Simon’s eyes stare at nothing as he hears you speak—feels the tight hold of your arms. “But tell me again.”

So, he does. 

He doesn’t tell you, of course, but if you asked, he’d talk until his tongue went black.

[k1ng-ej]

Can you make a piece doing JJK boys being clingy with their girlfriends/partners (not sure which you write for!) and if you don’t want to do all the JJK boys maybe Choso or Inumaki? Thank you :))

Notes: Yes! I do not write for Yuta (and maybe a few others I'm forgetting), but I had a lot of fun writing this! This is my first time writing for a few of these characters so i apologize if they are out of character or not as good as the others ! also, i love the art you did of choso with his hair down a bit ago hehe ! (Requests are open)

Warnings: A lot of waist grabbing, slightly suggestive with Toji

Features: Gojo, Geto, Toji, Nanami, Choso, Yuji, Megumi, and Toge

JJK boys being clingy with you ₊˚⊹♡

Gojo

He's unafraid of displaying his clinginess, making it impossible to escape his touch in public or his incessant text messages. He always keeps a firm grip on your hand and has his arm securely around you. He reminded you of a puppy. He finds it difficult to communicate his emotions, particularly when he needs reassurance. However, as time goes by, you have become familiar with his gestures and discovered that his favorite way to seek comfort is by resting his head on your lap.

You find yourself now reclining on the couch, seeking solace after a heated argument. It was an unnecessary clash, and you wisely decided to distance yourself before uttering regrettable words. Suddenly, you hear the faint sound of Satoru's door creaking open, causing your gaze to fixate on the hallway, anticipating his emergence.

He had the appearance of a dog caught in the act, being confronted by their owner for their misbehavior.

Nervously, he made his way to the couch, anxiously settling into his seat. The fear of provoking a negative reaction from you lingered, making it difficult for him to relax.

While you were engrossed in your movie, you paid no attention to his gradual approach. This was a recurring pattern after your disputes. He would hover nearby, edging closer little by little. It was his unique method of expressing remorse and attempting to reconcile with you. Though it irritated you, it undeniably proved effective, for it was impossible to remain angry with him forever.

"Come here," you said with a dramatic sigh, invitingly patting your lap.

His face filled with joy, and without hesitation, he rested his head on your lap. Gently, you caressed his hair, soothing his scalp with a delicate massage. Occasionally, your hand rested on the side of his face, your thumb moving in a slow, comforting motion, tracing his cheek.

Geto

Suguru has a subtle way of showing his affection, preferring to express his clinginess in private. However, even in public, he can't help but steal glances at you or lightly brush his hand against yours as he passes by. Although he's not much of a texter, Suguru is fond of calling instead. So, when you're out and your phone unexpectedly rings, you can't help but be startled, but deep down, you already know it's him eagerly calling to inquire about your whereabouts and when you'll be returning.

A few minutes ago, he sent you a text instructing you to come to his room. You gently opened the door and stole a glance inside, catching sight of your partner in a state of complete relaxation, comfortably dressed in casual attire.

Timidly, you entered the room, gently closing the door behind you. With cautious steps, you approached his bed and slipped in beside him. He was dressed in a casual combination of a loose white shirt and black sweatpants. A cozy blanket covered him, and he promptly enveloped you in its warmth as soon as you lay down beside him.

His arm instinctively wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer to him. He planted tender kisses on your forehead and the top of your head, serenading you with sweet words. Your cheeks blushed, and you sought solace by burying your face in his embrace.

"Why are you so nervous? We've been together for months, yet you still seem so bashful around me, my love," he whispered gently, as his finger delicately brushed against your chin, tilting it upwards to meet his gaze.

"I'm not sure," you replied, offering a shy smile.

Your dopey smile was captivating to him. He adored seeing that smile, and it compelled him to draw nearer, pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss that made you feel as though you were melting away.

Toji

You've never encountered anyone as possessive as him. He shoots fierce glances at anyone who dares to cast a glance your way, and he constantly craves your affection, demanding kisses on a regular basis. Your neck is almost always adorned with his passionate marks, and no matter how many times you protest, he effortlessly silences you with a tender kiss.

