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screampied · 8 months ago

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࣪.₊ 𐙚 SHE WANNA GO VIRALLL ?! ★

gojo, choso, nanami, toji, geto. cybersēx and getting freaky on camera with the jjk men

𐚁̸ warnings. fem! reader, camgirl/boy themes, phone sēx, unprotected, praise, dirty talk, toji slander, toy usage, hair pulling, guided órgasms, size kink, using a cóck ring on choso, squırting, òral (f! / m! receiving), voyerism.

𐚁̸. an. kind of lost in ikea rn so i wrote this yaya

TOJI ✩ FUSHIGURO.

“tch,” toji grunts as a third piercing smack hits against your ass. you let off a gasp as you’re just lazily arched over for him. just a few moments ago and you were leaking with globs of velvety ropes of cum. the powered on monitor you had propped up against the desk had a blinding bright glow to it. dark, viridescent eyes glance at your chat that’s spamming with donations before he squints. as he’s drilling you into your keyboard from behind, he clings onto your hip. “why the fuck does y’er chat keep callin’ me broke.”

“eheh, oh—” you swallow, feeling him reach in deep areas. indeed they were, flooding your chat with the same tiring jokes of toji. it was a common joke within your audience. as another moan leaves your throat rawly, you gnaw down on your lip. “they’re jus’ trolling, ‘toj. everyone knows you’re filthy rich, baby.”

itsnotchosover: girl who is everyone

sexymartha38: he's so hottttt. when is it my turn

drakesfatbbltbh: Dad? :0

with an eye roll, he resumes back to fucking you stupid. a being hand of his grasps onto your head, digging into your precious scalp. holding your head up, he makes you stare at your thousands of viewers with the dumbest expression glued onto your face. “bet all y’er little fans wish they were me, huh,” and there’s such cockiness dripping underneath his tone. toji’s fat cock has your mouth dangling agape—you’re almost drooling. it was so effortless on how you’d always coat his base with a translucent-colored ring. a pretty, soddened white ring that sticks against your ass each thrust he presents. it’s downright nasty, and yet—his hips were even nastier. as he’s got your hair with a firm secure grip, he lightly shoves you into the screen. moaning, you’re being pushed face first into the monitor—pupils glowing from the colors on your stream ricocheting against your dilated irises. “mhm, good girl. fuck back against me ‘n let these losers watch.”

of course—throughout everything, he’s catching all types of strays through the multicolored flood of comments.

toji could really care less though, a sly grin compresses against his lips before he makes you arch more forward. your back slouches over the wooden desk in such a sexy way that he can’t help but gift your left cheek with another rude spank. “f-fuuuck,” you’d sob out, trying to grab onto your mouse but he snatches your hand. with a quick paced speed, he makes your arm restrain around your back. significantly, he’s amping up his sloppy pace. your weeping cunt repeatedly squelches against him over and over and over. it’s never ending—profusely, your cunt’s idly dripping wet and the sounds just gets more addictive to listen to. that and the repetitive shrilling pings of your donations. aw, another goal met, it makes you smile with gratitude—and just as you were about to recite your recycled ‘thank you’ to your thousands of viewers, your breath catches in your throat and you whine. toji’s thickset base pap pap pap’s against you through and through and your mind’s just mush. not a single thought in your empty brain. “gonna cum, toji. tojiiiii, so fuckin’ big.”

“want me ‘ta slow down after you said i was small, yeah oookay,” and he’s just so sassy that you wanted smack him. that was practically true though. your chat told you to prank toji, telling him how he’s small. obviously, that wasn’t true, and here you were, feeling every staggering inch he’s presenting to your clingy greedy pussy.

a sopping string of your own slick sticks against his base each time—it’s sticky, he groans at the sight of it. a tongue of his flicks against the scar near the right side of his mouth and you wriggle your hips back into him. hissing at the almost sharp sensation between your thighs and your constant teasing, he yanks you back toward him. leaning up close to you, he licks a stripe down your neck before groaning. “sloppy fuckin’ girl, ‘m gonna get you pregnant on live. want that?”

with a sheepish whine pouring out of your throat, you grind your body against him, feeling the tip of his dick expand through every secluded crevice of your sweet cunt. “yeah, gimme a baby then. fill me up again, pleaseee.”

and as his pounding against your clit exceeds, so does your arch. the pace was almost animalistic. the chat’s spamming with comments, praising you and even trolling your expressions. your mind’s on a loop, with warm bodies clashing against each other, he groans into your ear. “fuck, gonna give you twins, girl,” and his voice was a mere pitchy deep. your limbs spike and with his rough hips, it allows a candied stretch to pry its way into your pussy. all from your girth, it’s almost delicious and you’d rate his dick five stars if you could. “shit, clamping all around m—” and before he could even finish his sentence, toji pauses. a roaring grunt rumbles out from him and he steadies your hips. not only does he shoot into you, but he gets a mean leg cramp. twitching ravened brows of his contort together and he quickly pulls out. it’s almost comedic, you stare at him through the reflection of your screen all while feeling his oozing hot cum spill down from between your thighs. hearing a giggle come from you, he grunts, spanking your ass. don’t laugh, little girl.”

