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ohdeerfully · 10 months ago

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alastor request HAI can it be based on the fact that alastor doesn't sleep, and it's his lover finding out that petting his ears during cuddling makes him fall asleep.

thank you for your service

yess i love sleepy alastor thank u so much anon :D!!

Goodmorning, Love

Alastor x Reader (fluff) TW: none! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You were well aware of the Radio Demon’s sleep habits. Or, well, lack of sleep habits. You often spent nights in his room, where he would sit with you in bed until you fell asleep and go do whatever the hell he gets up to late at night. You always woke up in an empty room, and often so in the middle of the night, struggling to rest again as a greedy tightness gripped your chest in worry and disappointment.

You understood, though, and tried your best not to let it get to you that you didn’t have his warm body next to you when you woke every morning. But you couldn’t help that twinge of sadness. You weren’t particularly needy or clingy, but would it kill him to stay in bed with you for a single night? And to have a slice of domestic bliss as you woke up?

Obviously.

You roll your eyes as you lay, staring up at the ceiling. You had just gotten ready for bed, and now waited for said demon to join you for a few hours. Your fingers tapped, impatient, against your chest as you hummed absentmindedly.

“How lovely,” You heard him speak. Tickles of that radio static that always followed him clung to your exposed skin, which was signal enough that he had entered the room had he not announced himself. “What a siren you are, luring me here with that hum of yours.”

You smiled slightly at his comment, scooching over slightly to encourage him over. He obliged, joining you under the covers. He still wore his usual outfit, which made sense considering his tendency to go away all night. You purse your lips at the thought, slightly chewing on the skin.

“Why the face?” Of course he noticed your expression. He always noticed when any emotion tickled your face. You appreciated the genuine tone in his voice, the typical buzz of radio barely detectable in his words. He always got a little softer and kinder when he was alone with you like this.

You appreciated nights with him, being able to see a side of him that nobody else would live to spread word of. You enjoyed feeling a little special, especially to somebody like him.

“Do you think you could stay in,” You asked cautiously, fiddling with your hands as you inched closer to him, pressing your body against his. Even laying, he still seemed much taller than you. You gingerly guided his head down, against your chest as you spoke, hoping the multitasking would keep him from sitting up and rejecting your intimate gestures. “Just for a night. I miss you all night long.”

He allowed his head to lay against you. He did feel tense, of course, letting the back of his head be exposed in this manner as he lay vulnerable on you. It was a strange feeling, but not one he cared to consider for too long.

“(Y/N),” He began with a sigh. “It’s impossible for me to get much done during the day, what with all the running around Charlie does. Somebody has to keep an eye on that young princess. I prefer to stay awake to get my own errands done at night.”

I know that, you wanted to say and interrupt his explanatory ramble. You wanted to beg him to understand, just this once. You held in a sigh, watching as his head gently rose and fell with every breath you took. Maybe you should just take this submission from him as good enough.

You gingerly began tangling your fingers through his red hair, brushing out any kinks he may have gotten throughout the day. His tense body seemed to ease slightly, becoming more and more relaxed as you weaved your fingers through the locks.

“You have really soft hair, Al,” You commented, changing the subject. You figured there was no use convincing him. You let your fingers lightly trail upwards, up to his ears. You grazed them slightly with a finger. You touched again. When he made no motion of dislike, you fully began rubbing them. Petting him. You smiled to yourself at the idea of petting the feared Radio Demon. “And your ears are even softer.”

“I try to take care of myself,” He responded proudly. There was another hint of something in his voice, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. But it seemed heavy. “A well groomed man is a successful one.” You absentmindedly agreed as you stroked the velvety fur of his ears, switching back and forth between them and his hair. You had a preference for the ears, though.

You sighed and began humming quietly again. He rarely got so… comfortable, even around you. He always had some sort of guard up, always had his shoulders squared. He almost never became so… loose and vulnerable.

You noticed the clippings of radio frequency had stopped, which was a noise that was ever present in his wake. You had a suspicion why it disappeared, a small grin forming on your face.

Yes, the Radio Demon never slept. But that was a choice he made, not a curse that prevented him. Even demons get tired. You don’t know how Alastor makes it day by day without a wink of rest, but it was apparent that exhaustion had built up in him. He just needed to relax for a second.

You graced your fingers over his fringe, and craned your neck in a way to get a glance at his face. Yeah, you were right.

He laid there, eyes shut, features relaxed with the lightest grin playing on his face. Even in sleep, you complained. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was the sound of his deep, slow breathing and occasional twitch of his velvety ears. You briefly wondered what the Radio Demon would dream about.

Would he be aggravated with you when he woke up, realizing you had practically cast a sleep spell on him? You didn’t, but the rate of which exhaustion took over may as well have been some sort of magic.

You shut your own heavy eyes, exhaling lightly as you continued to comfort yourself with the texture of his fur and hair. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

You craned your arms and neck as consciousness came back to you, but an unfamiliar weight kept you from getting that good stretch in. Momentarily confused, you blinked open and looked down.

Red and black hair, more of a mess than usual, still took place on your torso. This was a first, and your chest felt like exploding with the glee of seeing Alastor still resting with you. He somehow looked even more relaxed than the night before, his cheek flush against your stomach, squishing his lips up slightly. A light grin was still there.

You gently brushed your fingers over his face, trailing a line around his features with an index finger. His eyes squeezed for a moment, and that static ambience of his slowly, quietly, returned. It was a noise that you had learned to find comfort in. He slowly opened his red eyes, a confused and sleepy daze clouding them. There was a wrinkle in his brow as he roughly propped himself up with an elbow, looking up at you with a furrowed expression.

“(Y/N)..?” He trailed, pausing to take in a shuddering morning yawn through a confused smirk. “Did I… Dear, what time is it?”

You looked at him tenderly. Oh, how cute he was, sleepy like this. Composed like an exhausted kid. Something even you have never seen before.

“Yeah,” You responded to his unspoken question. “It’s probably seven a.m. or so. I dunno.” There wasn’t a clock in your immediate line of sight.” “A.m. …” He said slowly. He sat up fully, looking down in disappointment at his wrinkled day wear. He quickly blinked the sleep from his eyes and managed to bring some composure to himself, but that lick of exhaustion was still prominent. Especially under his eyes.

“Yeah,” You said again, a light chuckle following. “Goodmorning, Al.”

He wasn’t obviously upset, it seemed. Though he probably was too tired to think about it too much yet. Maybe later.

“Well… Goodmorning, love.” He responded, still with a hint of confusion in his voice. “I suppose I accepted your plea from last night.” He brushed at his clothes while he spoke, trying to flatten out the creases that were brought on through a night of rest.

“Maybe more often?” You asked, twiddling your thumbs in anticipation. You already knew the answer, but it was okay. You knew how to keep him in now. You mischievously smirked as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Unlikely.”

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #ohdeerfully #alastor is eepy #fluff

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lampiridaes · 5 months ago

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♬ now playing: "falling for you"

-> don't you see me? i think i'm falling for you (fallingforyou - the 1975)

summary. various hsr men realizing they're in love with you

chars. dan heng , sunday , aventurine , jing yuan

notes. THIS ONE IS FOR U MIZU-ANON (still gonna call u that despite the username change) had sm fun writing this. i am a biiiiig loser for these types of tropes i need to admit it. I HOPE WHEN U READ THIS U ENJOY MIZU-ANON!!!!!! LOVE U <3

contains. fluff, pre-established relationship, spoiler-free, reader is a trailblazer but not the trailblazer, march & trailblazer mentioned (dan heng), 'pretty' used as a compliment for reader (jing yuan)

inspired by -> this post!

track one: dan heng

staying up late talking to you. dan heng tends to pull all-nighters, but he never expected you to join in one time. it was actually a bonding moment—he felt as if you grew closer since that day. it wasn't exactly a deep talk, it was more like an icebreaker. compared to march and the trailblazer, dan heng was much more reserved, so you saw a different side to him that night. one that you ended up seeing more and growing quite fond of.

always turning their head if your name is mentioned. every morning when the express crew gets up and eat breakfast together, dan heng finds himself always looking over whenever someone calls you. "[name], let's share!" march 7th would exclaim, then the black-haired man's attention immediately turned to your direction.

... and when you notice that a certain someone is staring at you, you make eye contact and smile, which seemed to have flustered him a little. ah, he's growing smitten, slowly.

track two: sunday

realizing certain traits about you that he finds endearing, your curiosity being the most prominent one. with sunday being a halovian, you couldn't help but admire his features, namely his wings. yet you were far too shy to ask if you could touch them—after all, what if he were to feel uncomfortable? but, to your surprise, sunday was the one that offered, finally acknowledging your silent wish. his wings were undeniably soft, but also quite sensitive, fluttering away from your touch. at first, you thought you did something wrong, but judging from the light blush on the oak family head's face, you could tell he actually enjoyed it.

realizing he's in a better mood when you're in a good mood. being head of the oak family, sunday has a tough job. and yet, when he sees you smiling to yourself, sometimes even attempting to help him in any way you can, sunday finds an odd warmth in his chest. one he doesn't experience quite often.

track three: aventurine

the first smile you share. sometimes you wonder whether or not aventurine is serious in certain situations. sometimes you wonder if he's even your friend or if he's using you in a gamble you aren't even aware of. but that one fateful day when he met your gaze and smiled, you could feel your heart skip a beat. aventurine constantly wears a confident smirk, one that makes him seem like someone to be weary of. and that smile of his... perhaps you were the lucky one this time.

flirting with you. actually, your friendship as a whole had some... weirdly romantic undertones, but after a while, the both of you sort of started to truly think about the entire thing. was he serious when he said that you were the only person he wanted? were you serious when you said you wouldn't mind it if he kissed you? only one way to find out, no?

track four: jing yuan

getting things that remind him of you. whether it'd be a shiny trinket he figured you'd like, or even an expensive piece of jewelry, jing yuan slowly started gifting you different things quite frequently. and whenever you'd ask, his response would always be, "it looks pretty, just like you."

finding time for you and spending his free time around you. it's no secret that jing yuan is a busy man, being the general of the luofu. and yet, after those hours are finished, or he managed to catch a break in the middle of the day, he always looks for you somewhere in exalting sanctum and ask if you'd like to take a short stroll with him. you answer yes every time.

#★ — you are my literature #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng #dan heng x reader #sunday #sunday hsr #sunday x reader #sunday hsr x reader #aventurine #aventurine x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader

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lovieku · 5 days ago

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HANDS ON ME ⋆ 정국

𐙚 if you like what you see, baby put your hands on me.

it’s about to look like jeongguk’s birthday everyday with you.

based on this ask

from the grande series ୨ৎ

pairing: nerd!jk x popular!fem reader

genre: smut

ratings: 18+ / mdni

warnings: lower case intended, jk is inexperienced and sooo whipped, it’s his birthday!!! and he’s getting it hhhh, lowk dom!oc x sub!jk, size kink, tit play, dry humping, brief coochie play, cum eating omfg, blow job, cutest babies ever

word count: 3.9k

a/n: first thing i saw this morning was that ask, so of course i had to write this. like THANK U ANON that was such a good idea yes yes yes. hope u enjoy 🩷🩷

🏷️ perm taglist: @ceellliiinee @jaytheatiny @dolligguk @luvismenu @theyloveyams @stillwjk-channie-lixie @bookstoread199 @girlygguk @vieviela @myngiii @angelxkoo @nnybtitts08 @mpbrinkss @https-mei @lyywst @mhdelu @apobangpogirlyyy @khadeeeeej @awrkive @nooooooooonnneeeeeee @vantelover1306

────୨ৎ────

jeongguk didn’t wish for his birthday party to look like this.

the second he casually mentioned that his parents would be out of town on the very same day he would turn 21, his small friend group (consisting of the two nerdiest guys in college, probably even battling him for the top spot) took it on them to turn what he imagined would be a calm, quiet night spent with the comfort of jimin and taehyung in front of video games into a contending rival of a literal frat party. in his own house. when he never approved of it, nor asked for it.

there’s an inestimable amount of faces he has never seen before this moment, but they all seem to know him, congratulating him every time he comes in their vision. then, they go back to drinking, kissing, soft-fucking on his couch, and seemingly pumping up the volume of the music more and more with each blasting and ungraceful song.

that is probably why he’s struggling a bit more than he usually does with breathing. he’s a huge germaphobe, and having all these strangers barge into his space and lean on every possible surface with their greasy, alcohol stained hands has him close to hyperventilating.

he still hasn’t figured out how his two friends did it, but they managed to involve what looked like the whole uni into coming at jeongguk’s 21st birthday party like it was an unmissable event. it truly did seem like one, though, the birthday boy looking around in a confused awe and realizing this is all he’s ever missed from his teenage years. meh. not all that.

what really got him struggling to breathe is you. you, the most popular girl in college, talks about you on the mouths of all guys and girls in the hallways, loved yet envied by every single one of them, are here. and when you greeted him, you did so with a kiss for each of his cheeks. he stood there like he truly was going to let his lungs stop working, and you just smiled up at him through your long lashes and big eyes.

you’re not popular for the cliché reasons a girl in college might be. you’re not mean, you don’t square uncool people from head to toe with a judging look, you’re not known to be scary and unapproachable. the reason why you’re surrounded by a devoted swarm of bees is because you’re the literal definition of an angel.

an angel always ready to help anyone who seems like struggling, flash them with pearly whites, and be impossible to resist with bug, wide eyes conveying all your most honest emotions.

you’re known for genuine reasons. he’s never even heard many rumors about you, and if he did he assumed it was coming from way too envious people. the only thing he allowed himself to believe about your privacy, is that you’re very caring in bed.

he won’t admit it, feels disgusting for it, but he’s touched himself to that thought a couple of times. maybe more.

it doesn’t matter now, because you’re closer to him than you’ve ever been, and you sit in the overwhelming circle that has formed on the floor of his living room, people he has never even talked to proposing games and pushing drinks into his hand since he’s now 21.

unlike most people, that number doesn’t mean a lot to him. he’s not that thrilled about the knowledge that he can now get his hands on anything that was previously denied to him, alcohol and substances of those sorts. he never liked them, and he doesn’t think he will just because of this newfound freedom.

he’s now getting the full experience when someone, sharp-eyed and drunk on audacity, spots the wooden door to his dad’s wine cellar left slightly ajar and suggests seven minutes in heaven with the kind of enthusiasm jeongguk imagines newton felt when that apple hit his head.

on his right, jimin panics for jeongguk, “you’re not going to fuck in mr. jeon’s wine cellar.”

“who said anything about fucking?” dahye, a friend of yours, the complete opposite of you with a mean aura and sliced eyes, intervenes and has everyone laughing.

jimin rolls his eyes and plops down from where he straightened up on his knees, and jeongguk stays silent. he gave up fighting long ago, when the first drink spilled on his carpet.

he just gives a tight-lipped smile when his blonde friend tries an apologetic look, shaking his head and studying the room. jeongguk gulps when his eyes inevitably fall on yours, and he finds you already staring, an intensity he hasn’t seen often. when he’s sure he’s perfectly resembling a deer caught in headlights, you tilt your head amusedly, and he hastily focuses back down on his lap.

“well, since jimin is so afraid we’re gonna break his boyfriend’s stuff,” dahye continues, feeding off the childish chuckles coming from around her, and maybe also off jimin’s annoyed glare, “why don’t we let the birthday boy go first?”

at that, jeongguk’s head snaps up, his fluffy hair bouncing with the sudden movement, and he looks around wide eyed. he’s not sure what the game entails, he just knows something is supposed to happen, but he’s not sure exactly what the people hungrily gawking at him are expecting.

taehyung is about to add something when dahye interrupts once again, resting her hand on your lap beside her, “he can go with ___. i know that would make his day.”

sitting at her left, you’re the only one who doesn’t laugh at the sneaky implication; instead, you glare at your friend, who shrugs in response.

both jimin and taehyung fall in total silence, their eyes alarmingly looking at their friend in the middle. jeongguk seems a hundred times more panicked, but not because of the same reasons.

while his two best friends are simply excited at the prospect of jeongguk’s every dream coming true, eagerly expecting a positive answer from his mouth, jeongguk’s whole focus is on you, and your seemingly impassive face. his mind spins with haunting worries, giving at least twenty different interpretations to the way you’re looking at him, brows subtly twitching up.

he clumsily parts his lips to say something, but with absolutely no senseful thought swarming his brain, nothing comes out.

a beat of anticipated silence goes by before you gracefully stand up, all eyes following you, and even if quiet, your voice goes through the music, “let’s go, gguk.”

jeongguk loudly gulps, and he hopes the sound isn’t heard, but he doubts it since he’s receiving a scary amount of attention that goes over what he’s received his whole life.

if it wasn’t for the two guys at his sides pushing him to stand up, he would have stayed with his ass perched to the floor. instead, he stumbles and almost trips, meeting your eyes with awkward shame as you just softly smile at his gawkiness.

you don’t wait for him, daintily walking to the room victim of the game, pushing the door open and curiously peeking inside. jeongguk hastily jumps over the people sitting on the ground, still quietly observing the scene, and he’s at your side way faster than the time it took for him to even realize what was about to happen.

he exhales loudly at the proximity, standing behind you and basking in the height difference, your head barely reaching his chest, and he thinks he truly sees heaven when you turn around to look up at him, grinning delicately as you tilt your head back, “wanna go in?”

jeongguk is sure he has lost the capability to speak. no matter the sounds he tries to force up his throat, they’re not strong enough to fight their way out. he simply closes the door behind the two of you, and he’s glad when it significantly helps drown out the loud music and drunkish chatter.

he’s less glad for it when it means he’s officially left alone with you in a relatively cramped space, the silence almost more suffocating than the room and its strong smell. but he’s convinced you must be an angel when you don’t complain, not even slightly, your face the expression of composure.

he stands in the middle of the cellar while you explore it in a circle, letting your heels click on the parquet floor and your fingers carefully brush the wine bottles.

the simple action makes him feel hot, naughty mind conjuring up images of you tracing his skin with such care, and he releases a shaky breath before you can stop him, blurting his messy thoughts out, “we— we don’t have— have to do anyt—”

“sit on that stool, gguk.”

the command is anything but harsh, your voice a soft melody of calmness, but it still startles him. no, it shakes something in his chest, traveling all the way down to where he’s starting to feel a strong urge.