"I'm home!" you exclaimed, shutting the door behind you. Initially, Toji was just renting a room in your house, but after you two became a couple, he became a permanent member of the household and no longer pays rent. As a result, you find yourself working more than ever before.

Toji loomed in the entrance, arms folded across his chest, his gaze drifting up and down your silhouette. The hunger in his eyes was a constant presence, causing you to squirm uneasily and your face to redden.

"Hey, have you eaten yet?" you asked softly as you brushed past him and made your way into the living room, which was adjacent to the kitchen.

"I did," he replied, firmly grasping your waist with his large hands.

You despised it when he behaved in such a way, yet you found yourself unable to break free from his hold. He forcefully drew you towards him until your back was tightly pressed against his figure. Without delay, he began to passionately kiss your neck. With each delicate touch of his lips against your flesh, an irresistible sensation of ticklishness arose, causing you to instinctively wriggle and yearn to distance yourself from him.

"Why are you always trying to distance yourself from me, baby?" he murmured softly into your ear.

"Toji, I've just arrived home after a long day of work, and the moment I step in the door, you're already all over me," you complained, gently removing his hands from you.

"I can't resist, you're absolutely stunning," he said with a smirk, trailing along as you settled on the couch.

Your moment of relaxation was abruptly interrupted as he forcefully pulled you onto his lap. You let out a groan of annoyance, reflexively wrapping your hands around his neck. However, he swiftly silenced you by passionately kissing you. At that moment, you realized that you couldn't complain any longer, as deep down, you relished in his neediness and his constant desire for your attention. Despite your fatigue, you couldn't help but feel elated that Toji truly wanted you and treated you with love and care.

His lips left a trail of passionate kisses down your neck, and your fingers became intertwined in the strands of his hair.

Choso

Choso is similar to a toddler that constantly follows you, tightly holding onto a piece of fabric from your clothes. He is tender and endearing, but also fears that his clinginess might bother you, causing him to frequently withdraw.

That only induces worry, and when you attempt to address the issue with him, his face turns as crimson as a ripe tomato, while he stumbles over his words and fabricates feeble excuses.

You found yourself in a quaint clothing store, browsing for new tops to replace the ones that suffered damage during your daring missions. Among the selection, you carefully lifted a vibrant, long-sleeved red shirt, unsure yet intrigued about whether it would suit your taste.

Choso was standing right behind you, his hand tightly clutching your shirt as he observed other shoppers. He was pleasantly surprised when you swiftly spun around to meet his gaze, a faint smile adorning your lips.

"What are your thoughts on this? Personally, I find it slightly too snug for my taste..." you lifted the top, examining it, before pressing it against your body.

"It's absolutely beautiful. You would look absolutely breathtaking wearing it," he boldly responded, shamelessly admiring you while he had the opportunity.

Blushing, you quickly tossed the top into your small basket and eagerly took hold of his hand, guiding him towards the checkout counter.

Nanami

At first, he didn't strike you as the clingy type. However, you were taken aback when he tiredly entered the house, removed his shoes, loosened his tie, and half-unbuttoned his shirt before collapsing on the couch next to you. His arm instinctively wrapped around your neck, drawing you close to him. Surprisingly, this became his routine every time he arrived home, and he would frequently message you during the day to ensure your well-being.

As he assured you he would be home soon, you decided to take charge of dinner preparations. Your utmost concern was to provide him with nourishing meals, especially after his demanding missions.

As you hear the door open and then close, your heart quickens in anticipation. Nanami enters the kitchen, his powerful arms wrapping around your waist, enveloping you in his embrace.

"Welcome home," you cheerfully greeted, spinning around and embracing him with your arms wrapped around his neck.

“Dinner smells good. How was your day?” he asked, his touch light but possessive as he held onto your waist.

"It was great! Tiring, but certainly nothing I couldn't handle. And how about you?" you said, flashing him a sweet smile.