“s- sorry, forgot you have skeleton bones,” you playfully rub your neck, peering your eyes at the dozens of comments trolling him.

“s— shut up,” he breathes, both hands on his hips. his leaky tip now flaccid and swollen, toji entraps his bottom lip with a teeth. exhaling out a tired whew, his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. “gimme a minute. er . . an hour, fuckk.”

and then as he tries to get up, a sudden loud crack in his bones occurs. “ignore that.”

NANAMI ✩ KENTO.

with a pout, you slump back onto the shared bed of your husband. it was near the afternoon—you knew he was busy, off on a mission or something but you missed him badly. it was almost painful at how you almost forgot what his touch felt like.

so you decide to text him. pulling out your phone, you scroll towards his contact with a heart next to his name. eagerly, you align your thumbs against the grey keyboard, squeezing your thighs together. starting off with a simple, ‘miss you baby,’ and awaiting for his reply. as you wait, you go back to playing with yourself. with your pretty legs all sprawled out, your fingers cramp up inside of your drooling pussy. shoved to the side of your thighs were a pair of panties nanami gifted you on your birthday. about four minutes later, he replies.

nanami: Sweetheart. I miss you too.

nanami: I need to hear your voice, call me yeah?

and without wasting any time, you dial those same known ten digits before pressing a thumb against the call button. on the first ring, he answers and he speaks first with a low, “hey you, how’s my pretty princess?”

“horrible,” you whine, still stuffing your cunt full of fingers. two slender fingers that were all soaked with your slick. it was a mess, your breathing patterns continue to change the more you imagine if he was really here. “i- i miss you, ‘ken. touchin’ myself ‘s so hard when you’re not around.”

“oh,” nanami says through the other line, his voice as smooth as silk. his absent presence only his fingers knew the exact layout of your pussy. nanami’s fingers were the pure definition of utopia—knowing all the right areas of your cunt with such ease. simply perfect. nanami was still on a mission, but he took care of his tasks. clearing his throat, taking a seat on a nearby bench, he sighs. “you’re touching yourself without me, huh sweetheart.”

“s- sorry,” you stammer, feeling yourself about to release soon. not before long, your thighs start to quiver and shake. “mhm,” you chew on the lower part of your lip, feeling your breathing shake up. “kento, talk to me please. help me c-cum, baby.”

“my wife decided to be filthy today,” he purrs, the sweet moans that escaped from your lips making his cock twitch. you were so loud, he’s always thought you had the prettiest voice. as you’re continuing to feel pounds of elation surge through you—you curl a finger inside, rubbing against your sensitive nub. “bring the phone up to her. wanna hear what she’s got to say too, my love.”

putting it up to your sopping cunt, you switch the phone to speaker. nanami grows mute for a second, listening to how wet you were. your fingers play and strum against your folds before you start to tremble. “k- kento, ‘m close, so close.”

“come on princess, listen to my voice, okay,” and with your back reclined against the cushioned mattress, you start to pant. your body feels limp, his voice was the perfect mixture of deep and a bit raspy—tender, each praise he gives you only makes you throb even more. “i want you to pretend you’re using my fingers,” and as he’s speaking, the tips of your fingers prod against that particular area. grazing against your clitoral hood, you nibble on your halfway lolled out tongue. “mhm, doing so well. just listen to me, play with her a bit more ‘n then let go sweetheart. let go just for me.”

gasping for any sorts of breaths—you whimper, two fingers getting lost into the depths of your pussy. it was a mess, a nice viscous amount of your slit departs from your digits as you pull them out of you before dragging them back in. “kento, ‘m cumming. all on your f- fingers,” you whine, imagining it was his thick fingers shoving in and out instead of yours. as you continue to whine through irregular breaths, the bobbing of your throat intensifies. “hnghh,” you babble, clammy fingers soaking in everything before you finally let loose. gushing out— it’s a lot. volumes of your sweet trickle onto the satiny sheets. a damp spot soaks its way into the fabric before you collapse back with a cute orgasm to follow. “f- fuck, ‘s good,” and your legs tremor vigorously. you felt like you were floating, everything throbbed and pulsed and your mind felt like it was racing at miles a minute. with an airy exhale, you put the phone back up to your mouth. “ken— you still there?”