you point to a wooden stool in the corner of the room, which doesn’t look too high, but when he obediently goes to sit on it with his knees wobbling, you promptly place yourself in front of him and grin at the way he’s still almost at face level with you, his forehead reaching only a little under your chin.

his huge proportions compared to yours have always managed to make your head spin and thighs squeeze together whenever you managed to sit next to him in the few lectures you shared, lashes fluttering seductively to have him fix nonexistent bugs on your computer just to see his wide hand close to yours on the keyboard.

now, with his puppy eyes staring up at you expectantly, his drawn up brows only emphasizing his yearning, you need to steady yourself with hands on his shoulder to hold back from quite literally grinding on him. you whisper, “good.”

his orbs shake impossibly more, and from the corner of your eye you see his fingers fidgeting in his lap, fighting a delirious need. his legs are spread just enough for you to be standing right in the middle of them, but you push yourself further into him, his chin lifting up even higher to never be forced to look away from your firm gaze, hanging from your lips when you voice an apology, “i didn’t bring a gift, ggukkie.”

jeongguk is almost panting, the endearing nicknames only adding to the warmth of your sweet body, your vanilla scent clouding his senses and gouging the truth out of him, “th—that’s okay, ___. i—i’m very happy you’re here.”

you smile, but it’s one he’s never seen on you. it’s not one of those you flash when you’re grateful, understanding, or even amused. it’s mischievous, almost belittling. “are you saying i’m your gift?”

his eyes widen, and he’s ashamed of the way your accusative tone causes him to throb in his jeans, and in his speech too, “huh— oh my god. i’m so sorry. that must sound so—”

you chuckle, stroking his broad back with your hands sliding across his width, “hey, slow down. it sounds so very cute coming from your lips.”

jeongguk appreciates your efforts at trying to put him at ease, truly. but your soothing touch and words only have him in a state of alert, even more when your fingers travel up his nape and find home in his locks. you’re impossibly close now, and he feels your voice resounding within him, “but i’m still not satisfied. i wanna give you more, make you forgive me.”

your whisper fans over his lips, and he unconsciously parts them for you, his eyes hooded by the second and glassed over with desperate want. you smirk.

stepping back enough for his neck to rest at a comfortable angle, he whimpers deliciously at the loss of your touch, but you shut him up just as quickly when your dress is off you and on the wooden floor in a swift motion.

jeongguk is definitely panting now, breathing manually and focusing too much on having his heart pump oxygen for him rather than the view of your exposed body in front of him.

he gradually realizes he could care less about dying right now if it means the last thing he’s going to be faced with is your nipples hardening with the cool, and hopefully something else, and your lacy white panties barely covering your core.

jeongguk stares like a starved man being met with his first meal after weeks of seeking, his hands trembling on his thighs and squeezing into suppressing fists.

his gasp turns into an awfully high-pitched moan when you hook a finger under the hem of your lingerie, sliding it daintily down your legs and walking out of it, never breaking eye contact with him. only thing you’re left with are your high heeled boots.

the next thing you do has the organs that keep all his vital functions going completely stop working, his heart missing more than ten beats and catching up with an alarmingly fast speed, causing his voice to shake, “___, wh—what are you—”

swinging one of your legs, you sit on him with your ingloriously stained panties pressing right on his crotch, hands placed back on the base of his neck, basking in the way you can feel his rapid beating under your fingers.

you lean into his ear, “if you like what you see, you can put your hands on me, baby.”

jeongguk throws his head back for air, his chest heaving with trembling exhales before he finds your eyes again, and in the fraction of second he needed to look elsewhere if he didn’t want to bust in his tight pants already, you’re a whole different person.

your eyes are sliced, pupils blown and hooded, and your parted lips stretch just enough to paint a wicked smirk over your face, its effects flooding right down his stomach and making you feel his hardness through the material.

his hands dance a panicked rhythm hovering over your sides, not sure what to do, not deeming himself deserving of feeling your skin under his touch. but you take it upon yourself to guide them, pressing his palms against your hips and letting them ride up your exposed breasts.

he whimpers, fingertips unconsciously testing the sense of the soft curve of your boobs with a subtle press, but it’s not enough. you can’t feel him.

with your hands still on his, you arch yourself further into his touch and have his thumbs slice over your sensitive nubs, letting out a moan of your own that goes over his low groan. you lick your lips and struggle to find your breath and words too, but you whisper them through an already too fucked out smile, “see? you can touch me, just like that.”

the go-ahead is all he needs for him to dive his head right into your chest, his tongue catching your nipple in an unpracticed hunger, messily sucking on it and quickly leaving your skin soaked with spit. he works clumsily with his hand on your other tit, movements uncoordinated and unsure.

but the fact that he seems to not care about his inexperience, willing to learn right at this moment all it takes for you to keep whimpering and trembling when he touches, has your usually composed senses lost in a haze of desire, the need to give your all to the nerdy boy that is finally being properly touched just as he turns 21 clouding your senses and pushing you to unconsciously buck your hips against his.

he moans with his mouth full of you, his free hand gripping your thigh, and he tries to stop it but he can’t help the way he meets your grinding, snapping up as if he lost all sort of control over his body. he quite literally wails in desperation, “fuck— don’t— don’t do that. i’m gonna— oh, god.”

“you’re gonna cum?” you sound just as crazed, hips rutting at a faster speed on him, the slickness smearing all over his jeans and leaving a wet patch right where his dick stays confined.

“no! i— i mean, just give me a second, shit. i swear, i—”

“ggukkie, this is about you. i’ll make you cum, hm? how’s that sound?” the sweet sound of your promise has him seeing stars, eyes squeezing shut as he feels himself getting close to a point he doesn’t think he’s ever reached before.

until he’s back to zero.

you lift your hips off his, helping your weight up by placing your hands on his broad shoulders, and you sport a devilish smile when he opens his eyes again, protest ready on his tongue. his brows are furrowed and there’s tears ready to spill out from his eyelids, but you don’t let them.

the huge palm that was still fondling your breast is now being led by you further down, until it disappears between you. you have him cup your wet core, the intensity of the moment only heightened by your gaze never leaving his, “touch me.”

when panic flashes over his expression once again, you instruct him through it just how you did minutes before, and he quickly gets the hang of it. you always appreciated him being a fast learner, but you couldn’t imagine that it would come handy in a scenario like this one.

you hum when his ring and middle finger trace your slit, only to come up to try and find your clit in a surprisingly good attempt, “good, get all of it. make your hand wet.”

the moment squelching sounds reach your ears, you leave your seat from his lap and stand on your heels again. he whines, unknowingly reaching for you, but you halt his hand and redirect it on the zipper of his jeans. you tilt your chin, “take them off.”

he’s quicker than he was at the beginning of his seven minutes in heaven now, freeing himself from the tight pants, boxers going along with it, and his cock springs free deliciously, standing tall and proud against his tummy.

you groan, almost already falling to your knees like you are planning to do soon. it’s an adjective you don’t think you’ve ever used on any of the guys you’ve been with, but jeongguk’s cock is pretty. its pink tip matches his lips, swollen from the harsh biting, and it doesn’t look rough. it has just the perfect length, girth, and when it twitches under your awe, you see it bend subtly to the right.

you smile, meeting his face again, delirious need written all over it, “stroke your cock with the hand you touched me with,” the second the order is out your lips, he’s already working himself. you can see him trying to go at a merciful speed, his grip loose, and it makes you grin amusedly, “mh, aren’t you so obedient. let me have a taste, gguk.”

you clearly have noticed that he’s not as quick on his feet as he usually is, brain clouded, so you once again take it upon yourself to lead his hand, this time introducing two of his fingers in your warm mouth. you hum loudly around the thick digits, eyes rolling back, and you speak around them, “fuck, you wanna try that?”

you don’t wait for him to reply, knowing it would get him minutes that you sadly don’t have to formulate a senseful answer, and you simply feed him his own fingers, carefully watching the way he lets his cheek hollow around them. you chuckle feverishly, “we taste so good together, don’t we?”

he nods eagerly, eyes glassy with more tears, and you think you can see one drop at the side of his face just as you fall to your knees in front of his seated body, your pretty figure even smaller from his view, and he’s graced with your bug eyes staring up at him through long lashes.

you don’t waste any more time, knowing there’s not much left in the heaven you’ve created for your own, and you wrap your ravenous mouth around him, showing none of the previous mercy in your speed.

he lets his mouth hang open, moans uncontrollably loud, and he needs to grab the sides of his stool to get the illusion of some sort of power still left within him. he closes his eyes in bliss, but quickly snaps them open when he realizes what he’s missing.

you’re bobbing your head up and down his length, and you still manage to maintain that dainty elegance that characterizes you, slim fingers gripping around the base and making up for the spots you can’t reach. he pants on the verge of a heart attack, pitch high as he begs, “fuck. look— look up at me, please.”

you do, aligning yourself better to meet his frenzied state, eyes communicating all the words you can’t say, too engaged in having him unravel all over your lips. he groans at the eye contact, thinking back to all the times he’s seen this exact scene flash behind his closed eyelids, and he’s a fool for even believing his mere imagination could compare.

it will never be enough, never again. not after this. not after knowing what you look like as you devote yourself to him, precise movements getting him closer, the way your tongue flickers out to reach down further and how you let his tip meet the back of your throat finally causing him to snap his hips up involuntarily, and before he can say something to warn you, he’s painting your warm mouth with his cum.

ropes of white, hot liquid spill out from you, but you promptly collect all of it, making sure not a single drop is missed, gulping it down with eager want. you wordlessly smile up at him, infatuated with the way his chest heaves and his lips part, trying to regain some composure.

he thinks he will need hours to fully recover. and he’s not even sure he wants this moment to end, blurting his predominant thought out before he knows it, “i wanna make you feel good, too.”

you chuckle as you get up, quickly soothing your knees before collecting your panties from the ground and walking back inside them, “it’s okay, baby. this was my birthday gift for you, hm? besides, we don’t have much time left before the others come in.”

“but…”

jeongguk helplessly watches as you get dressed, cringing at the stickiness of your wet core but nonetheless slipping your flowy dress back on. he just had the best orgasm of his life from the girl he firmly believes to be the love of his life, and he doesn’t get to give it back. oh, he feels like an absolute asshole.

you seem to read it all simply by scanning his face fondly, words soft, “that doesn’t mean you won’t get to do that, you cute boy. you will, and soon.”

when you��re done fixing the creases over your clothes, you walk to him and help him back in his jeans. tucking his softening length in, you lift up the zip of his pants and you’re glad for the way the patch of your wetness seems to have dried.

standing between his spread legs, you brush a hand through his hair, tenderly watching the way his curls fall and tickle his forehead. you smile and whisper quietly, “i got your number from dahye. i’ll text you, okay?”

he gulps, nodding hastily at your rhetorical question and feeling the blush creep up his neck. god, he must look like a total fool, “o—okay…”

humming lowly, you press your lips to his cheek, then to the tip of his nose, “you’re so pretty, you know that? don’t be sad.” next, your mouth rests on his, molding in a kiss that has his eyes shooting wide, and that ends way before he can even realize what’s happening. you chuckle at his expression, and you can’t resist another peck before promising, “happy birthday, gguk.”

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creamflix · 6 days ago

Note

Hiiiii queen, not sure if your requests are open but what are your thoughts on a reader x gym instructor Toji fic? as a gym girly, I’m feining for that shit bjsjsbsh 😭 If you’re not into it, no worries at all, just ignore this! thankyou loveyou 😛 hope u have an amazing day <3

HOT GIRL SUMMER! — toji fushiguro x female reader

18+ content, minors and blank blogs do not interact. gym trainer toji, gym trainee reader. mentions of gojo satoru. toji's kinda a dork. lots of sexual tension. big dick toji yessir. orgasm control & denial. doggy style. fingering (f. receiving). big four: dirty talk, degradation, teasing and praise. slight dacryphilia. overstimulation and mindbreak. hair pulling. semi-clothed sex. locker room sex. p in v sex (protected!! no creampies today folks). crack + fluff ending, somewhat aftercare?

thank you to anon who requested this <3 i hope you enjoy!

— general masterlist ☆ read on ao3

your first day at the gym felt a little like the first day of school — except instead of a backpack full of supplies, you had a duffel bag stuffed with coordinated athleisure and just a tiny bit of misplaced confidence.

toji fushiguro. the name echoed in your head like a mantra, which was completely coincidental and not at all the result of a quick late-night “gym instructor thirst trap” google search. nope, not at all.

as you walked in, the gym smelled of disinfectant and...testosterone? was that what testosterone smelled like? you weren’t sure, but it had a distinct, musky gym-bro-y vibe. before you could question your life choices, a deep, gravelly voice boomed over the general clatter of weights and treadmills.

“alright, rookies! welcome to hot girl summer bootcamp. i’m your instructor, toji. keep up, and you’ll love me. fall behind...and you’ll still love me, just a little less. maybe. let’s go!”

oh.

my.

god.

this man wasn’t just hot. he was illegal. broad shoulders that could probably carry a family of four, a scar on his lips that somehow made him hotter, and those arms — did the gym air conditioning suddenly malfunction, or were you overheating just looking at him?

play it cool, you thought, adjusting your cropped tank top and hoping you looked effortlessly sporty rather than like someone who stayed up all night watching his gym tutorials on youtube.

“you, newbie,” toji pointed in your direction, his sharp green eyes locking onto yours. “what’s your goal for the program?”

your brain short-circuited. goal? what goal?

“uh, uh...i want to — uh…” you stammered, your mouth suddenly drier than a protein shake with no milk. “be able to...carry all my groceries in one trip?” nailed it.

he raised an eyebrow, smirking as if you were the funniest thing he’d heard all morning. “realistic. i respect that.”

as he moved on to interrogate another poor soul about their fitness dreams, you caught yourself staring at the way his tank top clung to his chest. focus! focus! groceries!

the first warm-up nearly killed you.

it wasn’t even anything extreme — just high knees and jumping jacks — but you were convinced your spirit left your body halfway through. toji, however, didn’t seem to notice your imminent demise.

“c’mon, grocery girl,” he teased, jogging over to you during a plank hold. “don’t tap out on me already. what’s that, two minutes?”

two minutes felt like two hours.

“easy for you to say,” you panted, glaring at him. “you look like you eat kettlebells for breakfast.”

toji crouched beside you, his smirk growing wider. “nah, i eat waffles. protein ones. maybe i’ll make you some when you hit your first milestone.”

oh, so you’re a malewife too? just take me now.

you managed to survive the rest of the class, though it involved more wheezing than you’d like to admit. as you grabbed your water bottle, toji sauntered past, giving you a casual, devastating grin.

“good hustle, grocery girl,” he said. “see you tomorrow?”

you nodded, cheeks flaming. “yeah, tomorrow,” you replied, already dreading the soreness that was about to hit you in waves.

walking out of the gym, you made a mental note:

stop chanting his name during your nightly activities, because that would definitely get weird if you slipped up in class.

figure out how to be normal around the human equivalent of a greek god.

spoiler alert: you wouldn’t succeed.

— ☆

toji leaned against the front desk, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he eyed satoru, who was fiddling with his phone instead of paying attention to literally anything else. typical.

"seriously, satoru," toji grumbled, his voice a low growl. "five grand for this program? five? you think these rookies deserve me for that price? do you know how many squats i had to watch today? squats, done wrong."

"aw, c’mon, toji," satoru drawled, not even looking up. "think of it as community service. you're making the world hotter one newbie at a time." he flicked his snow-white bangs out of his annoyingly perfect face.

"besides, you love attention. what are you complaining about?"

toji's scowl deepened. "attention doesn't pay my rent, dipshit. if i wanted praise, i'd do push-ups on the street. and don't call this ‘community service.’ i ain't some saint."

satoru grinned, finally setting his phone down. "you're just mad because you can't charge extra for...specialized instruction." his grin turned wicked. "you know, one-on-one, intense focus...maybe a hand here, a hand there."

"you're disgusting," toji deadpanned, though he didn’t bother denying the accusation.

"but i'm not wrong," satoru shot back, leaning on his elbows. "soooo? any student caught your eye yet? some sweaty rookie got your heart racing?"

toji huffed, his lip curling into a smirk. "isn’t it obvious?"

satoru blinked, genuinely curious. "wait, for real? who? the one in the neon pink outfit? or the guy with the weight belt who clearly didn’t need it?"

toji ignored the question, grabbing his water bottle from the counter. "none of your business, dipshit. but let’s just say someone’s got a long way to go before they’re carrying groceries in one trip."

“groceries?” satoru cackled, almost doubling over. “oh, man. you really know how to pick ‘em, huh? let me guess, rookie can’t plank for more than thirty seconds without praying for salvation?”

toji’s smirk widened just a fraction, and he turned toward the gym floor. "thirty seconds? generous. more like twenty. but...they've got potential."

“potential or a cute face?” satoru called after him, earning himself the bird as toji disappeared into the weight room.

satoru shook his head, still chuckling. “toji, you greedy bastard. just don’t make it weird, yeah?”

as if that was possible.

— ☆

day three, and your thighs felt like they’d been personally cursed by the devil himself. you were convinced that even sitting down was a workout at this point.

but toji? toji looked fresher than a damn protein shake commercial — biceps bulging, sweat glistening, and his sharp green eyes scanning the room like a predator hunting his next meal.

and maybe, just maybe, you were on the menu.

you caught him staring again. or maybe that was just wishful thinking? nah. those weren’t just glances — they were slow, deliberate, and paired with that cocky little smirk that said he knew. knew you were stealing glances at him every time he turned his back. knew you were biting your lip and adjusting your shorts every time he got too close.

“grocery girl!” his voice cut through your haze, and you nearly tripped over your own feet.

“y-yeah?” you stammered, clutching your water bottle like it was a lifeline.

“plank position,” he ordered, stalking toward you with a towel slung over his shoulder. “let’s see if you’ve improved since day one.”

improved? babe, i can’t even look at my floor without flashbacks to this torture.

still, you dropped down, doing your best to hold the position without trembling too much. but then he crouched next to you — close enough that you could smell the clean, heady scent of his sweat — and suddenly, holding anything became a challenge.