"Same as always," he murmured, leaning down to gently kiss your nose. "Shall we eat?"

With a nod, you reach for two plates. Artfully arranging the food on each plate, you then make your way to the living room where Nanami awaits. Handing him his plate, you leisurely settle on the other end of the couch, playfully kicking your feet up and gently placing your legs across his lap.

You sat together in silence, savoring each other's company, a familiar ritual between you both.

Nanami was the first to finish his meal. He leaned forward, gently placing his empty plate on the small coffee table in front of the couch. Suddenly, you were surprised when you felt his large hands begin to massage your tired feet, a rare gesture from him. Without a word of complaint, you carried on enjoying your food. He was a true gentleman, always putting your happiness and well-being before his own.

After you had finished your meal and tidied up the kitchen, Nanami gently took your hand, guiding you towards the bedroom. There, he warmly embraced you as you two laid down, allowing your head to rest upon his chest, as you listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart. With his thumb, he tenderly traced circles upon your back, soothing you until both of you peacefully drifted into slumber.

Yuji

He is incredibly affectionate and caring, but he tends to be overly attached. His greatest concern is not being by your side if something were to happen to you. He consistently stays by your side, whether it is for a leisurely stroll, a shopping trip, or an important errand.

Sometimes he may be unable to accompany you, no matter how much he desires to. However, he reaches out to you, timidly requesting that you remain on the call until your return, providing him reassurance that everything is alright.

"Yuji, you do realize that I can simply text you, right?" you playfully chuckled over the phone as you disembarked from the train.

"I know, but if you don't reply to my texts, I'm left wondering what might have happened!" he complained from the other side.

You let out a contented sigh and shook your head playfully, all while sporting a contagious smile. To top it off, you were cozying up in one of his cherished hoodies. Your collection of his hoodies was a testament to their irresistibly soft and snug nature - an indulgence you simply couldn't resist.

"Do you know how incredibly adorable you are?" you asked, strolling along a bustling sidewalk towards your destination.

“I’m glad you think so. I love you y/n.” he said in a hushed tone, conscious of his surroundings and not wanting them to eavesdrop on this intimate moment.

"I love you too," you replied, giggling. You could imagine the slight blush he must have had, which made you giggle even more.

Megumi

Megumi may not be the touchy-feely type or a master of verbal expressions, but his constant stream of text messages makes up for it. Your phone is always abuzz with his messages, making sure you're always connected.

As you felt a vibration coming from your pocket, you instinctively retrieved your phone to see the latest message from Megumi.

M <3: 

Where are you? I miss you.

You:

Im just at the store megs. Ill be back soon :) 

M <;3:

Hurry up, the beds getting cold without you.

You couldn't help but let out a chuckle as you slid your phone back into your pocket. Afterward, you swiftly grabbed a handful of snacks from the shelf before making your way to the checkout counter. It's funny how Megumi reveals his need for attention only when you two are alone, and it seems like a significant portion of your time together is spent with him dozing off on your lap.

As soon as you finished paying for the snacks, you rushed back to his room. As you entered, his arms immediately wrapped around your neck, pulling you into a warm and affectionate embrace.

"Hey, Megumi. Hold on a sec, I need to take off my shoes." You chuckled, unable to reciprocate his embrace because of the bags you were holding.

Murmuring something softly, he backed away, allowing you the opportunity to remove your shoes. You carefully set the bags of snacks on his desk, and as soon as they were no longer in your grasp, he eagerly guided you towards his bed. With a playful roll of your eyes, you climbed into the bed, and settled in comfortably while he positioned himself on top of you.

With his head nestled on your chest, he closed his eyes tenderly. You sensed his entire body surrendering to relaxation, as his breath gently steadied, while your fingers lovingly became entwined in his soft hair.

Toge

You adore him with all your heart, but unfortunately, you cannot spare hours in his room, indulging in YouTube together. Due to his cursed speech, it makes it hard to communicate between the two of you, but the more time you spent with him, you began to understand when he spoke in rice ball ingredients. He demonstrates his attachment by sending you text messages at completely unpredictable times, requesting your presence in his dorm.