“always,” he coos, his voice sending you various amounts of euphoric shivers. as you’re still letting go of your high, you can hear nanami’s raspy breaths through the other end of the phone too. he’s panting, almost as if he was actually there with you. “good girl, you did so good,” and nanami pauses for three seconds before whispering. “hm, i gotta go—but princess, send me a picture of the mess. i wanna see what ‘m gonna have to clean up when i get home.”

CHOSO ✩ KAMO.

it wasn’t really surprising to you that you found out your shy and timid best friend was a camboy. he was pretty well known—trendy and everyone’s favorite whiner.

pulling in thousands and thousands of views per month, he started to become a household name in the cyber world. choso was having a usual stream late at night, stroking himself off in front of his various followers. biting his lip, he tries to ignore the comments of his fans asking for him to try on his cock ring. “h- heh, if you guys want me to do that, you’ll have to help us reach our goal.”

and as soon as he says that, he reaches it.

with a frowning pout, choso’s lip quivers. “shit. nevermind then,” and as he’s fisting his own dick with solid pumps, a vein runs down his prolonged fat shaft.

he leans back, tossing his head back too—choso’s hair was unkempt and flowing down. he didn’t have his usual two ponytails today. ravened strands of hair go against his eyes and he lets off a nervous laugh toward his viewers. “ugh, s-so much for that. fine, i’ll use it for a little,” and then it dawned on him, the cock ring not only goes around choso, but it vibrates too.

as he’s just about to put the toy around his base, that’s right when you walk in. “hey, did you see my shower g-” and your jaw nearly drops once you’re trying to process the lewd view in front of you. so that’s what that noise was, the constant whining through the walls. choso’s reaction is an exact replica of yours. swallowing thickly, he’s still got his erect dick in hand, and it’s just so pretty. “oh, am i interrupting?”

“n— no,” he hitches a single breath, taking a moment to stare at your body. even dressed down, you looked so attractive. with a sheepish grin, he rubs a hand down the brief undercut that’s near his nape. he’s embarrassed, but it slowly goes away due to him being aroused. occasionally gawking at the chat, he does a hand motion with his fingers. “actually, since you’re here. i kinda need your help. please.”

“okay,” you giggle, setting aside your bag. you’re face first with his dick that’s standing tall right in front of you. it seems like he’s been stroking it for a while before stopping. the tip of his shaft was all reddened. a flustered pinkish pink. choso licks his lips and you stare at his neatly set up monitor. “hi chat,” you tease, and dozens of comments stare to flood, asking if you’re the girlfriend he keeps rambling about. with an eyebrow raise, you hum. “girlfriend?”

“sh— ignore them,” he grunts, and he grabs onto your arm. in a shaky breath, choso speaks in an almost needy whisper. “can . . i use your hand? sorry if that’s weird. you just- you have really nice hands,” and once you simper, giving him a nod, he softly grabs ahold of your wrist. choso couldn’t wait any longer, he didn’t really care if things felt rushed—with another lip bite, he hands you the plastic cock ring. “put . . can you put this on me ‘n stroke me off? mhm, ‘m close ‘n it might help.”

“ooh, a cock ring?” you stare at the toy in hand, a thumb feeling against the stretchy material. choso prepares to inhale once you stretch it out, playing with the buttons on it. your eyes briefly light up once you notice that it can really vibrate. oh, he was gonna whine for sure.

putting it around his dick, it flings a bit before you grab ahold of his base—it’s pretty, a vein runs down the very center and you can’t help but give his tip a little kiss. “mwah,” you smooch, even going far as to sliding your tongue against his sensitive frenulum. his tip was leaky, you taste a bit of his bitterly sweet precum before you turn the ring on its medium setting. once the whirring buzzes of the toy vibrates, you leer up at him. “mhm, ‘s this okay, ‘cho?”

“y- yes, kiss it more please. use your t- tongue,” and as he exhales deeply, his chest falters back. your tongue feels so good. with the mixture of added vibrations, he wasn’t gonna last two seconds. the maddening ringing in his ears was so high pitched that it was almost equivalent to tinnitus. whining, he grabs a fist full of your hair before you start to open your lips apart. choso watches with glossy eyes as you lower your head onto his length, taking him into your warm welcoming mouth. “mhm, such a nasty little t- throat,” and his voice cracks—even his attempt at dirty talk was adorable. choso then gawks back up at his audience, thousands of viewers praising choso for being so whiney, with a few comments praising how pretty you looked.

he never told you, but he told his fans that you were his girlfriend, every single stream. you were just his roommate, but he liked imagining you and him were together. a little fantasy of his.

your throat was a force to be reckoned with. it was warm and narrow, so perfect for his long inches. you almost gag a bit as he’s lightly pushing you back and down—yet he pauses every few seconds to ask if it’s too much or if you’re okay. choso was lengthy, a bit of girth and you were already slobbering on his dick. the constant teeth-shattering vibrations of the cock ring that’s wrapped around his base makes him whimper. “mphm,” you make a muffled noise, feeling him sloppily drag your head down back and forth. you’re trying to speak but choso nervously smiles.