“hips down,” he murmured, his voice low, and your brain went static.

before you could process it, his hand was on your lower back, pressing gently to correct your form. “like this. don’t cheat yourself.”

cheat myself? i’m about to cheat on my sanity if you don’t move that hand.

“you good?” he asked, his tone dipping into something almost teasing.

“uh-huh,” you croaked, feeling the tremble in your arms spread to every inch of your body.

“ya sure?” he leaned in just enough for his breath to ghost against your ear. “y’er shakin’ like a leaf.”

if you weren’t so oxygen-deprived, you might’ve said something snarky. instead, you clenched your jaw, determined not to crumble under his gaze — or the weight of his stupidly attractive hand.

“good girl,” he finally said, pulling back.

your entire body locked up.

did. he. just.

“keep it up,” he added casually, walking off like he hadn’t just detonated a dirty bomb in your brain.

you managed to hold the plank for another ten seconds before collapsing into a heap, thighs burning and mind spinning.

grocery girl? more like gone girl.

but as you left the gym that night, legs wobbling and sanity in tatters, you couldn’t stop replaying his words.

maybe next time, you wouldn’t just be locking in groceries. maybe you’d be swinging something a little more...muscular.

— ☆

you burst into the gym like a bat out of hell, duffel bag slung over your shoulder, cheeks flushed, and already out of breath — and you hadn’t even started the workout yet.

the weeknd’s smooth, sultry vocals blared from the speakers, which only made the scene more ridiculous. this wasn’t exactly the kind of music that screamed “fitness bootcamp.” but then again, satoru — ever the chaotic piece of shit — was in charge of the playlist. because why not let the white-haired menace control everything?

“late again,” toji’s voice sliced through the air, sharp and low, cutting right into your frazzled panic.

you froze mid-sprint, your brain short-circuiting as you turned toward him. he was standing at the front of the gym, arms crossed, one brow raised in a perfect arch of judgment.

“got caught up,” you said, lamely holding up your water bottle like it explained anything.

toji didn’t budge. he didn’t even blink. instead, his eyes dragged over you slowly, assessing. it wasn’t the fun kind of eyeing-up you hoped for; it was the “how much time are you about to waste” look.

“class started fifteen minutes ago,” he said, his tone laced with that signature mix of annoyance and condescension that had you wanting to melt into the floor.

“yeah, well, blame the playlist,” you blurted, motioning toward the speakers. “you ever try running on time to ‘earned it?’”

the corner of toji’s mouth twitched, but he quickly covered it by rubbing the back of his neck. “don’t try blaming satoru for your inability to read a clock.”

you swallowed, your cheeks heating up even more. “i’ll make it up, promise!”

toji snorted, shaking his head as he stepped closer. “oh, you’ll make it up alright.”

you blinked. “huh?”

“stay after class,” he said simply, his gaze locking onto yours. “you can finish the session one-on-one. wouldn’t want you wasting that bargain-bin fee you paid for this ‘hot girl summer’ thing.”

your jaw nearly hit the floor. stay back? alone? with toji?

your brain immediately jumped into overdrive, filling in all the blanks with...decidedly non-fitness-related scenarios.

“uh, sure,” you managed to squeak, your voice somehow two octaves higher than normal.

“good,” he said, already turning away. “get moving, grocery girl. we’re doing circuits today.”

as you stumbled to the nearest mat, still reeling from the interaction, satoru leaned out from behind the front desk, earbuds dangling.

“one-on-one, huh?” he sing-songed, loud enough for you to hear over the weeknd’s crooning. “careful, rookie. toji’s not great with boundaries.”

toji flipped him the bird without even looking back, and you bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing — or screaming.

you didn’t know whether to be mortified or excited, but one thing was certain: this program was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

toji leaned against the squat rack, arms folded over his chest, watching you with a smirk that had trouble written all over it. sure, he didn’t care who rolled into class late — hell, he didn’t even care if they showed up. paycheck was a paycheck. but you? oh, you were special.

watching you stumble in all flustered and breathless, making excuses about playlists and time management? priceless.

now, you were sprawled out on the bench, your brows furrowed in determination as you pushed up a whole ten kilograms like it was the weight of the world. your form was...passable, at best.

“careful there, champ,” toji drawled, stepping closer. “don’t wanna overdo it. wouldn’t want you pulling a muscle with that massive load.”

you shot him a glare, though the pink creeping up your neck betrayed your attempt at nonchalance. “’s fine. i’ve got this.”

toji crouched down next to you, resting his forearms on his knees as he tilted his head, studying your face. “uh-huh. ya sure? y’er arms shakin’ like a chihuahua in a thunderstorm.”

“they’re not!” you protested, though your voice wobbled a little.

“mhmm,” he hummed, leaning in just enough to make your pulse spike. “y’er breathin’ all wrong too. gotta pace yourself. in through your nose, out through your mouth. like this.”

before you could argue, he demonstrated, exhaling slow and deliberate, his lips quirking into a smirk when your eyes flicked to them.

“got it?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

you nodded quickly, your grip on the bar tightening as you tried to focus.

“good,” he said, standing up and moving behind the bench. “because i’m upping the weight.”

“what — wait!” you yelped, nearly dropping the bar as he added an extra plate to each side.

“relaaxx, grocery girl,” toji said, his smirk widening. “y’er stronger than ya think. or is it all talk?”

your jaw dropped. “i’m not all talk!”

“prove it.”

you gritted your teeth, determined not to give him the satisfaction of backing down. with a deep breath, you pushed up the bar again, your muscles screaming in protest.

“there you go,” toji said, his voice annoyingly calm. “juusst like that. keep goin’. you wanna make it to after-class, don’t you?”

you nearly dropped the bar. “excuse me?!”

toji chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “you heard me. gotta be in top shape for...extra training. wouldn’t wanna disappoint, would you?”

you sat up, face burning, and watched him walk away, his broad shoulders and infuriating smirk seared into your brain.

what the hell had you signed up for?

— ☆

toji cursed under his breath, leaning on the counter at the front desk where satoru was spinning a pen between his fingers like he had nothing better to do.

“the hell are you even doing here?” toji grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “you’re not even working today.”

“who says ‘m not working?” satoru chirped, not bothering to look up. “i’m in charge of morale. and you look like you could use some.”

toji rolled his eyes. “whatever. just...ya got a condom or what?”

that got satoru’s attention. the pen stilled, and his blue eyes flicked up, wide with mock surprise. “toji fushiguro asking me for protection? man, didn’t think i’d live to see the day!”

“shut the hell up,” toji growled, looking around like the floor might swallow him whole.

“relax, big guy,” satoru teased, standing up and fishing through his gym bag. “why do you need one anyway? didn’t know you were into ‘safe sets.’”

toji’s eye twitched. “just hand it over.”

“ohhh,” satoru grinned, pulling out a foil packet and dangling it between two fingers. “don’t tell me this is for grocery girl? you finally gonna ask her if she’s dtf?”

toji swiped the condom out of his hand, shoving it in his pocket. “shut up, and dtf doesn’t mean what you think it does.”

“doesn’t it?” satoru grinned, leaning on the counter. “down to flexibility? full-body workout? man, she’s been killing those planks lately. bet she could handle it.”

toji muttered something incomprehensible, walking away before he could throttle the smug bastard.

back in the gym, you were finishing your last set, your face flushed and sweat dripping down your temple. despite the tremble in your arms, you racked the weights with a triumphant sigh.

“better late than never,” toji said, his voice low and smug as he appeared beside you.

“jesus, do you ever not sneak up on people?” you snapped, though your smile betrayed the irritation.

“you survived,” he said, ignoring your jab and eyeing you with a mix of approval and something darker. “good. now you ready for your after-class session?”

you blinked, tilting your head in confusion. “after-class? i thought we were done.”

toji smirked, leaning in just enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “oh, we’re just getting started.”

his eyes flicked over you, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch.

“now let’s see how flexible you really are,” he murmured, straightening up and motioning for you to follow him.

your heart pounded as you trailed behind him, the faintest smirk tugging at your lips.

maybe satoru wasn’t entirely wrong about the full-body workout after all.

— ☆

you may have looked like the epitome of gym-girl confidence on the outside, with your matching hot pink spandex set, a perfectly executed high ponytail, and that “accidental” giggle whenever toji smirked your way, but inside? absolute chaos. a full-blown mental spiral.

did you stink? like...bad enough to ruin the vibe? gym sweat wasn’t exactly the kind that screamed sexy glisten. and no, BO unfortunately didn’t stand for bend over — though give it a few minutes and maybe that could change. if you played your cards right.

was your hair still in place? you couldn’t even check without making it obvious. sure, it felt secure, but your elastic had seen things today, and who’s to say it wasn’t moments away from snapping like your sanity?

and your lips — oh god, your lips. you’d spent twenty minutes on that routine before leaving the house, crafting the kind of pout that was supposed to say “effortlessly kissable.” the process itself had been more intensive than a skincare regime, involving a lineup of:

a honey sugar scrub (scrub, rinse, repeat),

a hydrating lip mask (because you weren’t about to let crust ruin the vibe),

a peach-toned lip liner to enhance the shape (read: fake plumpness),

a glossy pink-tinted balm for the natural flush, and

a strategically placed clear gloss dab right at the center for that “i’m dewy and so is my life” illusion.

now? that careful work had probably melted into oblivion, and you were too chicken to check in case it looked like you’d been eating barbecue wings during your bench presses.

but there was no time to worry about any of that now. because toji — yes, your gym instructor toji — had waved you into the locker room with one of those stupidly smug smirks, the kind that promised trouble.

and now here you were, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty space, his broad frame taking up way too much room as he leaned against the lockers, arms crossed.

“so,” he drawled, his deep voice practically dripping with amusement, “you gonna stand there all day, or did you actually wanna get to the...extra training?”

you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry despite your meticulous hydration schedule all day. “oh, um, yeah. totally. i’m ready.”

toji arched a brow, taking a slow step toward you. “you sure? because you look a little...distracted.”

“i’m not distracted!” you blurted, louder than intended. “i’m just...focused.”

he chuckled, low and gravelly, closing the space between you in two strides. “focused, huh?” his gaze flicked down to your lips, lingering just long enough to make your knees wobble.

“then prove it,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “show me just how much you’ve been paying attention.”

your breath hitched as he leaned in, his hand coming to rest on the locker beside your head.

mental checklist? forgotten. lip gloss? nonexistent. your name? who even knows.

but whatever was about to happen, you were damn sure it was about to be worth it.

— ☆

toji had this all planned out — or so he thought.

he was supposed to be the cool, non-chalant one here, the collected gym instructor with the alpha energy. though just thinking that phrase made him grimace. alpha energy?

yikes. he’d rather drop his dumbbells on his own feet than lean into that nonsense.

but still, he had a role to play, didn’t he? lead the charge, keep it professional until it wasn’t. you know, manly things. hot-gym-instructor-guy things.

except now, as he leaned casually (or so he hoped) against the locker, one arm propped above your head, his brain was running through a thousand different scenarios, none of which involved him being the one to lose his cool first.

toji couldn’t help it though — he was sweating. not just the faint gym sheen kind of sweat, but the sweating bullets kind, the kind that made him worried he’d be the one stinking up the confined space of the locker room. which, really, was the last thing he needed when he was trying to exude effortless charm.

he opened his mouth, ready to play it smooth. “so, you —”

and then your lips were on his, crashing into him with so much urgency it almost made him stumble.

oh. okay then.

toji froze for half a second — half a heartbeat — before the message clicked loud and clear in his brain. whatever he thought he was going to say, whatever stupid quip he had lined up, melted into nothing as he cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer like the damn door to the locker room was about to disappear and leave you stranded.

you tasted faintly like strawberries, probably from whatever overpriced lip product you’d slathered on before this, and toji had to suppress the urge to groan. the kind of groan that might make you think he was more desperate than he wanted to admit. but the way your hands fisted in his tank top, tugging him even closer, made him reconsider — maybe desperation wasn’t so bad.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, your lips flushed and eyes wide, and gave a low chuckle that felt more confident than he actually was in the moment. “well,” he drawled, his voice rougher than he intended, “guess we’re skipping the warm-up.”

you rolled your eyes, but your breath hitched as his hand slid down to your waist. “don’t act like you weren’t waiting for it.”

toji smirked, leaning in until his lips brushed against your ear. “message received, loud and clear, sweetheart.”

he might’ve thought he was supposed to be in charge, but hell, he wasn’t complaining about this turn of events.

“now let’s see if you’ve been keeping up with your endurance training,” he murmured, his voice teasing, but his grip on your hips told you he was already taking this challenge seriously.

training? oh, the session was just getting started.

— ☆

you thought you had an idea. you’d done your research, watched enough videos of the kind of stuff that should’ve prepped you for moments like this. but this? this was an entirely new level of freaky, toe-curling, brain-melting insanity.

toji had a system, a stupidly cruel system that you were 90% sure he cooked up just to mess with you. it was simple: he’d trace a muscle on your body, one agonizingly slow swipe of his rough fingertips at a time, and if you guessed the name of it right? well, you’d cum that many times.

easy, right? wrong. so wrong.

especially because right now, this cocky little shit had your gym spandex yanked down to your thighs, your ass perched high in the air, and was treating this whole situation like it was a damn trivia segment on who wants to be a millionaire. except the prize wasn’t cash — it was a full-blown ride to pound-town.

“alright, genius,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement as his fingers brushed over the curve of your shoulder, down to your upper arm. “name this muscle.”

you froze, your breath hitching as the cool air brushed against your heated skin. “uh — uh, the...deltoid?” you stammered, hoping the few snippets of your high school bio class would come in clutch.

toji snorted, clearly unimpressed. “correct. guess you do pay attention sometimes.”

the next second, he was gripping your hip, his free hand sliding between your thighs in a way that made your brain short-circuit.

oh.

“‘s one,” he muttered against your ear, low and teasing. “don’t get cocky yet, though. we’ve barely started.”

you barely had time to catch your breath before his hand trailed lower, stopping just above your thigh. “now,” he continued, his tone infuriatingly calm for a man currently wrecking your ability to think straight, “what’s this one called?”

you blinked, frantically rummaging through the dark corners of your mind for an answer. shit, what was it? quad? hamstring? quad-something?

“uh...quadricep?” you ventured, your voice shaking.

toji hummed, the sound vibrating against your skin. “good girl. maybe there’s hope for you after all.”

then he moved. his hand, his lips, the sheer weight of him — every part of him was suddenly everywhere at once, dragging you so close you could barely breathe.

and just when you thought you might lose it, he leaned back, smirking like the devil himself.

“next question,” he said, his fingers brushing over the curve of your back. “get it wrong, and we start all over again. think you can handle that, doll?”

you groaned, face buried in your arms. “‘s isn’t fair,” you muttered.

toji chuckled, dark and low. “oh, sweetheart, life isn’t fair. but this?” his grip tightened, his breath warm against your ear. “this is me being generous.”

generous? you’d show him generous. if you didn’t pass out first.

— ☆

“well, well,” toji murmured, his breath hot against your neck as he trailed his lips down your spine, his rough palms kneading the soft curve of your hips. “looks like someone paid attention in class after all. didn’t think you’d actually pass my lil’ quiz, but here we are.”

you should’ve felt victorious, proud even. but all you could focus on was the heat pooling between your thighs and the way his voice dipped into that gravelly tone, each word laced with promise.

“so here’s the reward,” he drawled, sliding a hand beneath you to spread your thighs just a little wider. “two orgasms. back to back. think you can keep up, sweetheart?”

you shuddered, biting down hard on your lip to stop the whimper threatening to spill out.

toji smirked, watching you squirm under him. “oh no, no. don’t get shy on me now,” he teased, his fingers dragging along your slick folds, collecting the evidence of just how desperate you were. “your little cunt’s doin’ all the talkin’ for ya anyway. she’s real chatty tonight, huh?”

you buried your face in your arms, heat blooming across your cheeks as the filthy squelch echoed in the confined space of the locker room.

“awww, embarrassed?” he chuckled darkly, pressing two fingers into you without warning. “don’t be. she’s got a lot to say, and trust me, ‘m alll ears.”

you gasped, clamping a hand over your mouth as he started a slow, deliberate rhythm, curling his fingers just right.

“ah-ah,” toji chided, grabbing your wrist and pinning it to the locker above your head. “none of that. i said quiet, but not that quiet. lemme hear you, baby.”

you whimpered, hips bucking against his hand as his pace quickened, his free hand gripping your ass to keep you in place.

“fucckkk,” he muttered, glancing down at the ruined fabric of your hot pink pants. “look at that. already makin’ a mess, huh?”

your head shot up, panic flashing across your face. “toji! these are new —”

“not my problem,” he interrupted, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he pressed his thumb against your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “you shoulda thought about that before you wore somethin’ so tight. can’t even blame me. ya lil’ cunt’s the one makin’ all the mess.”

you groaned, half from frustration and half from the sheer overwhelming sensation as he added another finger, stretching you just right.

“tell ya what,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leaned closer, lips brushing against your ear. “if you make it through both without ruinin’ those pants completely...maybe, just maybe, i’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”

“but if ya don’t?” toji chuckled, biting gently at your earlobe. “well...guess you’ll just have to wear ‘em messy next time.”

— ☆

“fucckk, you’re s’tight,” toji grunted, his fingers dragging slick trails over your thighs as he teased his tip against your entrance. “first with those tiny-ass weights, now this? guess i gotta stretch you out for the real deal, huh?”

you whimpered into your forearm, legs trembling from the aftershocks of the first orgasm he’d just coaxed out of you with his damn fingers alone. your head was a haze of pleasure and overstimulation, too lost in it to even realize how thoroughly you’d ruined your cute pink pants.

“hey,” he rasped, smacking your ass lightly to snap you back. “don’t go floatin’ off on me just yet, sweetheart. we’re just gettin’ started.”

his voice dropped lower, the sound rolling through the locker room like a growl as he pressed the fat head of his cock to your slick entrance, giving just the slightest nudge. “shit, you’re fuckin’ drippin’ already. you want it that bad, huh? bet you couldn’t even tell me when your pants hit the floor.”

“toji,” you whimpered, trying to form a coherent thought, but it all shattered the moment he pushed just the tip inside.