The very first time he did this, you truly relished the moments spent together, laughing at a few videos and snuggling on his bed.

You had just arrived back from a long mission when you received his message. Despite being tempted to decline, you couldn't resist. You found yourself drawn to his room, where darkness surrounded you, except for the soft radiance of a lamp and the flickering glow of the TV. He was seated on the bed, his relaxed shirt and comfortable pants giving him a casual appearance. His hair was disheveled, with a few strands sticking out, adding to his charm.

You greeted him in a tired manner, shuffling your feet as you approached and settled down on his bed. As you watched TV, he leaned his shoulder against yours, a comforting gesture that you had grown accustomed to. He always sought closeness with you, whether it was through your thighs touching, fingers gently brushing, or any other intimate connection. Your eyelids were heavy, and it was a challenge to concentrate on the video he turned on. Eventually, you kicked off your shoes and made yourself at ease in his comfortable bed. However, the moment your head touched the pillow, you succumbed to the peaceful depths of slumber.

It wasn't until after about 20 minutes that Toge realized you had fallen asleep. Swiftly, he turned off the television and tenderly covered you with a warm blanket, gently brushing away a few stray strands from your face. He planted a soft kiss on your cheek before snuggling up next to you, also succumbing to a peaceful nap.

[dollfacefantasy]

Cool Rider

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon gets you ready for a ride on his motorcycle

word count: 1.4k

a/n: just a little fluff drabble i've been thinking about while i go back and forth on my other longer fics. imagine this to be a little bit after vendetta when leon's starting to get better. hope everyone enjoys, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

“Quit joking around or you’re not going anywhere,” Leon grunts as he continues to mess around with the tire pressure on the rear wheel of his motorcycle.

“I’m just saying-” you chime before being cut off.

“You’re saying nothing more or I’m changing my mind,” he says and gives you a warning look.

Despite his attempt at being stern with you, affection clouds his eyes. You play along for him and mime zipping your lips. With a sharp exhale and shake of his head at your antics, he returns his focus to fidgeting with the pressure gauge hooked to his bike. But you’re happy just because you saw him smile.

You’d been begging him for months to take you for a ride on his bike. Every time you’d asked, you were met with “no” or “in your dreams.” You’d always ask him why, and he’d just brush it off. Too dangerous. It’s something he does alone. You eventually just gave up. He deserved his space, and you knew he’d seen so much pain and death in his life that he was probably a little overprotective by nature. It came as an absolute shock to you when he approached you last week and asked if you’d wanna go for a ride this weekend. He’d said it so casually, like he hadn’t shot you down time after time before. You weren’t sure what had changed, but a win is a win, right?

Now sitting on the stool by the bench where he kept all his motorcycle stuff, you swing your feet back and forth. As much as you’d been teasing him for the last thirty minutes about taking forever and a half, it was fun seeing him so locked in on his task. You studied his face, the way his brows furrowed and his eyes hardened, his lips curling a little with dedication.

“Hey stalker girl, instead of staring me down, maybe you should finish getting ready,” he teases as he finishes up and starts putting the tools away.

“I am ready,” you say.

“No you’re not. Where’s your helmet?” he asks while walking to you.

“Mmmm… you don’t wear a helmet,” you playfully point out.

You were just being difficult because he was so easy to mess with. You weren’t dumb, and you had no desire for your brains to splatter across some pavement. In general, motorcycles kind of scare you to be honest. If anyone but Leon was driving it, you wouldn’t even consider hopping on the back. So there was absolutely no way you were gonna get on that thing without a helmet strapped on.

“I didn’t ask you if I wear one. Where’s yours?” he says.

He stands between your thighs and looks down at you, taking in your pretty eyes, pouty lips, the face he couldn’t get enough of. His fingers run along your jaw, his thumb stroking over your chin. Every detail had him enraptured. He made fun of you for staring, but truth be told, he was just as guilty. The only difference was he hid it much better than you did.