“b- baby, don’t talk with your mouth so . . full, ‘s rude,” he swallows, feeling the inside of his throat become dry. and of course, choso barely lasts.

the pulsing in his cock only surges, and within minutes he’s already a mess—he ends up finishing early, shooting a whopping load into your mouth. it’s gooey and comes out in stringy ropes. it coats all on the back of your tongue and you’re slurping it all up. “s-so good,” he whines, and choso’s looking down at you with literal heart eyes dilating in his irises. with that throat of yours, he was already in love. he’s heavily panting, and he closes his laptop before making your bobbing head get off his length. with the cock ring still jittering against his length, he gingerly grabs you by the neck, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. despite its deepness, it was sensual. immediately, choso sucks against your tongue. half-lidded eyes staring up at you before he moans, tasting the remnants of his own cum on your lips. a free hand shakily rubs against your neglected cunt. “t- thank you,” he mewls, sable strands of hair sticking against his forehead. huffing out a single breath, he squeezes your cunt before making you wrap a leg around his waist. “i want more though. i want y- you.”

GOJO ✩ SATORU & SUGURU ✩ GETO.

with them both, they’re both major sluts.

it goes without saying that where there’s gojo there’s geto. in this case, they’d both be top camboys. fighting over the number one spot of being at the top. but as of now, they’d both be fighting between your legs. fighting over who can eat you out better.

they’d position their monitor in a good angle so that their thousands of viewers can see you with your legs all sprawled out.

“f-fuuck,” you whine, feeling each of their tongues clash and swipe against your saturated entrance. you were living every girl’s dream—as you ogle down toward your two best friends, you comb a hair through geto’s messy strands. with a tight yanking grip, you pull his hair up. “like that sugu, wanna feel your piercing more.”

“hmph,” gojo pouts, using a broad hand to pry your legs apart even further. you’d already came about four times. four times the two of them snatched out such dangerously pleasurable orgasms. with your head throwing itself back, you feel gojo starting to suck against your clit. gojo’s getting aroused himself. a free hand of his reaching down, creeping inside of his boxers.

the difference between gojo and geto—gojo was more of a clit biter, geto was more of a clit kisser.

where gojo’s sloppy sucks and slurps against your cunt would occur, they’d soon turn into playful bites and nibbles. “stop hoggin’ her, suguboo,” he grumbles, the cutest pout squeezing against his facial expressions. geto’s got a sly grin, feeling you tug all on his hair. as his face runs back and forth against your cunt, his chin pouring down with a sheeny slick of your slit, he kisses your pussy. a variety of smooches that makes you pulse right on their tongues.

“make me, pretty boy.”

they’d always bicker, always,

you’re struggling to stay still, squirming from the stimulation and it’s making your mouth water. you were sure they were gonna give you another orgasm within no time.

with your tummy heaving sporadically in and out at such irregular intervals, you let off a whiney whimper. gojo nibbles down against your cunt, and he suddenly pauses once he feels geto’s tongue flick against his. “eh. dude—”

“what, you want me to give you attention too or something?” geto shrugs, and you feel the long edges of his fingernails trace against your skin.

seductively, he gently uses the tip of his finger to carve into your leg, pretending he’s writing the four letters of his name on your flesh.

circling against your skin, he pushes his tongue in further before he’s nose deep—bedaubing all over and against your slick. “mhm, fuckin’ soaked for us.” and a thumb of his drags down your swollen, pulsing clit. your cunt continues to weep and beg for more, you’re so close—your orgasm was on the very tip of your tongue. you could almost taste it.

gojo’s still got the same pouty glower on his face as the two of them delve their twitching pink tongues into your cunt. hot, feverish breaths fan and aerate against your pussy before he cranes his head toward geto, mumbling in a cheeky tone. “you wanna kiss me so bad.”