“ohh fuucckkk yeah,” he groaned, his head tilting back, a shudder running through his massive frame. “ya feel that, baby? nice and slow…fuckin’ perfect fit.”

he sank in another inch, his girth forcing you to stretch around him. the burn was sweet, electric, and you couldn’t stop the high-pitched cry that escaped your lips.

“shi, don’t go cryin’ on me now,” he muttered, though his voice was laced with a smirk. “or is it just ‘cause s’too big, huh? couldn’t handle me even if you tried.”

your walls fluttered around him at his words, and he hissed through his teeth, gripping your hips to steady you. “oh, ya like that? filthy lil’ girl. already squeezin’ me like you don’t want me to pull out.”

you tried to push back, eager to take more of him, but toji’s hand slammed down on the curve of your back, holding you in place. “nuh-uh, not s’fast. you’re gonna take me slow, jussst like this,” he grunted, rocking his hips forward and shoving another few inches inside.

“fucccck,” he hissed, leaning down so his chest pressed against your back, his voice all gravel and heat in your ear. “you’re gonna break under me, baby, but you’ll fuckin’ thank me for it later.”

you moaned, gripping the locker for dear life as he finally bottomed out, his cock buried so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

“there we go,” he growled, pulling back slightly before slamming back in, the force jolting you forward. “shit, look at you, takin’ it so good. bet you’ll be thinking ‘bout this every time you put those tight little gym pants on again, huh?”

he thrust again, harder this time, his cock dragging against every nerve ending as he set a brutal pace.

“fuckin’ mess,” he groaned, looking down at the slick mess coating your thighs and dripping onto the floor. “but don’t worry, baby. promise i’ll make it worth ya while.”

toji’s pace was merciless, each snap of his hips pushing you further into the lockers as your trembling hands scrambled for something — anything — to hold on to. the metal surface was cold under your palms, a sharp contrast to the fiery heat pooling low in your belly.

“fuck, look at you,” he grunted behind you, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “all that attitude earlier, now ya can’t even keep your knees steady.”

you whimpered, trying to push back against him, but your legs were too weak to cooperate. toji didn’t seem to mind, one arm looping around your waist to pull you flush against him as his other hand dipped between your legs. the first stroke of his fingers over your clit had your head lolling back against his chest.

“shit,” you gasped, barely able to form the word as he worked tight, relentless circles against the swollen bud.

“what was that, baby?” toji’s voice was a rough purr in your ear, laced with amusement. “can’t hear you over all that babblin’. ya sayin’ somethin’ real important, huh?”

you weren’t, not really. every attempt to speak came out as a mix of incoherent cries and choked moans, your brain too fogged up to string together a single coherent thought.

toji chuckled, leaning back just enough to grab your tit through the snug fabric of your gym top. “shiit, look at these,” he murmured, giving it a firm squeeze that had you arching into his touch. “what’s this one called, huh? c’mon, grocery girl, don’t tell me you’ve been skipping anatomy class.”

you blinked rapidly, trying to summon any semblance of a logical response, but the only thing that tumbled out of your mouth was a breathy, “b-boobs.”

toji froze. for a moment, the locker room was silent except for the wet, obscene sounds of your slick and his choked laugh. “boobs?” he repeated, his tone a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“uh-huh,” you nodded dumbly, too far gone to register the trap you’d just walked into.

toji groaned, but not the kind that promised satisfaction. he pulled back just slightly, the absence of his cock stretching you leaving you whining in frustration. “wrong answer, sweetheart.”

“w-what?” you stammered, your brain slowly catching up.

he pulled his hand away from your clit, ignoring your desperate whine. “told you, you gotta earn it. and what ya just said? ain’t even a muscle.”

“but —”

“nah,” he interrupted, gripping your hips to keep you from squirming against him. “you don’t even get the extra credit for effort.”

you felt him shift behind you, his cock brushing against your inner thigh, just out of reach.

“toojiiii!” you practically wailed, your voice pitching in desperation.

“naaahh, don’t ‘toji’ me now,” he drawled, smirking even though you couldn’t see him. “guess you’ll just have to wait for round two to get it right.”

the realization hit you like a truck: no correct answer, no dick.

“it’s the pectoralis major!” you blurted out, your voice cracking with panic.

toji chuckled low in his throat. “shit, there’s my smart girl,” he murmured, thrusting back inside you with one sharp, fluid motion that knocked the air out of your lungs.

“fuck, baby,” he grunted, picking up his punishing pace once again. “next time, don’t make me work so hard for it, yeah?”

you’re not sure who to thank first — god, your ancestors, or that one stray eyelash wish you made last week — because the way toji’s pounding into you feels like some divine intervention. maybe all of them had a hand in it. you’re sobbing — like, genuinely sobbing — and not just because of the hair-pulling or the fact that toji’s filthy mouth has been spewing the most degrading things you’ve ever heard.

“shit, cryin’ already?” his voice is rough, tinged with smug amusement as he fists your hair tighter. “can’t handle it, baby? nah, you’re tougher than that. gotta be — still lettin’ me wreck this tight little pussy like it’s mine.”

you hiccup a broken moan, legs trembling so violently you’re barely upright, and the lockers are the only thing keeping you from collapsing. your second orgasm hits you like a freight train, ripping through your body so hard you swear you lose all sense of time and space.

“therrre she goes,” toji groans, his grip on your waist tightening as he drives into you harder, chasing his own high. “look at this mess. got you so fucked out you don’t even know where you are, huh?”

you can’t respond — not with how your body’s spasming, clamping down on him like a vice, dragging him closer to his edge.

“fuck, gonna cum with me, yeah?” he growls, voice strained, his hips stuttering as he holds you so close it feels like you’re merging into one.

him cumming is the final nail in the coffin, sending you careening into an aftershock so intense you’re genuinely concerned you might pass out. both of you stay locked in place, panting heavily, sweat dripping off your bodies as the reality of your very messy situation sets in.

toji’s the first to break the silence, his lips quirking into a lazy smirk. “guess you’re gonna need a new gym set, huh? no savin’ this one.”

you groan, burying your face against the locker as if it could somehow swallow you whole. “yeah, no shit.”

he chuckles, pulling back just enough to smack your ass lightly, earning a half-hearted glare from you. “don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it, baby. besides…” he shrugs, flexing a little in his tank top as he adjusts it. “i still look good in this, so we both won here.”

“we truly live in a society,” you mutter under your breath, earning another laugh from him.

he leans down to kiss the side of your neck, smirking against your skin. “damn right we do. now, c’mon, let’s clean up before satoru comes snoopin’. dude’s nosier than a fuckin’ bloodhound.”

— ☆

toji, ever the professional, seems to flip a switch the moment your sweaty, blissed-out bodies part. he’s tugging his tank top back into place and wiping his face like he’s about to lead another class. the audacity.

his voice takes on this infuriatingly instructional tone, his hand on your lower back steadying you as he rattles off something about muscle recovery or post-workout hydration.

“you’re gonna wanna stretch that hamstring later,” he mutters, glancing down at your wobbly legs that threaten to betray you with every second. “looks like you overworked it — shouldn’t push yourself too hard, sweetheart.”

you blink at him, utterly dumbfounded. this man — this man — is casually chatting about hamstrings while his cum is literally dripping down your thighs and your legs are trembling so hard you could probably register on the richter scale.

“you’re seriously talking about muscles right now?” you deadpan, crossing your arms even though they feel like noodles. “toji, ’m boutta faceplant, and you’re out here giving me a biology lecture.”

he grins, a little too pleased with himself, and leans down to plant his hands on his knees, face so close you can practically feel the warmth of his breath. “what, want me to kiss it better or somethin’?”

“kiss me, idiot,” you huff, tugging him forward by the neckline of that stupidly tight tank top until your lips meet his.

and just like that, the gym instructor act shatters. his shoulders relax, his hand curling around your waist with a gentleness that feels so at odds with how he’d been handling you not five minutes ago.

he hums against your lips, pulling back just enough to mutter, “damn, baby, you’re somethin’ else.”

“soooo, does this mean you’re carrying my groceries now?” you tease, brushing some of your messed-up hair out of your face.

“depends,” he smirks, straightening up and patting your ass with zero shame. “can you walk without lookin’ like a baby deer? if not, ’m keepin’ my hands free to catch ya when you inevitably fall on your cute little face.”

you roll your eyes, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck. “big talk for someone who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

“can’t help it,” he shrugs, leaning in close again with that wolfish grin of his. “you make it too damn easy, princess.”

if he keeps this up, your next gym session might be less about training and more about dodging toji’s wandering hands in the frozen food aisle.

566 notes · View notes

jamminvroomvroom · 8 months ago

Note

Hey girlll I love your blog so so so much! Congrats on the 4k bc you absolutely deserve it🫶🏼

I just had a little angsty request for Charles lando or Oscar (you can pick any you’re feeling more atm, I eat up anything ab my boys)

I saw this prompt maybe you could use - - "I can be there when you need me!" "But I did, and you weren't."

late night talking.

op x fem norris!reader

in which lando’s little sister has been sneaking around with his teammate, but it’s starting to have its challenges…

hiiiii thank u sm anon! love this request love you MWAH! so appreciative of this request and all of the others and that y’all trust me to bring your ideas to life!! i hope this hits the way you wanted it to! let me know what you think, big love 🤍

songs to set the mood: late night talking by harry styles, i love you by billie eilish, over my head by james marriott, if these walls could talk by 5sos

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst, fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort, secret relationship, brothers teammate trope (r is lando’s sister), fingering, morning sex, angsty needy sex, lando being an embarrassing little shit

4.1k words

sex and talking. sex and talking. sex and talking.

that’s what you do, oscar and you.

you watch him all weekend, eyes trailing his lean frame, the way his body moves under papaya fabric. then, when your brother finally leaves you alone, you sneak into oscar’s arms, room, bed, whatever’s closest.

you have your way with one another, nothing untouched, unexplored, and then you talk and talk until your lips hurt from stretched out grins and a satisfying ache sets into your spent limbs. you sneak out when the sun comes up the next day and join lando for breakfast in whatever hotel you’re in that weekend.

rinse, repeat.

you can remember the first time you saw him in real life, way back in early 2023, clear as day. you were in bahrain with your brother for testing, the sun in your eyes, and there he was. awkward, stocky, hands buried deep in his mclaren administered slacks. he was littered with moles, mousey brown hair catching the rays of light, chocolate eyes conveying cool confidence that didn’t at all match up with his uncomfortable stance. you could kiss over those moles like a game of dot to dot, tug on his strands that looked like smooth chocolate frosting, sink into his brown irises until you drowned.

lando had caught you staring, sending his elbow into your ribs, and when you turned to glare at him, cuss him out, you saw a look of warning. his eyes said: don’t you fucking dare.

and you didn’t dare, not for a while at least.

“o-osc.” you whine, panting through the waves of eye-watering pleasure.

he’s got you laid out across his massage table, two fingers scissoring into your sodden cunt as his thumb bumps your clit in messy circles.

it’s rare that you sneak away so brazenly like this during a race weekend.

“you gotta be quiet.” oscar shushes you, eyes flitting between your own watery pair and his fingers where they’re working you open.

“trying.” you breathe, slapping your own hand over your mouth when your belly tightens one last time. one wrong move and the entirety of the hospitality suite will know. lando will know. perhaps all of china will know. that’s how good he fucking feels.

you sob into your palm, bucking your hips wildly as you fall apart, spilling all around his relentless fingers. he fucks you through it, grinning coyly as your muffled cries subside.

“c’mere.” oscar lulls, pulling you back towards him. he kisses you deeply, smiling against your lips.

“i should go.” you mumble, pushing his hair back and raking your fingers through his hair.

oscar nods apathetically, reserved all of the sudden. you frown, stealing another quick kiss. you stumble to your feet fixing your underwear and your skirt, and grab your bag from the small sofa.

“we need to be more careful.” his words make your blood run cold.

“more careful?”

you sneak in and out of hotel rooms under the cover of night, you have his name disguised in your phone, you never speak to him in public.

“this was risky.” oscar shrugs. he looks antsy, his entire demeanour changing in a matter of minutes, the ecstasy of watching you writhe all for him worn off.

“this- i- you’re the one who dragged me in here, piastri.” you accuse. ‘piastri’ is reserved for when you’re pissed off, a cagey step back from the affection ‘osc’ that you usually called him. “whatever, i’ve got to go.”

“i’ll see you later?” he poses it as a question, uncertain that you’ll show. he has never been uncertain before, not with you, not with a lot of things. bile rises in your throat, and you scoff.

you can’t reply. the door slams behind you.

“where’ve you been?” lando ruffles your hair, a single eyebrow raised suspiciously.

“got bored with watching you look at data so i went for a walk.” you reply nonchalantly, pushing his hand away.

he hums in response, nodding slowly. it’s like he doesn’t quite believe you but he quickly moves on.

“you coming out with us after the race tomorrow?” lando asks.

“depends on who ‘us’ is.” you reply curtly. you don’t wanna look at oscar’s stupid, handsome face for a second longer than you have to. a familiar sadness sinks into your bones.

“couple of the drivers, alex, carlos, oh and oscar might even be swayed.” you grit your teeth, suddenly frustrated. “anyway, since when do you have beef with drivers? little miss sunshine fallen out with someone?” lando sounds confused, accusatory.

you stay silent, walking into the back of the garage, praying someone will come and steal your brother away.

“hey, you gonna tell me what the problem i-?”

“lando, we need you to look at this.” your brother gets cut off by a frantic engineer, your prayers answered, and is quickly lost to the chaos of the garage.

a pair of warm eyes burn into the side of your head. you turn to see oscar watching you, his eyebrows furrowed as if he’s studying you. he’s fidgeting, playing with his fingers, something strange for the man as cool as a cucumber. you look away as quickly as you can, managing to tear your eyes away from him, a lump forming in your throat which you swallow down.

it’s painful, really. sex and talking, it’s not enough, never has been for even a second. oscar piastri, australian f1 driver, number 81, quickly became your oscar, somewhat against your will.

somewhere in hungary, about 8 months ago

“are we really doing this, piastri?” you giggle, throwing your head back as his lips work your neck.

“need you.” he groans into your skin, low and needy. you’ve never heard him sound so disheveled, so desperate, a far cry from his usual, monotonous self.

“want you, osc.” you pant when his lips find your sweet spot, the feeling of him so delicious on your body.

“have me.” he whispers, falling into bed with you in his lap.

you lay there basking in stunned silence afterwards, a layer of sweat coating your knackered body. your shoulder is pressed flush with oscar’s, not an inch of space between you while you both stare at the ceiling, sporting matching lazy grins.

“i can’t believe we did that.” oscar mutters, a layer of disbelief in his voice.

“i think we should do it again.” you tease, except you are deadly serious.

“agreed.” he breathes.

“this stays between us, right?” you whisper, shyly.

“always.”

always makes your skin crawl now. you’re sick of having him in the dark, of having to avoid him in public for fear of turning into a lovesick fool. it’s embarrassing, really, unrequited love.

you can barely follow qualifying, staring blankly at the empty space in the garage where oscar’s car resides. you manage to catch the radio message through the headset you have on, the one where oscar’s muttering about a stupid mistake that’s just knocked him out. he’s limping back to the pits, licking his wounds.

you feel a pang in your chest, sympathetic and disappointed for him. you wonder what his mistake was, where his mind was. you’ll wait for the right moment, swallow the ache in your heart and your pride, and you’ll comfort him. he gets led away by frustrated engineers immediately, studying lines of data with furrowed eyebrows. you watch from afar, but then your heart sinks to your feet when four words sound through your headphones.

“lando, are you okay?”

will sounds stressed, repeating the four words that make your world stop spinning on its axis. everyone in the garage is staring at the tv screen, breaths held, stomachs tight.

your brothers car sits in tatters, carbon fibre littering the track. you can see the fluorescents of his helmet burrowed in the cockpit, still. your mouth hangs open, one hand clutching your chest, the other covering your quivering lips. you’re numb.

that feeling returns, the one of eyes burning into your weathered features. your wide eyes flit to the australian boy watching you from across the garage, and you beg silently for him to just come to you, pull you close, tell you that lando is okay and that he loves you back.

and lando is okay, his winded voice reassuring you over the radio.

but you stand there alone.

just like always.

somewhere in brazil, about 5 months ago

“what’s your favourite colour?” oscar mumbles lazily, lips bumping your cheekbone.

you’re curled up on his lap watching the sunset from his balcony. he was well behind lando after qualifying, and he’d craved a moment alone with you all day.

the air was thick, humid, the hot orange sun sinking far off in the horizon. you turn to face him, his features illuminated by the hazy glow. the sunlight makes his chocolate eyes sparkle warmly, so pretty.

“brown.” you whisper, scanning his face.

he laughs lowly, his chest rumbling.

“brown?” he questions teasingly.

“yep.” you grin, pecking his lips softly.

“why?”

“go look at those pretty eyes of yours in the mirror.” you retort smoothly, threading your fingers through his shower-damp strands.

“you flirting with me?”

“you bet i am.”

you twist back around, facing the view once more, moulding into his body. he kisses over your shoulder, resting his chin. you stay there content until the sun is gone and the stars twinkle.

the air in the room is thick, awkwardly silent.

he stands leaning against the desk, opposite where you sit on your bed. the lights are low in your hotel room, the imprint of your body still fresh against the mattress. you’d been crying when he knocked, eyes rimmed red, skin flushed raw.

“you just stood there.” you croak.

“love, i-“

“don’t call me that. please.”

hurt flashes across his features, but like he knows it’s not fair of him to complain, he buries it immediately.

“i just… will you hear me out?” oscar pleads quietly.

you nod feebly.

“it’s impossible. this, us. i wanted to go to you but i- i couldn’t, i didn’t know how that would look and i didn’t want to jeopardise this.”

“but you did.” you whisper. his face shatters, falling fast.

“no, no, i can be there when you need me-“

“but you weren’t!” you cry, your body physically sinking, your shoulders drooping.

“i can fix this, i will.”

“i think we need to stop this, osc. it’s too painful for me. i’ve tried to move past the hurt but after today…” your voice shakes and you crumble, the first tear falling.

“i’m not trying to hurt you.” he crosses the space between you in two rushed steps, collapsing to his knees before you.

“that’s not good enough.” you bite back. “i’m not going to be some guys dirty little secret. i won’t do it anymore oscar.”