“I’ll get it in two seconds. You were just taking so long, I figured I had some time to relax,” you joke with a quick peck to his lips, hopping off your seat.

“You better get it. I want your pretty little head kept in one piece,” he murmurs and lays a kiss on your hairline. He lightly swats your ass as you walk away, drawing that laugh from you that he loved to hear. He’s smiling while grabbing the keys, not that you could see it with your back to him. You were easy to mess with too.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that I have to wear one if you don’t,” you say as you lift the helmet up and inspect the one he’d bought for you.

“Too bad. I know what I’m doing. You don’t. God forbid I actually let you do this, and you end up with a concussion or something,” he grumbles while grabbing the keys.

“If we get in a crash though, your experience won’t matter. We’ll both go flying all the same. Then you’ll be the one with the concussion or worse, and I’ll be flat outta luck having to take care of you,” you explain while fidgeting with the straps on the helmet.

“Here, gimme that,” he says, taking it from you. He fixes the straps and gets them where they should be. Yeah, you’re being intentionally stubborn, but you had a good point and he knew it. “If it’s so important to you, I can wear one too.”

“It is important to me. I always want you safe,” you say, taking a moment to be genuine between all your teasing.

“I know, baby,” he says softly. It’s all he could say. Obviously, with the life he had, he couldn’t “be safe” all the time. But god, you made him want to try.

He gives you one last kiss before putting the helmet on you. He fastens it into place, making sure it’s nice and tight. Tilting your head around, he inspects it thoroughly. Has to be certain this shell of hard plastic is gonna do its job and protect his precious girl. 

After he’s done examining the efficacy of the helmet, he pulls back to give you a once over. Really look at you.

“Does it look good?” you ask, voice slightly muffled.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah, it looks good. Pretty cool,” he confirms.

Of course you looked more than good. The sight of you completely melted his heart. He just didn’t know how to say it. He’d never been too good with words when you were involved. You made everything foggy, hard to think.

He couldn’t see the grin on your face right now, but he could just about feel the excitement radiating off of you as you pulled him into a hug, the shiny dome covering your head resting over his heartbeat. His palm runs up and down your back before you pull away and head to the motorcycle.

“Are we ready to go?” you ask.

He could hear the anticipation in your voice too. It was infectious, made him want to get on and speed off without looking back. But he still had a little hesitation left. Rationally, he knew he’d done everything he could to make sure this would go smoothly. In all likelihood, you would just have some fun and then come back home and everything would be fine. The irrational part of him just wanted that to be 100% guaranteed. He’d lost so many people. He couldn’t survive losing you, especially to something as trivial as a motorcycle accident.

But he was stalling now, and he knew it. You deserved this. Deserved to have the fun he’d offered you. You’d been so good to him for the last several months, putting up with him when it would’ve been reasonable to leave him in your rearview mirror. He swallows his doubt and nods.

But as he sees you start to look at it like you’re gonna get on, he stops you.

“Wait a second,” he says, starting to shrug off his jacket, “It’s cold out, and with the wind and everything. Just put this on.”

He can’t see how you lovingly roll your eyes at this which is probably for the best anyways. Knowing him, he’d probably get all huffy and defensive about it. Argue the practicality of his decision rather than just admitting he’d gone soft for you.

Regardless, you let him wrap the leather around you, sliding your arms into the sleeves. You give him a thumbs up, and he pulls you close to him, thoughtlessly planting a smooch on the cool helmet like he’d normally do to your head.

“You better hold on tight. This isn’t a video game. You don’t get extra points for riding with no hands,” he teases before grabbing the extra helmet he had and putting it on.

This time you give a mock salute and watch him swing his leg over the seat. He waves you over and you gladly get on behind him. The warmth of your front presses against his back. He looks down, admiring the way your hands lock around his waist, your arms adorned in the white stripes of his jacket.

He wheels the bike out of the garage, taking a deep breath as checks to see that the street is clear. One more sigh and mental reassurance later, he’s speeding out onto the road. He knows it’s all worth it as soon as he hears your laughter and feels you clinging to him even harder.