“maybe i do.” geto rolls his eyes—and a dozen invisible question marks float over your head as your two best friends were literally flirting.

right in front of your salad—well in the case, right in front of your pussy.

by now, you’d all forgotten they were still live, hence the deafening pinging sounds of donations and notifications bringing you straight back to reality. staring down at them both, geto and gojo were still between your legs before they lean in to kiss. immediately, gojo folds before whining into geto’s tongue as the moving muscles dance amongst each other. for some reason, as they’re making out and still eating you out, it makes you throb. gojo’s pretty lashes flutter close, and they take turns with claiming each other’s lips and sucking against your pussy.

but that only lasts for a second or two—as they’re still having their lips locked, a hand of geto’s slides up gojo’s shirt, chuckling against his lips. furrowing your brows, it’s now your turn to pout. “um?? hello. did you guys just forget about me?”

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fumiliar · 4 months ago

Text

texting kento was always a hassle.

y/n: kenn, what do you want to eat for dinner?

as you texted your husband, you patiently waited for his response, focusing back on the tv screen to continue watching your favourite show. as a few minutes passed, you could feel your phone vibrate.

ken💗: anything you want

y/n: what about takeout?

read. as you waited for a good minute, his text finally sent through.

ken💗: y

y/n: okkk, see you soon kenn

you went to order take out, adding each of your meals and buying in immediately. as soon as you pressed order, you could hear the sounds of keys jingling.

"i'm home love, have you ordered the food yet?" kento took of his coat and shoes. he walked directly heading your direction to give you a kiss on the forehead.

"yup. just ordered," you showed him you phone screen as he winced.

"it's so bright," he muttered, blinking to get used to your light emitting from your phone.

"it's not that bright ken, you're being dramatic," you rolled your eyes as kento chuckled.

"this generation and your phones," he shook his head, as he pulled out his flip phone. "this is the real phone," he pointed to his phone.

"has lasted me years! years i tell you."

"well that old ass keyboard is making you type slow," you shook your head.

"no it isn't."

"ok old man."

"i'm not old."

"says the one that uses a flip phone!" you giggled, making kento roll his eyes.

you couldn't stop giggling, he leaned down to your eye level, putting his hands on the couch, basically trapping you. your giggles stopped as you stared into his eyes, the close proximity making you look away. his hand softly guided your face to look back at him. "well you love this old man," he kissed you, his hand slowly moving to the side of your cheek. "dont you?"

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eyivibyemi · 2 years ago

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✧ I won’t really write descriptions for these, but see original post tags for explanation/commentary on the song snippet ✧

#I actually don't like this one really but that's fine ghghj #Basically I have a bunch of clips of just me messing around with various real instruments like little door harps and childs instrumnets #like kazoos or little electronic keyboards or etc. So I save a folder of snippets of things that seem interesting #like out of a 35 minute 'I have no idea how to read or actually play music and am just improvising whatever and recording it' session #usually I'll edit it down and just save a few of the most interesting or neat sounding 30 second clips. So that later maybe I could throw #the clip somewhere and sing over it or mix it with another clip or do something else (because of the one song a day challenge thing and me #usually trying to get these done with as little effort/time as possible- I find it helps sometimes to already have part of it done. so if #you're TRULY out of ideas that day it can be like 'well I could always just look through those old kazoo snippets and slap one down and #sing over it or something I guess'' lol.. so this is one of those)#ANYWAY. so I have a folder of little saved snippets #to do that with. I think it was a little out of tune lap harp thing from the bins #I also wanted to make it echoey since it was so slow and mellow sounding but.. eh #I just don't really like the vibe as much. weird to me #Doodly Bo is also a result of the 'slap down short clip and improvise something over it' experiment though and I do actually #like that one so lol.. Some are redeemable. I think I still largely prefer no instruments or other music underneath and just #voice stuff like a capella or choir type music or whatever. But experimenting with actual sounds like drums or piano alongside can be fine #oo. I actually should learn that more since I need to make music for my games and stuff that I'm making and I'm not #going to do like.. low effort experimental choir music as the background for a visual novel lmao #I will have to begrudingly pull out an actual keyboard and maybe even *shudders* use a metronome for once just so #things are even and on beat *tears in eyes. trying not to throw up* ghbhjj #THERE's nothing wrong with it actually lol I just hate the confines of it. I think since music is the Experimental And Goofy hobby for me #I get so used to the Unstructured Play vibe of it where I don't know what I'm doing and some of it sounds like shit and it doesnt #matter because WOOO freedom just mess around do whatever! woooo and so on that when it's time to be serious like 'okay but now #you DO in fact need to try to make a song for real that sounds good and actually follow some sort of structure' its like NOOOOOO :(#alas I have no money so I have to do everything myself. and even if I got money the first thing I would hire people to do for my game would #be ART because i HATE digital art and drawing on a somputer SO much for some reason. THEn leftover money I would hire #people to do music for it. then hire people to do code. and then all I do is the writing (best funnest part) lol. ANYWAY #beepo tag