“i was trying to protect you… this.” he gestures between you desperately

“i know, oscar. i know! but i never asked you to do that. i can’t love you in a hotel room for the rest of my life.” the words slip from your tongue, abrasive and messy, before your brain can catch up.

you grimace, biting your tongue, but oscar’s reaction couldn’t be further from your own. his watery eyes widen, pink lips pulling into a boyish grin.

“i don’t want to love you in a hotel room for the rest of my life either.” oscar whispers, tentatively taking your hands. you stare down at your slowly intertwining fingers, a familiar warmth oozing through your body. “i wanna love you everywhere.”

“show me.” you murmur through shaky breath.

“i will.” he leans in, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. “for as long as you let me, i will.”

“just come here.” your fingers find the hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him into a kiss, one born of frustration, and longing, and a year of late night talking about everything except how much you love each other.

oscar pushes you back onto the bed, crawling over you, starving. you pull him flush against you, leaving no room between your bodies. you crave the feel of his entire weight pressing you into the mattress and as he does, you feel at home. when you pull apart, catching your breaths, he says it properly, for the first time, and the world gets lighter.

“i love you.” oscar cups your jaw, those chocolate eyes boring into yours, the intensity of it knocking you for six. “always.” he adds.

the meaning of the word changes. always doesn’t mean a shameful, taboo secret anymore. life is breathed into the six lettered word; always means you and him, together, finally out of the shadows.

“i love you, osc.” you whisper.

he’s smiling when he kisses you again, unbuttoning your blouse like he’ll die if he doesn’t get the offending item off of your frame. you retaliate by shoving his t-shirt up his back, tugging greedily at it to strip him bare. the material comes off easily and as he sits up to throw it away, you shrug off your blouse and it meets his shirt on the floor. his hands smooth over your curves, brushing the pudge of your belly as he finds the zip of your skirt, ruining the fasten in his state of haste. you barely notice the way he’s ruined the item of clothing, urgently unbuttoning his jeans. your underwear is gone too, nothing separating you but your bra, restless hands on heated skin.

“we need to be quiet.” you breathe. “lando’s next door.” oscar giggles, tinged pink.

“get on top, love.” he drawls, flipping onto his back and taking you with him.

he sits up with you in his lap, nothing anchoring either of you in the middle of the bed. the imprint of your devastated form is gone, replaced by the shape of him. you can feel the head of his cock nudging through your folds, slicking him up so that he can slide nice and deep. he trails his fingers between your legs, thumbing at your clit in deft circles, just the way he knows you like it. you’re mewling in his lap, grinding down on the pad of his thumb; it’s so good but it’s not enough.

“please, osc.” you pant, urging him to let you sink down on his cock. you can see how red it is, feel the way it throbs for you, and the need to be full of him is almost paralysing.

“come on, pretty girl. fill yourself up.” oscar mutters against the shell of your ear.

he kisses down your throat as you slide down on him, dropping your hips firm against his.

“fuck.” you cry, your forehead falling against his shoulder.

“you okay, sweetheart? feel so good for me.” oscar coos, his fingertips digging hard into your hips.

“so good, baby.” your head rolls back, feeling him hit that spot tucked away within your walls.

your breaths mingle, your breasts flush against his chest, and as if he realises that he never stripped you of your pesky bra, he grunts, unclasping the black lace and flinging it somewhere far away. he gently mumbles an awestruck “fuck”, as if he hasn’t seen your tits a million and one times before, and latches onto your nipple. his tongue works in slow circles, matching the pace of your hips working languidly on his cock, and you keen further into his body.

“prettiest girl for me.” oscar grits out, his eyes squeezing shut when you clamp down on him, hard.

you’re both trying so hard to be quiet, overwhelmed by touch and taste, love. you’re growing tired, hurtling towards a desperate release, and oscar can sense it, the feel of your quivering thighs tightening around his hips spurring him on. he grinds up into you, maintaining your pace, but he’s fucking you harder now, the anticipation of your release sending shivers down his spine.

“you gonna cum for me?” oscar grunts, holding your hips down against him. you can’t move, his hold too tight and your body too tired, all you can do is wait for your orgasm to hit like a ton of bricks. you nod frantically.

“yes, oscar, please baby.” you beg for it, and like the true gentleman he is, the calloused pad of his pointer finger finds its home on your clit, sending you into an upwards spiral.

it’s as if you’re levitating when you let go, in a dreamlike state, your teeth sinking hard into his pale shoulder to muffle a surefire whine of his name. he’s rutting into you, prolonging the bliss.

“cum inside of me.” you urge, voice barely above a whisper. well, you’ve certainly never done this before.

oscar’s eyes roll into the back of his head, tears pricking his lash line. a guttural gasp of your name spills from his lips when he lets go, painting your insides warm and white. you stare at the tiny indents your teeth had left on his thick shoulder, his breath hitting the crook of your neck warm and wet as he comes down.

“‘m yours, and i’m here. i’m always gonna be here, i promise.” oscar speaks so quietly that you wonder if you’ve imagined it.

“when i made that mistake today, i was thinking about you.”

you’ve been laying there in silence for a while now, tucked under his arm when he speaks. you turn to look at him, perplexed.

“what?”

“i felt so awful about what i said after we, you know. you looked so upset with me, and i don’t blame you.” oscar sighs.

“i just don’t want to feel like a shameful secret, osc.” you tell him quietly, the words heavy on your tongue.

“you won’t, not anymore. ‘m so sorry, sweetheart.” he lulls, kissing over your hairline.

“how do we make this work? and how are we ever gonna explain this to-“

“lando.” oscar cuts you off, shifting uncomfortable. “he’s going to murder me and my entire bloodline.” he chuckles nervously.

“he won’t murder you. he might put you in a gravel trap, though.” you roll onto your side, smiling teasingly up at him and he rolls his eyes.

“i’ll take the heat. you’re worth it.”

“promise me.” you pant, his hips grinding into you. you’re curled into his chest, still spooning and barely awake. he’d woken up needy, and you were even needier, the faint glow of early morning sunshine washing over you through a crack in the beige curtains.

“anything.” oscar stutters, his breath warm against the back of your neck. his nose bumps your skin, teeth scraping the shell of your ear.

you stop meeting his thrusts. he whines low, wordlessly pleading for you to resume. he ruts his hips against your ass, chasing friction.

“tell me it’s all gonna be different now.”

“i already told you, i-“ oscar grunts.

“promise me.” you purposely clamp down on him, a hiss sounding from between his gritted teeth.

“promise, i promise, i love you.”

you giggle, rocking your hips again, fucking yourself onto him once more.

“i know.”

“you gonna let me off the hook?” oscar pants in your ear, tugging on your earlobe with his teeth.

“still gotta prove yourself, piastri.” you moan.

he feels deeper like this and he knows it, revelling in the way he’s filled you up so perfectly. he rolls into you slowly, sliding against each and every spot that makes you squirm. you drop your guard, going limp in his arms to let him finish you off.

“you nearly there, sweetheart? you gonna cum for me, love?” his accents thickens in the mornings, husky and intoxicating. you fall apart, then, and he stays buried inside of you, the only sounds in the room your matching heavy breathing.

“i need you to get dressed.” oscar kisses your cheek.

“kicking me out already?” you feign offence, looking at him over your shoulder.

his fingers come to cup your chin, his forehead resting against yours.

“there’s something we gotta do.”

you’re wearing your skirt from the day before, the waistband rolled over to make up for the oscar-destroyed zipper. his hoodie that you’ve stolen almost completely covers the short skirt, and your messy hair and poorly removed makeup don’t do much to convince anyone that you’d actually slept in your own room last night.

still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you don’t really comprehend where oscar is leading you, but when the elevator dings, signalling that you’ve reached the restaurant floor, you’re suddenly painfully awake. time seems to move in slow motion, your tummy twisting as you realise what’s about to happen.

ahead of you, tucked into the corner of the restaurant is your brother, jon, and ashley. lando is already draped in team kit, the papaya of his hoodie blaring obnoxiously for once, a warning sign.

“oscar, what-“

“i’m doing this.” he affirms, speeding up his stride.

oh my god oh my god oh my fucking god.

your heart speeds up, dropping to the pit in your belly when lando notices you, eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched, eyes taking in the bewildering sight before him. his baby sister, disheveled and wide-eyed, and his teammate holding her hand, on a mission.

“what the fuck am i looking at?” lando doesn’t sound angry, per say, more perplexed than anything. there is an edge to his voice that you don’t particularly like, but he hasn’t started swinging yet, you suppose.

“i’m in love with your sister. like, for real. you deserve to know that.” oscar says confidently, somewhat monotonously.

lando opens his mouth, closes it. opens it again, closes it. he repeats the process a few more times, going through the motions of an emotional rollercoaster.

but then, he sighs deeply, a grin of disbelief stretching across his face. jon bangs on the table excitedly, and ash is shaking his head.

“you owe us so much money.” jon laughs, his head tipping back.

“pay up, boss.” ash sticks his hand out expectantly, smirking across the table.

“what… what?” you exclaim, narrowing your eyes in confusion.

“i didn’t wanna believe them.” lando shrugs.

“don’t blame you.” oscar chimes in, and you stare between the two mclaren drivers in bewilderment.

“are you okay with this?” you question, staring your brother in the eyes, still a bit disoriented by the entire situation. his face softens, a genuine smile lingering small on his lips.

“if you’re happy, i’ll make my peace with it.” lando’s eyes flit between you and oscar.

all of the sudden, a look of horror crosses his face, and his voice turns stern.

“but,” he inhales shakily. “if i ever, ever, hear again what i think i heard last night,” he glares at oscar, pointing one firm finger at the australian, who stands up a bit straighter. “you’re dead, piastri.”

jon and ash bite back giggles at the empty threat, and you take it upon yourself to put an end to the situation before it gets any more awkward.

“well, on that note!” you sing-song, dragging oscar away.

“and make sure you’re using protection!” lando calls out, panic stricken, big brother mode activated.

“oh my god.” you blush dark pink, speeding up, the elevator in your sights.

“that went well.” oscar quips sarcastically. he looks rather happy with himself.

you kiss him as soon as the metal doors shut.

you do go out after the race, but for once it’s not to drink away the memories of a weekend in oscar’s arms. this time, it’s to celebrate the fact that you can love him out loud, and he’ll do the same right back.

you’re dancing in his arms, bright lights in shades of blues and purples streaming over your bodies. oscar holds you close, keeps you wrapped in his arms, despite the shock on the faces of others at the sight of lando norris’s baby sister publicly besotted with his teammate.

when oscar kisses you deep, smiling against your lips that taste like cherry liquor, you know that this last year of your life wasn’t in vain.

you and oscar, you’re built to last.

“how did you not see it, mate?” charles beams, crinkles by his eyes from the wide smile he’s sporting. he’s clearly drunk, but lando is too.

it appears he’s clocked the brits sister and her australian suitor on the dance floor.

the monagasque has rocked up to the bar with alex and pierre in tow, the three of them slapping lando on the back as they arrive.

“i guess there were signs.” lando shrugs, dragging his finger over the rim of the crystal glass.

“signs? mate it was obvious.” pierre chuckles, pushing lando’s shoulder.

“wait, you all knew?” lando splutters.

yeah. duh. come on, man.

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“it’s funnier.” charles… winks? it’s hard to tell with him.

lando finds you in the crowd, grinning up at oscar like he hung the stars in the sky. the younger mclaren driver returns your look, and it sparks warmth in lando’s chest.

you’re gonna be okay.

hehe

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne

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ram-bles · 13 days ago

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HELLOOOO

I got a silly little ask, just a drabble from you would be fine 😁

Like- the reader (gender neutral) wasn't very open about their hobbies and such. One of their hobbies was like martial arts or smth (THIS IS VERY CRUCIAL ☝️☝️☝️)

Wellll, one day Jimmy (🤮) decided to try and touch the reader inappropriately and they just throw him over their shoulder saying something along the lines of "Do NOT touch me."

I KNOW IT'S CRINGE BUT PLEASEEEE, IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY 🙏🙏🙏🙏

I saw you're writing for only Curly and Daisuke, but if you wanna you can add other characters into the mix. It's all platonic, just a silly little ask cuz I wanna laugh 😁😁😁

[ Tulpar Crew & Reader ]

Oh I love this one. Also this reminded me to update my list thank u 4 unintentionally reminding me anon.,.,. ALSO DONT WORRY I DONT THINK IT'S CRINGE !

gender neutral reader, it gets silly later on i promise. not proof-read. wrote this really quick.

⚠️ tw: stalking, jimmy being a little too forward and close

The day was pretty much mundane, like always. Everyone was in their designated work stations, including you of course. Though, something felt off. It had been like this for the past week, and you hated it. You even blamed your lack of sleep for it. It seemed like there was something— someone, watching and following you when you were alone.

One time, you'd even woken up to the sound of your quarter's door closing. You stayed up all night, not wanting to inconvenience the other crew members for what you think might just be all in your head. Well, that is until psych evaluation day came and you opened up about this to Anya who so easily believed you, but seemed so uncomfortable with the topic. You decided not to pry out of respect. She offers her company when you need it.

That same night, Daisuke offered to host a game session to which everyone reluctantly agreed to.

Establishing good bonds between workers is key to an efficient working environment!

Anya, Swansea and Daisuke were sitting by the sofa, Curly dragged a chair just beside the game table, whilst you and Jimmy sat beside each other on the floor. The game involved four players and the crew decided that whoever loses first has to swap with whoever hasn't played yet for the next rounds. The game was getting heated, Daisuke and Anya, neck on neck. Unfortunately, not the only thing neck on neck. Everyone else was too focused on the game to even notice what Jimmy was doing. You can feel his breath against your skin. You eyed the others in hopes that they would see. Too busy. Annoyed and grossed out, you elbowed his ribs in warning, glaring at him. "Jimmy, don't touch me." He seems pissed, but that doesn't deter him from getting his entertainment. Jimmy presses on and you swear you felt your eyebrows twitch. The balls of this guy to even do this here.

Daisuke throws the dice, the three leans in in anticipation as they watch it slowly roll to a stop and—

CRASH!

Some game pieces flew in different directions, two table legs snapping from the force and Jimmy's weight. It was radio silent for a moment. The crew having different variations of shocked expressions. You had grabbed his arm and flipped his body onto the furniture.

"Fuckin' pervert. Are you deaf, or what? I said do NOT touch me."

Daisuke threw his hands up in the air and settled it on each side of his head, frustrated. "Oh, come on, man! I was so close to winni—!" His whining ceases when Swansea nudges him, instantly shutting up and processing what had just happened. It took a few blinks for him to register and he eventually bursts out laughing and pointing at Jimmy. It took everything from Swansea not to burst out laughing as well. Instead, he crosses his arms and huffs with a proud smile. 'Atta' kid.'

Anya on the other hand slips out a gasp, covering her mouth. Mostly out of shock, and no sympathy for the man whatsoever. When the other intern started laughing, she had to bite her lip and look away to suppress her own fit.

[ History of glenohumeral joint subluxation.

It happened way too fast for Jimmy to even process what just happened. He spits out something hard, probably a tooth. His shoulder slightly stings as well, probably dislocated. He'll get back at you some other time, he can't get back at you when everyone else is here and that pisses him off even more.

Curly had mixed feelings. But of course, he prioritizes his role and he has to mediate everything first and foremost. Rubbing his face, he sighs and stands up, putting his hands on his hips. He calls your name and you tilted your head to look up at him. "I have to discuss... this with you later on. Please drop by the cockpit, yeah?" You roll your eyes and nod, pouting. "Swansea, could we borrow your intern real quick?"

"Shift's over, go ahead."

He gives the eldest a nod. "Daisuke, please assist Anya. Help her bring Jimmy to medical."

"Youuuuu got it, Big C." He finger guns towards the captain then stands up to hover over the co-pilot. Curly could only give Daisuke an awkward smile at the nickname.

"Never call him that again."

"El Capitano." Daisuke helps Jimmy up, making sure he's pulling them up by the injured arm, making the man grit his teeth and groan in pain. Before the guy could even cuss at the intern, Swansea continued bickering.

"Do your damn job."

"Yessir. Swansir."

Anya and Daisuke finally went off the bring the poor injured co-pilot to treat him. And if you'd like to know, Anya taught Daisuke how to pull Jimmy's shoulder back to place. Yes, everyone heard him when it happened.

You helped Swansea clean up the mess by the lounge and in apology, offered to help repair the table the next day. He agrees and even offers Daisuke to assist you.

Curly had to lightly reprimand you for your actions, but you'd explained to him what happened. The best he could do for you for now is lie on the report.

Sustained through occupational accident.

Employee confirmed inebriated while working.

Property damage docked to Jimmy.]

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 9 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat/742399552248840192

To answer your question as to who mari would be in this I raise you two options: if you were to make a sashisu x reader omori au (including nanami and haibara) reader could either be mari OR…. reader could be basil…bc imagine the survivors guilt😭😭

ANON????????? YOU’RE LITERALLY INSANE?????? YOU CAN’TTTTTTT DROP SUCH A BIGBRAINED CONCEPT IN MY ASK BOX AND EXPECT ME TO BE FINE 😭😭😭😭😭

no because this ask has been haunting me since i saw it ………. the potential here………… we’re gonna have to Discuss this. in depth. anon take my hand 🤲 hold it tight so we don’t lose each other in the brain rot

first of all SASHISU X READER OMORI AU ARE YOU INSANE??????? THAT’S SOOOO GOOD WHAT….. u little genius why do i lowkey wanna write this now 😞

okay so . this is just me spitballing …. but …… what if. omori!shoko… kel!haibara……. basil!gojo….. aubrey!nanami and hero!sugu🤔🤔🤔 what do we think anon. honestly i just got kind of attached to shoko being omori but i could see sugu taking that role too !! still, he reminds me a lot of hero :(( the guilt he feels…. all that leftover love for mari that he tries to turn into something good by becoming a doctor…..,,,, the way he returns to keep the group stable. it just makes sense to me!! i feel like he would bear the most guilt over reader’s death, blaming himself for not noticing anything… :(( he absolutely hasn’t moved past it but he’s trying so hard to keep himself intact.

and honestly nanami and haibara are kinda self-explanatory… haibara is Literally kel and emo nana reminds me a lot of aubrey !! i could see him being so attached to reader as a child and just being so angry over it all yk???? lashing out at everyone. he loved them so dearly and saw them as an older sibling and he can’t stand the idea of moving on from any of it.

and ohhhhh basil!gojo…….. he’s so. so so so guilty. so terrified of everyone leaving him. this is one i’m a lil unsure abt but i can still see it yk??? him and shoko bearing all this silent guilt, keeping it from suguru…… gojo being so attached to you but choosing to bear the guilt along with shoko… because he’s The Strongest and he couldn’t let her bear that kind of sin alone . DO WE SEE THE VISION……….,

ok but alternatively….., sugu is omori and shoko is hero 👀👀👀👀 sugu who shuts himself away from the guilt …… represses it ………. gojo who bears the sin of reader’s death along with him. because they’re best friends who share everything. and shoko being the glue that keeps them together in a way… that shows up when things get ugly…. hero being a doctor is also so fitting. and her silent suffering over reader’s death that she doesn’t let anyone see……,.,,,, shoko/reader canon idc

and then obv the final confrontation between sugu and gojo……, sugu and himself…….. ”you loved her and you killed her.” I FEEL ILLLLLL tbh this version feels so much more fitting 😭😭😭 omori!shoko still has a special place in my heart tho. but just imagine the final battle between sugu and gojo… letting go of their guilt when they see each other in the hospital ….., sighhhhh. this au makes me so emotional T_T

#ANON TYSM FOR THE FOOD BELOVED #if u have any more thoughts ur always welcome to share !!! <333 #this au … this au …… sigh. sigh sigh sigh #omori is so fucking GOOD i wish omocat wasnt weird 😭😭😭 cant even love this game in peace bc of them smh #but no this is genuinely genius anon u need to get a prize for this #i am kissing ur beautiful brain #omori!sugu/basil!gojo is so real to me #AND READER BEING MARI HHHHH anon i owe u everything …..#i hope ur having a wonderful day / night <3333 #ask tag ✩

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squinch-depraved · 2 months ago

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idea: schlatt and you trying some special sex chocolate and accidentally take way more than you mean to and the effects r starting to take place 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

-🐏 anon

oh this is yuMMy. delicious. scrumptious, even. thank u to 🐏 anon for being my first ever ask ily mwah i hope this is good i've never used these chocolates before but i might have to 🫣

coming home from a long day to your boyfriend's empty apartment was not what you were hoping for. you were hoping to come home to him watching something on the tv, rotting on the couch in his usual comfy clothes, playing with his two sweet cats, and just waiting for you to get home. in your mind, he would have sprung up to greet you the second the door opened, gliding through the apartment to place a tender kiss on your lips as he picks you up and twirls you around. but the unnerving silence you actually did come home to rips you from your daydream before he can place you back down on the ground and gush about how much he missed you. the cats finally skitter up to you, meowing and trilling in a way that lets you know they're absolutely starved for attention (he's been gone maybe 20 minutes, probably). cooing at the sweet babies as they butt their heads into your legs, you pet them and settle in for the night.

after having changed into one of his shirts and deciding pants weren't worth the effort, you stumble into the kitchen to grab a snack. lucky you, your perfect boyfriend had left a plain gold box of 12 wrapped chocolates on the counter! no labels, other than a little logo in the corner, but a small note was stuck onto the top of the box, reading: "take ONE - be back soon toots" along with a heart. you sigh contentedly and tear into the box. you hadn't had much time to eat today, and you were sure your boyfriend who loved to spoil you would be fine with you having more than the allotted amount of mysterious chocolates. what's the worst that could happen, they're edibles? at least then you'll have a story to contend with ted's!

the first chocolate melts on your tongue, leaving an almost rosy flavor behind that you can't quite get enough of. you debate if this'll be worth the punishment, but the chocolate was impossibly good, so you decide to go in for one two three more before dancing yourself down the hallway and into your shared bedroom. feeling slightly warm, you lay down in the middle of your bed and put some random video on the tv, dozing off a few minutes later. your job was exhausting, he'll get the hint you're sleeping and come find you when he gets home to a silent apartment. see how he likes it.

but he doesn't come home to a silent apartment. whimpers and moans bounce off the walls, echoing down the hall from your bedroom's open door. his eyes immediately dart to the little gold box on the counter, eyebrows shooting up in an oh, fuck motion when he sees the four wrappers littering the surface. he quickly drops his stuff where it needs to go and pops two chocolates in his mouth himself, figuring he'll need help keeping up with you after how many you've had, before quickly walking to the bedroom. the sight that awaits him leaves him standing in the doorway for a while until he finally decides to wake you up.

you lay there, babbling in your sleep, random phrases about how good something feels and how close you were. mostly incoherent horny gibberish. your (his) shirt has ridden up a bit, panties visible and soaked as you writhe unconsciously, desperately trying to get friction from a pillow, the blanket, something, anything. it makes him smirk, and he watches you for a moment before sitting down and gently stroking your cheek.

"y/n," you hear. "doll, c'mon, i gotta take care of you." you slowly come to, and once you process that he's here, he's back, you jump him. pulling him down to kiss you before attacking his neck with little nibbles until he pulls away, a stern (yet amused) look on his face. "i told you one. ONE. piece of chocolate."

you hide your face in your hands. "what the fuck did you do to me, j?? i thought maybe they were edibles or something, but this doesn't feel like a normal high? i'm sorry, i know i shouldn't have eaten them now but oh my god, what did you DO to me? i feel like a feral, ovulating, cavewoman or some shit!!" you whine, earning a laugh from him.

"they're sex chocolates."

you move your hands and look at him. "sex chocolates," you repeat.

he nods.

"why the fuck wouldn't you say that??" you smack his arm.

he grins and replies, "thought the mystery would be sexy."

"i mean, inadvertently, yeah!" you sigh, amused and frustrated all at the same time.

he strokes your hair and kisses your forehead. "i took two to keep up with you," he breathes into your ear.

you hook your legs around him and pull him as close to you as you can. "then let's go! c'mon, c'mon, c'mon," you pant as you grind up against him, groans spilling from his lips. "fuck me! touch me! something, j, please, i'm begging you," you plead, kissing him frantically all over his chest and neck. hands exploring under his sweater and dragging nails down his back, arching your back and moaning without him having to even do anything, he swears he's never been this hard.

the first time you cum, it's from his head between your thighs, tongue lapping at your clit and sopping pussy like a man deprived of water for days. he keeps going until you're crying, begging him for another kind of stimulation besides his thick fingers ramming in and out of you and his chops brushing against your purple-marked thighs. the second time you cum is also from his masterful mouth, and this time he listens when you say you can't take it anymore. he drags himself up to look at you, kisses you in a way that leaves you breathless, and slowly pushes himself into you as you whine and squirm.

round one, he starts gentle, slowly working his way up to a medium pace, where he starts fondling your chest. once he really gets going, though, he's spitting on you, choking you, and rubbing your clit with his thumb all while pounding into you at an incredible pace. "so good for me, toots," he growls, fucking into you almost inhumanely now. all you can manage is a whimper. you cum once more before he pulls out and makes you suck him off til he finishes, grabbing your hair and guiding you up and down, and then really far down before cumming down your throat.

ten minutes of making out later and round two starts with him shoving you down, hands and knees, so he can shove himself into you from behind. something about the recoil of your ass makes his brain short circuit. he brings his hand around to your clit again and it's not long before you're screaming that you're about to cum again, and he smacks your ass so hard you know it's going to leave a mark and says, "fuckin' cum for me, you stupid slut. can't listen to directions but i bet you'll follow that one, huh?" through gritted teeth. you cry out and collapse as your fourth orgasm rips through you. he holds you up long enough for him to somehow speed up before filling you up with his pearlescent seed.

you both lay there for a second before he kisses the back of your head and pulls out, leaving to go get you some water and then help you to the bathroom. you make a mental note to always eat more than one of those chocolates and sigh, finally feeling satisfied.

#chuckle sandwich #jschlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt #x reader #jschlatt smut #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #schlatt x y/n #🐏 anon

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chelseeebe · 4 months ago

Text

jinx

18+ mdni. no smut but eddie is a grade a asshole to poor reader. mentions of weed and alcohol throughout. eddie munson x fem reader.

a/n: first off, anon i am sooo sooooo sorry it has taken me this long to fulfill your request!! i absolutely loved this request and am absolutely honoured that you came to me for it<33 i hope i've done it justice and that you still care to read this:') side note, i've updated my masterlist as i have slacked a bit but everything should be on there now ^.^

love me some chelseeebe angst—imagine fuckboy!eddie plays at the hideout right like regularly. reader starts frequenting his show days bc she likes him obviously but he starts noticing something. every time she comes in, something goes wrong. either he messes up a chord or cant see to flirt properly therefore no one ends up warming his bed as of late or something of the sort

his immediate first thought is ‘she’s a jinx!!!’ bc what other explanation could there be in his boy brain??? so he asks her to stop coming in. she does and yet he continues to mess up bc all he can think abt is her.

itd be so sexy if u added a moment of realization/angry love confession where in the middle of him being like you’ve bewitched me or something!!! he realizes hes the one obsessed with her.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the party hums on in the background, a small group gathered outside to rob eddie blind, smoking away his entire supply.

robin giggles nonsensically into steve’s shoulder, too high for her own good.

“if you’re gonna smoke all my shit, the least you can do is come watch us tomorrow,” eddie had been nagging his friends to come down the hideout for months. they’d gathered a solid crowd now, not much but it was a start.

robin groans, nancy and jonathan shift in their seats, steve can barely muster enough energy to reply and argyle snores. hardly enthusiastic about his dreams.

“i’ll come,” you offer, bright-eyed as you smile politely at him from the floor.

a friend of a friend, someone robin met in class and had dutifully introduced to the group. he didn’t know you well, nor had he ever really cared to.

“i don’t think you’d like it, sweetheart” eddie retorts, flattered that you’d try and spare his feelings but he didn’t need your pity.

“why? you can’t be that bad,” chuckling quietly to yourself.

his eyes narrow, scoffing, “we’re not,” misunderstanding, or maybe just not caring to humour you back, “come if you want,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not as if any of his friends had offered to attend.

“okay,” nodding along, “i will.”

“alright,” turning his attention back to the embering joint glued to argyles fingers.

who cares if you come? eddie certainly doesn’t.

sure enough, the same couple dozen old drunks fill the bar, their glossy, zombie-like eyes stare back at him from the floor. he’d complain but beggars can’t be choosers and all that.

they’re partway through the second song when something reflects in his eye, a low-cut sequinned top that would definitely look better on the floor of his van.

it’s only when his eyes travel up that he realises it’s you who’s wearing that shirt, already looking straight back at him. a newfound look about you, thick lines of black line your eyes, worlds apart from the mousy girl who’d invited herself last night.

“and we’re-,” he sings, an abrupt case of dry mouth as the next line struggles to come out, “we’re.. uh,” the entire song erased from his memory within seconds.

he steps back from the mic, blinking rapidly in an attempt to trigger his voice though all he can see is you and that ridiculous top.

gareth’s head whips round, still strumming along before picking up eddie’s slack, continuing the lyrics on his own, not without a damning glare in eddie’s direction.

holy fuck.

he’s just, taken aback, that’s all. shocked that you’d even bother to come, less so put the effort in to actually look the part too.

his eyes don’t leave the back wall for the rest of the gig, practically stumbling through all of the songs as his head threatens to wander. trailing back to you only as they finish, walking off stage to down the harshest whisky the bar would allow.

you saunter over a couple minutes later, while eddie tries his hardest not to stare right down your shirt. he’s not certain that he won’t choke on his words if you speak to him.

“you were really good tonight,” you assure, smiling softly as his band mate turns to gawp.

“uh, yeah.. thanks,” eddie fumbles, gripping the neck of his beer bottle, “thanks for coming.”

there’s an aura surrounding you, like a wretched spell you’d evoked in him, turning him to a bumbling fool.

“i’m gonna head out..” gesturing to the door, “see you around,” waving your fingers coyly at him before disappearing.

his eyes linger at the door, wondering if maybe you’ll turn around and come back. not that he wants that. just curious as to why you’d come out just to see him play.

“now who the hell was that?” jeff ogles, receiving a swift elbow to the ribs from eddie and a loud oof as he clutches his side.

“a friend of a friend,” brushing him off, “don’t be weird about it,” jumping the gun to squash any sorts of ideas festering in his mind.

“you’re the only one being weird about it,” jeff retorts, grabbing his beer and shuffling off.

“i’m not being weird,” eddie calls from behind, “i’m not!”

okay maybe he was being a little weird.

who cares?

definitely not eddie.

this week, he feels more prepared to see you nodding along in the crowd, robin had joined you albeit looking less than impressed.

eddie’s killing it, at least he thinks. avoiding looking anywhere in your direction, keeping his gaze on the stumbling drunk at the back instead.

but the thoughts of you can’t help but creep into his mind, were you enjoying it? do you think he’s bad? why does he even care so much?

his hand slides down the neck of the guitar, playing the wrong chord entirely, his fingers curating a mind of their own.

fuck fuck fuck.

why does this keep happening?

gareth glares at him again, he had never been so frustrated with his idiot bandmate in his life. sure eddie liked to dick around in rehearsal but never on stage.

if eddie ever wanted a career in music, he needed to get a monumental grip on himself. weird girls he barely knew should not have the capacity to ruin his career.

after they clamber off stage, eddie makes a point of not going over to the two of you. no, you can come to him.

though he wishes you’d just be a little faster at it if he’s honest. too busy squished into a booth with one of the younger regulars to care about him.

heat rises in his chest, searing his cheeks a bright rouge, “-who is that?” gareth interrupts, bumping into his arm.

“who’s who?” eddie coughs, clearing his throat as his eyes snap back.

“that girl you’ve been staring at,” peering across the room to get a glimpse.

“i’m not staring at anyone,” abruptly turning his head in the opposite direction, proving to himself that he wasn’t staring, not really.

“you’re a liar,” gareth calls him on his bullshit immediately, “go talk to her! she’s hot,” scooting his friend along.

“no she’s not,” you looked good tonight, he’d give you that, “can everyone please just stop being weird about this? first jeff- now you? honestly, i don’t get it,” working himself into a frenzy over what really was nothing.

gareth’s eyes widen, scoffing at his melodramatic performance, “alright man.. calm down,” shaking his head in mild disgust.

eddie was totally calm, you know, apart from his heart pounding in his chest.

nothing major.

filthy, downright pornographic sounds fill his cramped van, certain that it was rocking side to side with the utter obscenity happening in the back.

chloe sits atop of his lap, tongues dancing around one another as she glides her hips back and forth. she was a regular, slightly older than eddie, at least he thinks, they’d made eyes a few times but only tonight had he gathered the courage to go and speak to her.

any other time, eddie would be rock solid, pinning her down and fucking her into the dusty floor. today, it’s just not happening.

his mind elsewhere, too preoccupied with nonsense to appreciate the opportunity at hand.

he's thinking about you and the fact you’d left the bar without ever coming over to him tonight. what the fuck was that about?

had he done something wrong?

he breaks apart from her mouth, heaving into the tiny gap between them, “i don’t know what’s going on..” he chuckles awkwardly, looking down at his useless dick, “normally something happens by now..”

she frowns, deep-set, showing her age more than before, “oh.”

he reaches down, furiously palming his cock through his jeans.

nothing. not even a twitch.

he wants to curl up and die. never in his three years of actually getting laid has this ever happened. eddie got hard at the drop of a pin, he’d only have to think about boobs and his jeans would shift.

so why the fuck wasn’t it working tonight?

“i’m gonna go,” chloe scowls, clambering over his legs, gathering her bag while not even attempting to hide her disappointment.

eddie shoots up, pathetically crawling after her, desperate not to let her go.

“it’s not me!” he screams out, watching helplessly as she crawls out of the van, “it’s you!”

no.

“wait no! shit, that’s not what i meant,” peeking out of the van to find the empty parking lot, zero women to be found, “fuck sake.”

left to wallow in his self-pity, alone, in the back of his dirty van.

just as he deserved.

if this was some karmic intervention, telling him to be a better person, he certainly wasn’t paying it any attention.

another party meant another night of eddie trying to understand why the hell you had such an effect on him.

it’s not even like you’re doing anything particularly riveting, sat with your drink in hand, nodding along to robin’s story.

he can’t stand it.

you have to go.

maybe not like that, but he had to put some distance between you. there’s no way he could keep his sanity while you were still a constant in his life.

eddie sidles over, feeling like the smartest guy in the room. he could do this, separate himself from you and your clutches and go back to playing as he once did.

you smile upon him appearing, sickly and sweet. it makes his heart thump in the weirdest way.

“oh.. hey,” playing this entirely nonchalantly, “i just thought i’d let you know that we’re not playing next week,” lying through his teeth, guilt ridden but really, it was necessary if he wanted to play a gig without fucking up the entire time.

“oh,” sounding somewhat disappointed, “okay.. how come?”

shit.

he can’t think of a single valid reason as to why they wouldn’t be playing.

“jeff’s sick.. real bad,” feeling even more guilty for lying about his friends health, wondering if he’s cursing jeff as you did him, “might even be a couple weeks off at this point.”

eddie was a terrible person.

but so were you.

bewitching him under some spell, forcing him to play terribly and embarrass himself in front of women

you’ve jinxed him. a bad omen cursing him to play like a fucking amateur. that’s the only logical explanation his pea brain can conjure up anyway.

that meant you had to stay away from the shows, from him preferably.

he couldn’t understand why you have this effect on him, why your mere presence has him becoming a floundering fool. you don’t intimidate him, not even close.

it’s almost as if he cares too much about what you think, to the extent that he overthinks it so hard that he fucks up.

a curse that could only be broken with some distance between you. that way he could focus on the show instead of you and your doe eyes reflecting off of the stage lights.

that’s what he’s praying for anyway.

eddie despises wednesday’s. itching to get his classes over and done with so he can get his small taste of stardom on that tiny hideout stage.

at some point over the last few weeks of you being an omnipotent presence in his life, he’d grown accustomed to crossing paths with you before the gig.

crossing campus with your chin tucked down, arms wrapped tight around your books. typically only sharing a smile or a short nod.

but this week you saunter over, resembling a frightened deer even more than usual.

he pulls his headphone from his ear, anticipating whatever nonsensical, vaguely cute thing you were going to say.