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eternalsunrise · 4 months ago

Text

study date

lsu! joe burrow x fem! reader

wc: 1.7k

tags! established relationship, make out sesh, no actual smut, jus a couple of horny college kids in love with each other, vomit inducing fluff

notes! brainrot so bad i had to start writing fics. hope the joe burrow community finds this well 🧘‍♀️ expect more for joe coming! xoxo

letters on a keyboard clicking and a pencil scrawling across paper are the only sounds that reverberate around the room. you started off sitting up straight, but as time progressed you’re basically lying down, laptop perched on your lap.

the pillows are plush underneath you, and your boyfriend’s scent is enveloping you. there’s something about joe’s bed that always feels 10 times more comfortable than your own.

if you closed your eyes you could probably doze off for a mid afternoon nap.

you hear the sound of someone shifting above the covers, but you don’t turn your head to look, too preoccupied with your essay that’s due in the morning.

you feel a kiss press against your cheek, and you can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “hi joey. you doing okay?”

another kiss against your cheek, followed by an overdramatic sigh, “yeah, just really hard to focus on statistics with something so distracting in my bed.”

joe’s closer now, a hand playing with your hair as he peppers kisses down your jawline.

you roll your eyes at his antics, knowing exactly how this was going to go. “oh i’m the distracting one?” you question, your tone sarcastic.

he moves his hand to your cheek, tilting your head to the left to face him. his blue eyes bore into yours and you realize why you’d avoided looking at him. it’s much easier to stay on task without his handsome face in view.

joe leans down to place a slow peck on your lips, “a very.” peck. “very.” peck. “pretty distraction.”

he pulls away from you entirely, smirking when you try and chase his lips. this is exactly why you wanted to study alone. as much as you loved your boyfriend, how are you expected to get anything done with a gorgeous quarterback all over you? but the two of you have barely seen each other these past few weeks, and joe insisted on you both doing schoolwork together before his practice later that day.

“joe. baby. we’re supposed to be studying.” your voice is pleading, begging for any sort of mercy. he caresses your cheek bone with his thumb, a smirk sitting on the side of his mouth. “i am studying.” he uses a tone that tells you he wants you to ask what his punchline is. you bite.

“and what are you studying exactly, joseph?”

he trails his hand down your body until it rests on your waist, just above where your hands and laptop sit. he lets his eyes trail down and back up, bright blues staring at you while he licks his lips, “anatomy.”

you let out a laugh for his sake, grabbing his wrist and removing his hand from your body, “you’re impossible!” you place a quick kiss on his lips, standing up and taking your laptop.

joe groans loudly, falling back against the pillows on his bed, “where are you going?”

you carry your work to his wooden, student-issued desk, setting your laptop down and taking a seat. “you’re going to stay there. and i’m going to stay here. we both need to get work done and it’s hard to do that when you’re being…well you!” you try to sound frustrated, but you both know better.

joe being the cocky bastard he is, just gives you a knowing smile. the effect he has on you just strokes his ego (as if anyone else needed to). he decides to leave you be for the time being. he picks his pencil back up and holds his hands up in faux innocence, “yes ma’am. whatever you need.”

you turn back to your essay, typing your third page, smiling when the framed picture of you two displayed on his desk appears in your peripheral vision. if you looked around, your presence is covering this room. his whole apartment in fact. sure, you may be putty in his hands. but you have joe burrow pretty much wrapped around your finger.

after about 20 minutes of both of you working diligently in silence, you hear joe clear his throat.

“hey pretty?”

“mhm?” you reply, clicking back and forth between your class notes and your paper.

“didn’t you say you took this class last year?” joe asks, deep voice like velvet when it hits your ears.

you pause your task and turn around in your chair, “yeah i did for a semester, why?” he looks absolutely delicious. he’s sporting a cozy lsu hoodie and nike gym shorts that reach barely mid thigh, his trademark array of bracelets decorate his wrists. the way one of this legs is raised make his shorts ride up, giving you a peek at his black briefs. you suddenly wonder if the essay is even that important.

“wanna come check this for me? make sure i did it right?” he taps his pencil a couple of times and holds out his notebook toward you. there’s no flirtation intent behind joe’s question, he just values your insight. and for some reason, that just turns you on even more. he’s won. he’s getting what he wanted without even trying.

you stand up from your seat and make your way over to him, taking the notebook from his hand. he looks up at you in silence, waiting for you to check his work. but instead you toss the notebook to the side. it makes a slight thud when it hits the hardwood.

joe opens his mouth to question your actions but you’re on the bed with him in a matter of seconds. you swing your leg over his hip and straddle his lap, legs resting on either side of him. his hands are on you immediately, per instinct, large hands engulfing your thighs. it takes him a moment to process your actions but he sobers up quickly, cocky and confident, “aw, who knew stats could get you so worked up?”

you want to knock that stupid smirk off of his face. you also never want it to go away.