“hey,” he nods, a coy smile.

even now you have his palms sweating, overthinking whether he should’ve said hi or hello instead.

“you didn’t have to lie to me,” you start, brows furrowed, “it’s fine if you don’t want me to go to your gigs anymore, i don’t care,” a disappointed frown plaguing your normally cheerful face. “i thought i liked you eddie, really- but i don’t know anymore.. you’re not a good person.”

you turn to walk off before he can even compute your words.

oh shit.

“wait!” he calls but it’s useless, “i didn’t- i wasn’t- fuck.”

it was unthinkably cruel, he didn’t think you’d ever find out. and maybe that was his problem, assuming you didn’t care enough to find out.

guilt addles his chest, weighing heavy on his heart. for good reason too.

eddie was an asshole. a true, grade-a asshole that wayne would positively despise him for.

wait wait wait.

you liked him?

absolutely not. no way. that wasn’t what this was about.

or it’s not supposed to be.

no, this was some adolescent feud, a confusing, one-sided, friendship that he couldn’t get a grip on.

you didn’t like him. girls like you weren’t supposed to.

it’s not at all surprising that he plays like absolute shit tonight too.

guilt ridden for forcing your hand, for making you look at him like that. as if he were the worst person to walk the earth.

shit, maybe he was.

kind hearted people didn’t lie and deceive. no, kind hearted people came to gigs they obviously didn’t give a shit about. kind hearted people feigned interest in boring spiel about weed strains and whatever the fuck else eddie jabbered on about at parties.

you, you were kind. kinder than he deserved.

gareth slaps him harshly on the back the second they’re back behind the curtain, a scornful yet pitying scowl on his face, “look man,” he begins, “i dunno what’s going on with you but i don’t know how much longer they’re gonna let us play here if you keep playing like that.”

eddie sighs, because he knows this. he’s well aware that his performances have been lacklustre for weeks now. he just doesn’t really understand why.

at first he thought it was just because you were there, a distance friend who would feed back to his friends about how good, or bad, he was.

but that wasn’t it.

you were there, and then you weren’t. and he still played like shit.

somewhere entangled deep within his wretched heart, he thinks that maybe he just wanted to impress you.

a nice girl, cares about her studies way more than he does, pretty too and you didn’t look at him like he was just some out of touch stoner with crazy dreams of his band getting big.

you were polite, listening to his wacky stories and dreams of playing for thousands, in fact, you encouraged them, more than his friends ever had for sure.

eddie’s not sure if, or how, he’ll ever be able to make amends for how he’s treated you.

he’s making himself sick with worry. guilt wracking his brain.

you don’t turn up that night, obviously.

eddie’s eyes mindlessly search the crowd for any hint of you. his fingers failing to correspond with the rest of band, always playing a beat behind.

you had infected him, ruined his once masterful skill to just a shell of what it once was.

he doesn’t lay opportunity for the boys to speak to him again, rushing out of the bar as soon as his guitar is back in her case.

there’s only one place he can think about going.

a few months back, you’d hosted robin’s birthday party there and eddie had disgraced your bathroom with a girl he can’t even remember now.

his fist bangs on the door, hoping the light in the upstairs window was you and not one of your roommates he’d have to shamefully apologise to.

the orange light cascades over your face, peeking out from the barely cracked door with a frown that would scare any man off.

“what’re you doing?” you spit, looking backwards in hopes he hadn’t woken the entire house up.

“listen,” he sighs, “i’m real sorry about.. you know, lying to you,” his shoulders slumped over themselves, “but i just- i can’t fucking play when you’re there, can’t play when you’re not,” sounding utterly pathetic, begging for you to cure him from this sudden sickness. “i don’t know what to do anymore,” dragging his hand over his face.

rightfully earning his spot as the worlds biggest fucking loser, stood on your doorstep begging for an answer.

when he opens his eyes enough to look at you, you’re scowling back at him. nothing like how he had planned this situation in his head.

he’d hoped that miraculously you’d understand, accept his apology and somehow still feel the same as you had.

because that was it, really.

too terrified to face the fact that he liked you too.

somewhere in his heart of hearts he’d known it from the start. that’s why his heart fluttered when you’d volunteered to come or why he’d struggled to even touch anyone else.

“what do you want me to say?” shrugging, “i won’t come back, that’s fine,” he wishes you’d just follow the script he’d curated for you.

eddie doesn’t want you to stop coming, he never had. it’s killing him that you even believed that, twisting the knife in his chest further and further the more your bottom lip juts out and your eyes water.

“actually, maybe it’s best if we don’t talk anymore,” you suggest, throwing him completely off kilter.

woah.

that wasn’t at all what he wanted nor was he trying to say. he just couldn’t gather the actual words he needed to express that to you.

petrified that he’d admit to his feelings and you’d just turn around and laugh, how could someone like you ever like such a cruel man?

“wait no, that’s not what i meant-,” bargaining with you for a little time to explain himself, though you definitely didn’t owe him any.

“-thanks for coming eddie, i’ll see you around,” flashing him a crestfallen smile before abruptly closing the door in his face.

public humiliation was truly the only way eddie could think to make it up to you.

well that and maybe a little big nudge from robin.

he’d rather stupidly asked about you on saturday night, confused why you weren’t there alongside robin, who had very quickly got him in check.

“why do you think dumbass?” she snapped, snarling her teeth at him, “you were an asshole and now she’s doesn’t want to come anymore,” her glare powerful and harsh, "i'd say you were lucky she didn't punch you in the face."

he’d deserve it.

it had taken weeks of convincing to get you anywhere near the hideout again. not to mention the hundreds in free weed he’d had to bribe robin with to get her to help.

you stand in a dark corner, hands folded against your chest, puzzled and irritated by robin’s incessant begging to get you here.

“there’s someone here that i wanna apologise to,” his eyes don’t find you as easy this time, after weeks of missing your presence, he’s not used to you actually being in the crowd again, “if you know us, you know i can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, uh..” they find you, the lump only growing in his throat, “i’m sorry,” tunnel vision blocking out every other body in the room, “i’m really, really sorry.”

you blink, staring back at him like a deer caught in headlights. it makes him a little bit nauseous to recall how dreadfully he’d treated you, how you deserved absolutely none of it.

your gaze lowers, and eddie can’t decide how to take it. he wouldn’t blame you if you decided to never forgive him, but he also couldn’t take it if you didn’t.

his voice cracks a little as he speaks, “this is.. uh, we’re corroded coffin,” stepping back from the mic to gather his thoughts before the drum comes crashing in.

eddie plays the best he’s potentially ever played.

a force overcoming him to prove that he truly wasn’t as much as a loser as he’s shown himself to be.

usually, he couldn’t wait to be off that stage and to the bar but today he’s dreading it.

knowing that you’re somewhere out there waiting for an explanation.

or maybe you weren’t. he wouldn’t blame you if you’d decided to leave soon after he’d embarrassed himself with that shitty apology.

gareth runs up behind him, using his shoulders to launch himself into the air, “holy shit! that was amazing!” the boy presses a slobbery kiss to his cheek before continuing, “whatever the hell you did, keep doing it because that was insane!” running off past eddie to grab his weekly complimentary beer.

a sudden sickness fills his stomach, slyly hoping that he could slip out of here before anyone else noticed him.

you stand across the bar, waiting to catch his eye with your lips curled only ever-so-slightly.

eddie’s limbs go stiff, still entranced by your jinx. by you.

your eyes trail away to the door as his follow, shuffling your way through the bustling crowd.

his legs carry him without a second thought, out into the cool night as his eyes frantically search for you.

he finds you perched against the crumbling stone wall a few feet from the entrance, just far enough away from the prying eyes of the smoking patrons.

“i didn’t think you’d ever come back here,” is all he can say, feet trailing along the gravel.

the streetlight glistens orange from your eyes, staring up at him from your perch, “i didn’t want to,” your smile only growing as he nears, “robin made me.”

“oh,” it wasn’t as if he didn’t know that or that he didn’t orchestrated the entire thing, it just felt odd to hear it from your mouth.

“i’m glad i came,” you clarify, allowing him to finally release the breath held tight in his chest.

eddie dares to move closer, sitting back on the brick just inches away, “yeah?”

you nod, the great big smile he’d forced away making a return at last, “yeah.”

suddenly the air feels thick, it was easier apologising on stage, those people didn’t know him, they didn’t care. but now, sat here in front of you, it feels like he’s swallowing knives.

“i’m really sorry for making you feel that way,” though it sounds meaningless now the damage was done, “i don’t know if you still care about me at all, but i- um,” his throat runs dry, clamping his eyes shut. it felt easier that way, somehow, “i think the reason why i was such.. an asshole,” the light flickers through his eyelids again, deciding that you at least deserved to see him, “fuck,” he exclaims, staring back at your confused expression.

“it’s okay,” soothing even now, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” a twinge of sadness running through your tone.

“no, no i do,” eddie persists. he’d fumbled once, he couldn’t do it again. “shit man,” he sighs, “i’m trying to tell you that i like you too, or maybe not too, i know i was an ass and i don’t deserve your forgiveness-,” your lips cuts him off mid-mumble, surging forward to press them against his blathering ones.

he has to blink a couple times, taking in whatever the fuck was happening to him.

you pull back, disappointed that his brain had been to fuzzy to focus on kissing you back. too preoccupied with trying not to explode and paint you in red.

“really eddie.. it’s okay,” returning to your usual reserved self while his brain still struggles to compute.

“can we do that again?” he asks politely, keeping the bubbling excitement to a minimum.

you laugh, a real, throaty laugh, something he hadn’t heard in weeks, “only if you promise to stop talking,” leaning in once more, the rigid wall suddenly feeling like it was about to collapse from underneath him.

your soft, cherry-tinted lips press against his forehead a second time, allowing him to gather his brain from a pile of mush on the floor just enough to actually kiss you back. a tender hand reaching out to caress his stubbly cheek, sending shockwaves through his limbs.

you’re interrupted again by a loud whoop from behind, robin clapping wildly as she emerges from the bar, “now you two have kissed and made up, can we go home now?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #request #eddie munson x female reader

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ceilidho · 11 months ago

Note

big boy neighbor ghost anon here

simon "wears his food" ghost riley, who is a messy eater and has you lick up his fingers to clean them afterward. who has you lick up your own slick from the corners of his mouth after he eats you out. who eats as much as he can of everything you make him because who else is gonna make him a homemade meal?

ghost's favorite meal you make him is coq au vin because it's hearty, and he eats 3/4ths of it while you have your 1/4th of it. simon cuts your meat for you, and he also loves it when you make whisky brown butter cookies for dessert.

sorry cooking is my love language and i hold big boy hefty eater characters very close to my heart. hope u have a good day pookie wookie

just thought of Simon saying “clean me up, pet” while holding a finger to your lips and staring at you while you lick it clean and then my legs gave out and I collapsed in a heap onto the floor.

not a military au, but construction worker!ghost showing up to work with a big ass cooler full of his lunch that you prepared him the night before and when his guys asked him where he got all of that, he just goes, “my girl” before shovelling more rice into his mouth. does NOT fucking share if someone asks him for a cookie. he gets sooooo testy and mean when someone asks him to get you to make something for them.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #ghost cod #ghost/reader #ghost x reader

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hyuuukais · 5 months ago

Note

Hiii!! I saw ur requests were open but if this makes u uncomfy for any reason no worries. I was skating home from work today and kinda got scraped up pretty bad so I was wondering if you'd write a Skz reaction to reader getting hurt by skating(I was skateboarding but if you want separate scenarios you can use roller skates or ice skates too I think that would be cool) and maybe nursing reader back to health idk just something fluffy? I was kinda discouraged from skating after I got all scraped up today :/

Ps. I love ur blog and I hope you have a great day/night 🩷

-🔮(if u have emoji anons I'd like to be this one)

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SKZ SCENARIOS ⋆｡˚✴︎⋆

pairing : ot8 x reader

notes : hi !! i didn't know if you wanted texts or written, so i did a mix, i hope that's alright with you! and i actually don't have any emoji anons rn, you'd be my first, which is so exciting!! and i love love love the one you chose. i took your advice and did a variety of different types of skates :) oh! and this doesn't make me uncomfortable, little injuries/sick fics like this is okay :33

warnings : injuries (scraped knees/hands/face/arms, sprained wrist/ankle/concussion), blood mention, nausea, mentions of passing out/blacking out, reader called pet names (baby, honey, love), food mention

CHAN (wc: 561)

There's a knock on your door exactly eleven minutes later, and you trudge across your living room to open it. Chans face is etched with concern, his eyebrows furrowing deeper as he takes in the light bruising starting to appear on your cheekbone, a few red scratches from the tough asphalt accentuating the purple.

Without a word, he enters your living space and sets a small bag down on the coffee table. Chan takes some things out, then gestures you to move down the hallway to your bathroom. Suppressing a groan, you do as he says, trying not to wince every time you step. Another, much worse scrape paints your knee, stinging with every movement. By the time you're sitting on the edge of the tub, your eyes have watered in pain.

Chan kneels in front of you, looking up to into your watery eyes, but you avoid his gaze. With a soft sigh, he takes the bottle of peroxide and dampens a cloth, gently pressing it down on your bloody knee. You hiss at the contact, squeezing your eyes shut hard as he continues to pat the wound and surrounding flesh. It hurts so bad, and you swear you can feel your knee throbbing. What feels like hours is mere minutes, Chan taking the cloth away from your skin to reach for a nearby bandage. He takes care in wrapping the wound, placing a small kiss on the top of your knee once he's done.

"Now, let me see that pretty face of yours." Chan joins you on the edge of the rub, bringing a hand up to gently turn your face to his. "Doesn't look as bad as I thought, but it still needs to be cleaned... you're doing so good for me, baby."

He smiles at you, wiping a stray tear that's managed to escape from the corner of your eye. Your jaw clenches as he brings the cloth, freshly dampened in peroxide, to your skin again, patting in the same motion he did your knee. The sting isn't as bad, the cuts smaller and quicker to clean. As soon as Chan is done placing the smaller bandage on your cheekbone, he places a kiss over it. His palm comes to rest on your lower cheek and jaw, resting your foreheads together. Naturally, your eyes flutter shut as you relax under his touch, the pain and embarrassment forgotten almost completely in his presence.

"I love you," You whisper, sighing contently.

"I love you too," Chan smiles, backing his face away from yours. "How about you change into some comfy clothes and we put on that show you've been on about? Sound good?"

A smile breaks out on your face at the mention of the show, nodding excitedly at his suggestion. "We'll have to start at the beginning! I've been dying to show it to you."

He laughs, his eyes almost shutting from how wide his smile has gotten watching you grab his hand and lead him out of the bathroom. You're still talking as you change, but Chan just leans back on the bed listening, not daring to interrupt. He loves it when you're like this, gushing about your interests to your hearts content. It seems like a flip has switched from your dim mood, and Chan is glad he could do something to make you feel better.

MINHO (wc: 526)

And he does, he marches right to you despite the protests of the coaches spread on the chilled ground, one of which is making their way toward you. Slipping and sliding all the way to you, Minho makes it to your side first and tries to assess the situation.

"What happened?" Minho demands, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You've managed to sit up on your butt, feeling the cold ground seeping through your bottoms as you curl into yourself. Keeping your wrist close to your chest, you take deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Staying calm is the only way you'll get through the throbbing pain in your wrist.

The coach stops just short of you, kneeling on the opposite side of Minho. "Y/n! Are you alright? That was a really bad fall."

All you can do is shake your head, eyes unmoving from the spot between your knees. With the nausea you're feeling, the only thing keeping you from jumping to the conclusion you've broken a bone is the fact you never heard a crack.

One minute, you were gliding on the ice, acing your practice jumps and having fun. The lessons you're doing have been going on for a few months now, and you've been getting better with each one. Knowing you've always wanted to try learning to skate, Minho had paid for a full year of lessons for your birthday, and you'd almost cried when he told you.

Yet, here you are, once again close to tears for a completely different reason. You knew not to put your arms out the way you did, landing on your wrist at an odd angle. Next thing you knew, you could barely move as pain seized you and threatened to have you black out.

"Honey," Minhos voice is next to your ear, one of his hands rubbing your back soothingly. "Let me help you up, we need to go."

Hours later, you've traveled to the hospital, been seen by a doctor, and sent home with a sprained wrist. The whole way home, there's been a pout on your face, and all you want to do now is lay down in bed and cry.

Minho can tell, he always can, so when you get home he leads you in the direction of the living room. At first, you're confused, but then he kisses your forehead and brings you the first furball he can find. Soonie gets comfortable in your lap as Minho leaves the room, coming back a few minutes later with the comforter from your bed.

"I know you want to change and go to bed," He says softly into your ear, placing another kiss on your lobe with a playful nibble that makes you giggle. "I know you're embarrassed. De-stress a bit first, calm down, then I'll run you a hot bath and we can settle in for the night."

"I guess I can do that," You mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder.

"Uh-uh, you will do that." Minho pats your head, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm not leaving you with a choice."

CHANGBIN (wc:541)

It's not even ten minutes later that you spot him jogging down the street to meet you. You've scooted back into the grass to stay out of the way of other pedestrians, using your cold water bottle to soothe the scrapes on the palms of your hands. As soon as Changbin sees you, he's by your side and taking away the bottle, replacing it with his loving touch. He places a kiss on each palm, taking care to brush away the tiny pieces of ground off your skin.

Maybe it's how soft he's holding you, or just him being so quick to be with you when you're hurt, but you can feel tears well up in your eyes. The sound of your sniffles catches Changbin's attention immediately, and one of his hands is already on your face to thumb the tears away before they've even had the chance to fall.

"Bunny," Changbin coos, a pout on his face. "It's okay, you're okay. Let's get you cleaned up, how's that sound?"

You nod, letting him undo the laces of the roller skates, sliding them off your feet carefully. Thankfully, you didn't twist an ankle or anything, and you're honestly a bit surprised you didn't with the way you fell. Changbin ties the laces together, swinging them over his shoulder. Next, he helps you to your feet.

"You couldn't have brought me proper shoes to walk back in?" You joke, trying to find some humour in the situation.

"Why would I when I can do this-?" Hands hook under your legs and behind your back as he swings you into his arms bridal-style. You can't help but giggle at his antics, covering your face in embarrassment as a passer-by gives you two a look. Changbin lifts your torso close to him, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Changbin carries you like this the whole fifteen minutes back home, keeping his head up high, proud of somewhat showing you off as you go, even if that wasn't the intent of holding you like this. Even when you do arrive home, he still refuses to let you go until you're safely in your bedroom, placing you down on the plush mattress. When you go to sit up, he pushes you back down gently, shaking his head.

"Stay put, let me do this!" Changbin almost whines, and you supress another fit of giggles at his reactions. "I want to treat you."

"It's just some scraped palms-"

"Yah!" He scolds, lifting up a hand. "You're still hurt. I'm not letting you do a thing for the rest of the evening."

Rolling your eyes playfully, you watch as Changbin goes into the en suite and comes back with some alcohol wipes. He sits next to you on the bed and takes one hand in his, gently patting down the scrapes. Mostly, your hands are just red from the fall, no longer bleeding at all, but Changbin still wraps your hands just in case, placing a kiss on each one afterwards.

"Next time, wait for me, okay?" Changbin looks at you, a small pout still present on his face.

"Yeah, yeah... I will," You promise, reaching out for him. "Now come here, I want cuddles."

HYUNJIN (wc: 549)

The whole right side of your face is bright red, a pouch of ice ironically held up to the raw skin. Hyunjin's face drops as he spots you across the arena, hurrying around to get to you. Once he does, he takes the hand holding the pouch away, examining your face.

"It's not as bad as it looks, probably," You say weakly, looking him in the eye. "I haven't actually seen, so that may be a lie."

"Does it hurt a lot?" You shake your head at his question. "Does anything else hurt?"

"My shoulder, a bit," You admit, dropping your gaze. "I landed weird, but I think it'll be fine. It's definitely not broken or dislocated, just sore."

Hyunjin shakes his head, looking out at the ice where other people are still skating. In his head, the world should have stopped for you the minute your body made contact with the ice. He huffs, breath coming out in a little cloud. Turning to him, you poke his arm to gain his attention back.

"I'm fine, really," You promise, but his expression tells you he doesn't quite believe that. "Can we just... go home?"

Nodding, Hyunjin stands and offers his hand to you. Not for physical support, but emotional, walking hand in hand out of the arena. The hallways are quiet as you detour for a bathroom break before leaving.

When you enter, the first thing you notice is just how red your skin has gotten, a noticeable difference from the other half of your face, but you can't help but snort. In all honesty, you look funny. The pain is low on a scale of 1-10, so you're able to find a bit more humour in the situation than Hyunjin at the moment. Once you exit, Hyunjin immediately grasps your hand in his again, his tight grip comforting. If anything, you're more embarrassed than anything.

Getting back to your place doesn't take long, and Hyunjin makes a beeline for your bathroom as you're still taking your coat off. You take your time meeting him in there, seeing some cream set out on the counter. As soon as you walk in, Hyunjin gestures for you to sit on the edge of the tub. Carefully, he puts a few small globs of the cream on your face. It stings a little, but feels nicer as he rubs it into the sore skin. His fingers glide over the curves of your face, taking care to cover every inch of your injury. When he's done, he turns your body and begins massaging the shoulder you landed on.

"Never downplay your pain, you hear me?" Hyunjin lightly scolds, resting his chin on your head as he pauses his actions.

"I meant it when I said it didn't really hurt." You giggle when Hyunjin sighs loudly at your answer. "But I won't, I swear. Does me promising this make you feel better?"

"Honestly?" Hyunjin hums, thinking for a moment. "No, not really, because I know you."

You can hear the teasing smile in his voice, the corners of your lips twitching into your own smile. His arms come around you, gently rocking you side to side, his plush lips pressing a kiss to your temple. Just having him by your side is healing enough.

JISUNG (wc: 608)

The gasp that leaves Jisung's mouth has people around him shooting weird glances, but all he's focused on his your body lying on the cement. There are a few shouts as he runs down to your body, slipping and sliding all the way down to you. You roll onto your back to see Jisung's face right above yours, eyes widening at how quickly he'd gotten to you.

"Baby! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do we need to go to the hospit-" Jisung rambles, but you cut him off with a groan as you sit up, shaking your head, and he immediately stops talking.

You sit up cross-legged, taking a look over your limbs. With your elbows and knees protected, you've managed not to scrape anything. One of your new friends come running over as soon as she sees your on the ground, kneeling next to you on you other side.

"You okay?" She asks, looking you up and down.

"I'm fine, both of you." With some semi unnecessary help from Jisung, you stand up. "The only thing bruised here is my ego."

"Maybe we should go to the side for a second-" Jisung stops talking when the girl shoots him a look.

Noticing the way she's looking at him, you gently push her to the side and whisper something to her. She nods, giving one last look to Jisung before walking away. Taking a hold of Jisung's hand, you and him make your way back up and to your bag. He grabs it for you as you lead him over to a bench on the side.

Neither of you talk for a few minutes as you sip some water, looking out to everyone still skating, your own board sitting between your feet. It's a vibrant blue with orange accents, something Jisung picked out for you to celebrate you getting back into skating, along with the matching knee and elbow pads. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jisung fiddling with his fingers.

"I said I'm okay, you don't need to worry," You say with a soft laugh, turning your body to face him. He doesn't look at you, but he nods. "Sungie?"

"What if the board I got you is defective and that's why you fell?" Jisung looks at you briefly, glancing back to his fingers as he continues to voice his anxieties. "Or- or what if you hadn't had the pads and really got hurt?"

"Ji, look at me, please." You cup his cheek, gently making him turn; sad eyes stare back at you and your heart hurts just a bit. "None of this was because of you, and don't think of what could have happened. What matters is that I'm alright, and so are you, okay?"

He nods, and you can see a little bit of relief on his features with the small smile he gives you. You return the smile, bringing his face over to lean your foreheads together. After a moment, he pulls away just enough to place a kiss on your temple, whispering against your skin.

"You know I'd do anything for you." Jisungs hand tangles with yours, and you can feel your smile widen. "Anything, hurt or not. I'd stay by your side for a papercut."

This makes you laugh. "Remind me to text you next time I get one."

Your comment makes Jisung smile against your skin, and you back away enough to look him in the eye.

"Ready for me to go back out there?"

He nods, an embarrassed blush dusting his cheeks. "Yes, but if you do get hurt, I will be running back down there."

FELIX (wc: 851)

The two of you started the night off with some hot cocoa from a stand outside of the ice rink you were going to. Felix had been practically dying to take you out to the festival going on during the week once you both had a little time off, especially knowing your love for skating. Although the rink is small, he knew you'd love it anyway.

Now you're sitting on the side, sliding your shoes off and the skates on. The rentals fit a little loosely from all the usage, but still well enough once you tighten the laces. You help Felix with the fit of his, and all he can do is stare at you lovingly as you do this small act of service for him.

Holding hands, you lap around the ice smoothly a few times before slowing down. Neither of you really want to get off the ice yet, but you're legs are beginning to burn from the constant activity. There's a food truck of to the side, so you agree to take a break to eat and rest before continuing. You make a beeline for it on the other side of the rink, opting to go straight through rather than take your skates off early and walk around.

It's sudden, and you barely register you're falling until you've rolled off to the side. Pain radiates from your ankle, and Felix is by your side in an instant. When you look down to assess the damage, you notice your shoelace has become untied on one skate and is probably the cause of the fall. You frown; after all the years of skating, you know how to tie your laces tight enough. The one night you decide to use rentals, and you fall on your ass.

"Can you stand?" Felix asks, concern written all over his face.

You nod, letting him help you up. As soon as you put pressure on your right foot, your knees are buckling and you can't help but yelp in pain. Felix catches you, holding you tightly so you don't fall again.

"Love?" Felix holds you back a little, guiding you to sit down; thankfully, you were pretty much at the other side of the rink already. "Let me see... oh."

He pulls the skate off, along with your sock, to reveal the red, angry skin of your ankle, already beginning to swell slightly. Felix shakes his head, gently pushing your sock back up. You hiss in pain as his fingers brush the skin, an he looks up at you with worried eyes.

"We need to get you checked out, this looks bad." Felix takes your other skate off. "I'll be right back."

You watch him skate back to the other side to retrieve your belongings, manoeuvring through the crowds of people on the ice swiftly. When he returns, he helps you slip your left boot on, leaving the right one off just in case. People around you have barely even noticed the way you limp off the ice, Felix holding your right side to help take off the pressure. It doesn't take long for Felix to drive to the hospital from the rink. Despite the cold air, all you can focus on is the uncomfortable warmth from your ankle.

Entering your house with a groan, you hop stubbornly to your couch, covering your red face in embarrassment. Felix laughs softly at your reaction, kicking his shoes off before joining you. Gently, he brings your hands away from your face and brings one of his to turn your chin to look at him.

"Everyone makes mistakes, love," Felix cups your cheek when you pout. "One twisted ankle from busted skates isn't the end of the world. You'll heal, and I'll be here the whole time."

"What about-"

"No." Felix says firmly, shaking his head. "I'll be here. You're not allowed to walk without my help until you're better. Now," He takes a pillow, standing up and placing it down where he was sitting. "Let's get this thing elevated."

Felix takes your foot with care, lifting it onto the pillow. He leans over to kiss your forehead before leaving to the kitchen behind you.

"Comfort food?" He calls out, and you look back confused; he just leans against the counter with a small smile. "We didn't get to eat before, and I want you to be as comfortable as possible. I'll bring the flowers in for you too."

"You're too good to me," You sigh, but nod your head. "I'd love that. Can we just... cuddle after?"

"Of course we can." Felix's voice gets closer as he comes back to place another kiss on your forehead, but you want the real deal, reaching up to pull him closer by the neck.

His soft lips connect with yours and you melt into it, smiling into the kiss. When you eventually pull back, Felix leans his head on yours.

"I swear your kisses can heal me," You say quietly.

Felix looks down to where your foot sits atop the pillow, still red and swollen. "Nope, still twisted."

SEUNGMIN (wc: 922)

It's another ten minutes until you see Seungmin approaching from the other side of the food court, standing right as your eyes land on him. His hands are tucked behind his back, piquing your interest as he's clearly hiding something. Instead of stopping when he gets to you, Seungmin turns and walks a few steps backward, nodding you over to follow him with a smirk on his face. You run up to him, trying to see what he's hiding, but he keeps moving in a way you can't.

"Be patient, we need to get outside." Seungmin groans, but you can hear the playfulness in his voice.

"You know I don't like surprises-"

"No, you like to say you don't," He counters, and you feel the corners of your lips tug upward. "I know you better than that."

You exit the mall a few moments later, having only met there as a convenient spot between your two homes. Seungmin gestures you over to the emptier side of the parking lot wrapping around, and you spot a small picnic area set up; your heart skips a beat seeing the effort Seungmin has put into this.

"Min..." You run up to the picnic table, eyes gazing over the set up; there are small cakes and treats and your favourite takeout all organized on the wooden structure. You're about to speak again, but gasp instead when you turn and see what he's holding out.

Seungmin smiles at your reaction, holding your previously broken skateboard up with both hands. The wheel had broken from years of use, and you haven't had the time to go out and get it fixed, so it's been collecting dust in the corner of your room for weeks. To see that Seungmin went out of his way to have it fixed as a surprise for your anniversary date was enough to make you tear up.

Seeing your expression, Seungmin places the board on the ground and comes up to you, pulling you gently by the hands over to it. He knows how much you love to skate, how important this is for you, so he thought it'd be a nice surprise. He places a kiss on your temple, urging you to get on.

You spend the next thirty minutes or so going back and forth on the sidewalk by the table, stopping to have a few bites and talk to Seungmin. He stares at you as you head away from him again, his lips twitching up into a small smile when he sees how much you're enjoying yourself. When you turn around, you go a bit faster, wanting to get back to Seungmin quickly to give him his gift. You don't notice the way your board goes of on an angle, too excited.

"Baby, I have someth- woah!" You collide with the hard ground, cement scraping your arms as you tumble.

"Y/n!" Seungmin shoots out of his seat, kneeling next to you and helping you into a sitting position. "God, what the hell? Are you okay?"

"I fall and the first thing you say to me is 'what the hell'," You try and laugh, but your eyes are stinging with unshed tears at the pain in your forearms.

Seungmin lifts your arms to him, inhaling sharply at the bloody scrapes decorating your skin. Dropping your arms, he runs back to the table, grabbing his bag. You watch him with a confused look until you spot the small first aid kit in his open bag.

"Always prepared," You mumble, pouting. You really lucked out with Seungmin.

"With a partner as clumsy as you? Of course I am," He jokes, taking out some wipes.

His touch is light as he pats the wounds, looking up at you every so often to make sure you're alright. Although you're making faces every time the wipe comes in contact with your skin, at least you aren't close to crying anymore, now used to the slight burning sensation on your raw skin. Seungmin carefully places some large bandaids on the scrapes, kissing each one as he does; his care makes your heart ache.

"I'll pack up and we can head back to yours. I don't want you getting hurt again." Seungmin declares, standing and helping you back on your feet.

"What? No," You shake your head, grabbing Seungmin's hand before he can get much further. "I want to enjoy our date how it was meant to be. They're just a few bumps and bruises, nothing I can't handle."

Seungmin looks at you, and you can tell he doesn't want to do that. What he wants is to take care of you, wrap you up in a warm blanket and never let you go. After a moment, he sighs, and you can tell he's giving in to the look you're giving him.

"Fine, but on one condition." You wait for him to continue. "We go in and buy you some new knee pads and stuff. Then you let me pamper you when we get to yours."

"Kim Seungmin, are you admitting you care about me?" You laugh, poking his cheek; he swats your hand away softly.

"Never in your wildest dreams."

"I don't know, my dreams can get pretty wild... oh!" You run over to your bag, digging to the bottom to grab an envelop. "Your gift!"

Seungmin laughs at your sudden change in topic, eyeing the envelop. Inside are two tickets to see his favourite baseball team, and you can't wait to see the look on his face.

JEONGIN (wc: 862)

"Yes, I can see." Jeongin wraps his arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Oh!" You're surprised a bit from the sudden appearance and affection of your boyfriend, but lean into him. "I wasn't expecting you to be here yet."

"I got out early. Let's go get the skates."

Jeongin keeps a hand on your back the whole way to the line up to retrieve the skates. Although you have your own, he still needs some, so you wait in line with him and catch up on your days. The whole time you're talking, you can't help but be a little stuck on his comment earlier, wondering if he was being serious, but you know neither of you like grand, public gestures like that.

The rink isn't incredibly busy for a Friday night, and you aren't complaining. It's easier to do and go where you want, colourful lights reflecting off the shiny ground. You look at Jeongin beside you, reds and blues and greens dancing over his sharp features; you're mesmerized.

Which is definitely what causes you to go crashing into the wall of the rink, losing your balance and falling backward. The back of your head smacks the hard ground, and you can feel tears stinging the corners of your eyes at the impact. Before you can really react, there are already gentle hands on your head trying to assess the damage. Your ears are ringing a bit, but you can hear your boyfriend's voice from above you and open your eyes, having squeezed them shut in pain.

"Y/n? Baby?" Jeongin's voice becomes clearer as he helps you sit up against the wall. "Say something, please. You're freaking me out."

"My head hurts," You whine, pouting and bringing your own hands to your head; you aren't bleeding, but there's sure to be a bump tomorrow.

"Yeah, I wonder why." Jeongin clears his throat, signaling some staff over. "We'll get you off the rink carefully, okay? You probably gave yourself a concussion or something."

It doesn't take long to get off the rink, and you let Jeongin take your skates off, too busy with holding your face in your hands to block the lights out. What you once saw as a beautiful, mood-setting atmosphere was now giving you the worst headache of your life. You keep a hand above your eyes as you leave, another attempt to block light while still being able to see where you're going.

Jeongin helps you into his car, driving you to the nearest hospital. Inside, you keep your eyes closed during the long wait, burying your head into Jeongin's shoulder. You're so grateful for him staying with you, the way his hand rubs up and down your arm bringing you comfort; movements reserved for you, and only you.

The doctor confirms you have a mild concussion, discussing the details of your rest and recover before sending you home. Once you get in, you collapse onto your couch with a groan of embarrassment.

"Want me to make you something?" You look up to see Jeongin setting his bag down and taking his coat off, giving him a confused look. "What? You really think I'm just going to drop you off at home, in pain, and dip?"

"You have things to do tomorrow-"

"Not anymore." Jeongin moves toward your kitchen. "Cancelled everything this week. I can't have you alone right now."

The casual tone of his voice has you melting, looking on at him with adoration in your eyes. You watch as he prepares you something, bringing over your favourite homemade comfort food. When he sets it down on the coffee table, you look up at him from where you're now curled up on the couch under a blanket.

"Would you hate me if I said I was too nauseous to eat right now?" You ask quietly, barely holding his gaze.

"Of course," Jeongin says with a smirk.

You reach out to smack him playfully, temporarily forgetting about your concussion and moving way too quickly. Grabbing onto the arm of the couch, you steady yourself from the wave of dizziness. Jeongin is instantly kneeling down and leaning you back, lightly scolding you as he does. A small smile forms on your face.

"You're lucky I love you," You giggle, looking at him with partially closed eyes.

"I am. I really am." Jeongin sighs, getting up to sit next to you.

Pulling him closer with your eyes closed, your hands brush the corner of something sticking out of his pocket, eyes instantly opening back up. You catch a glimpse of the corner of a red box before Jeongin begins bringing your blanket over him, but you stop him.

"You weren't kidding?" You look at him with wide eyes. It takes a moment to register what you're talking about, and then he begins to blush, hard.

"I wasn't."

"Jeongin-" He holds a finger to your lips to silence you.

"No, don't say anything. I want to wait until you're feeling better, okay?" You nod, and he leans in to kiss your cheek. "Now rest, baby. Need you healed up so I can do this the right way."

notes - HELP i actually don't know how to write anymore or smthn??? i'm so sorry if this is ass. me vs feeling insecure abt my writing ahahahahaha anyway. thank u for the request! i feel like maybe this didn't go the right direction sjdksk this is partially unedited too bc i kind of can't stand to reread my own writing so many times rn, so i apologize for any mistakes 🤡

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