“shut up.” followed by a feverish kiss full of want and desire. the lack of each other for weeks has stretched the rubber band of tension to a hilt, and you finally let it snap. your fingers thread through his wavy hair at the nape of his neck, tugging just a bit. he’s due for a haircut soon. a noise rattles up from his throat, your reaction immediate. your hips grind down, begging for some friction. he gladly provides, guiding your waist back and forth.

the next moments are full of tongue kisses and heavy breathing. “next time we—“ gasp. “study together, we’re doing it in public–ow!” joe bites your lip, an apology vibrates against your lip, you know he doesn’t mean it. “like the library.” joe grips your hips and flips the two of you over with ease. you yelp in surprise, now looking up at him.

joe scoffs at your words, “like that’s ever stopped us before.” he reconnects your lips, a new sense of urgency found in this kiss. he props himself up with an elbow next to your head. your leg finds itself hooking around his waist, forcing him impossibly closer to you. he breaks away for air, hand dragging up and down your lifted thigh. he leaves goosebumps in his wake.

he looks down between your bodies and watches as your hips lift to meet his own, adam’s apple bobbing. his eyes flick back to yours, a familiar darkness clouding the ocean. his kisses follow a trail down your jaw, “god baby, you drive me crazy.” he purrs in your ear, lips attacking your neck. you aren’t sure how he can say that, when you’re the one that feels dizzy under his touch. your hand finds his hair again, letting out fits of giggles when his mouth grazes your most sensitive spots.

you tilt your head to the side, catching sight of the time on your phone screen as it lit up on the nightstand. you let out a gasp, partly because of joe shifting his hand between your thighs, but mostly because it was almost time for, “joe. practice.”

he returns his attention to your lips, “5 more minutes, all i need.” he murmurs, capturing you in a kiss that’s hard to turn away from. you feel his hand slip under the waist band of your pants, and as much as you dread this ending; you know what you need to do.

“joey. babe, hey.” you use your grip on his hair to pull him away. the love drunk look on his face makes this even harder. “listen. as much as i want to, we can’t. you love to be unreasonably early, and coach o will track me down himself if i’m the reason his star isn’t there for pre, pre warmups.”

joe chuckles and nods his head, reluctantly removing his hands from you entirely; it’s as if you’re magnets, if he isn’t across the room you’ll gravitate back together. he stands and starts to get ready for the one thing you’re forced to share the title of joe’s first love with, football.

you start to stand to get ready to go home, but joe quickly faces you and shakes his head, black backpack and cleats in his hands.

“no no no stay. here.” he throws his backpack over his shoulder and uses his free hand to dig in his pocket. he pulls out his purple lanyard, plucking his apartment key from the carabiner.

joe places it in your hand and folds your fingers over it.

“here, i’m gonna have you one made anyway. go back to your dorm, grab some stuff. you can order dinner, finish your homework here. i’ll be back in a couple hours and i’ll take you to that froyo shop down the street and then we can…finish what we started.” joe says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. he punctuates his words with a sweet kiss on your lips, another on your forehead, “bye pretty. love you.”

you stare at him in awe, “love you. have fun!”

he winks at you before he walks out of the front door.

you sit there on the edge of the bed, staring down at the shiny key in your palm. you’re shocked at how he can make such a big relationship step seem so nonchalant. he’d obviously been thinking about this for a while, you being around more. in his space.

you flop down on your back, kicking your feet with a giddy smile. if you weren’t alone you’d be embarrassed.

looks like you’ll be studying here a lot more often.

#joe burrow x reader #x reader #joe burrow fic #lsu joe #lsu joe burrow #joe burrow #joe burrow x you

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strwbabydoll · 3 months ago

Text

The Feeling Came Late (I’m Still Glad I Met You)

pairings: grumpy!college student! Harry x fem! sunshine!reader

summary: Harry hates Y/N, it seems like it's been like that forever. He's quick to insult and correct her even when she's right, he's just always been the only one to pick on her no matter what she does. She doesn't understand why it's like this between them or what she did to make him dislike her so much, but what if it's all just a lie?

overall warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, kind of enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol consumption and drug mentions, foul language, Harry is a major asshole in this tbh, heavy on the grumpy x sunshine in this.

chapter 2/? (wc: 3.4k)

masterlist

001 | 01 | 02

- - - -

Chapter 2: Surprise, Surprise

Harry wakes up to the sound of his phone dinging and he grumbles as he sits up and stretches. He looks around and stops his tired gaze at the small window next to his bed. It's dark with just a hint of sunlight beginning to cut through the glass windows, this is definitely not the scenery he's used to when he awakes from his slumber. Groggily he grabs his phone with one hand and rubs his left eye with the other, turns on the phone and hisses as he squints.

He quickly turns the brightness of the screen down to a manageable setting and mumbles under his breath when he sees it's a little past six in the morning.

"Who the fuck is awake right now and why are they trying to talk to me. Someone better be fucking dying." The message is from an unknown number, the numbers staring at him tauntingly.

///

Unknown: hey. it's y/n. i got your number from principal Oscar. lmk whenever works best for you and i'll do my best to arrange my schedule otherwise! :)

— — —

He grumbles once more about the timing of the text and stares at the screen trying to think of an appropriate response. He could and absolutely wants to just leave her on read and never talk to her again. That seems like the most appropriate since she interrupted his sleep, why is she even up this early? But maybe he should show a sliver of compassion and reply to the text briefly before going back to sleep.

He decides on not texting back, simply because all this thinking of replying, responses and times is making his head hurt, so he sets his phone back onto the small wooden table beside his bed and clambers back into the warm cocoon of his blankets. Wrapping himself in the thick blanket, he sighs blissfully as his head relaxes into the soft cushiony bed. He begins to close his eyes and go back to sleep, the pleasant warm feeling of sleep very quickly approaching him.

Just as soon as he gets comfortable and almost falls asleep, his phone dings once more. He grumbles as he throws the blanket off of him and grabs his phone once again. The same numbers teasing him as another text comes through.

///

Unknown: this is harry right? i'm so sorry if this isn't!

////

He rolls his eyes as he mumbles, his fingers typing away on the keyboard as he sends his response.

Harry: Yes, it's me. In case you haven't noticed, it's five in the morning. I was asleep.

///

He gets a response almost immediately, as if she was staying in the chat waiting for a response.

Unknown: yes i know! why are you still sleep? i like to get my day started early!

Harry: Because no one in their right mind is up this early.

Unknown: sorry for waking you! just wanted to see what times and days work best for you. :)

Harry: Give me a couple hours.

Unknown: okay! have a good nap! :)

— — —

He mumbles again as he sets his phone grumpily back on the table, wrapping himself back into his blanket just to find it's not as warm anymore. He mutters under his breath, silently complaining about her up so early and choosing to annoy him so early as well, and to top it off she made him lose the warmth of his blankets. He wraps himself up in the blanket and lays back down, resting his head on the soft pillow as he closes his eyes.

Opening his eyes once more a couple hours later, he gets up and stretches once again. The muscles in his back pops smoothly and he groans softly. He gets out of his bed and quickly makes his bed, wrinkles sit in the middle of the blanket as he sets his pillow on top, but he can’t bring himself to care. He feels much better after getting another couple hours of sleep.

He heads into the bathroom and relieves his bladder, sighing in relief as it empties. Shutting the lid down, he flushes the toilet and heads to the sink so he can wash his hands. After he's finished, he brushes his hair and puts it in a man bun.

Walking over to the small dresser where he keeps his clothes, he opens his needed drawers and pulls out an outfit. Settling on a white Rolling Stones t-shirt and some black skinny jeans, he gets dressed and makes sure he puts on his signature rings. Once he's done with that, he sprays his Tom Ford cologne and grabs his phone, responding to the very few notifications he does have and stares at Y/N's name in his message list.

Her simple text stares at him, somehow politely demanding a response from a couple hours ago. He huffs and mutters 'fucks sake' under his breath as he clicks on it and begins to type out his response.

///

Harry: I'm available anytime

///

Not too long after, just long enough for him to set his phone in his pocket and slip on his brown Chelsea boots, his phone dings.

///

Y/N: okay! um how about tomorrow around 6 at the library?

— — —

Harry laughs dryly at her enthusiasm as he sends a plain thumbs up, the yellow emoji a stark contrast in the very one sided text conversation, and afterwards he heads out the small bedroom in his dorm and heads to the front door. He passes the various pictures of his roommate and his girlfriend and a couple of pictures showcasing his orange kitten, Delilah, in various moments. She was wrapped up in a soft towel from the day Harry brought her home, and other moments where he thought she looked pretty and decided to capture the moment.

All the pictures are neatly hung in a long cardboard frame, colorful tacks adding a pop of color to the otherwise boring wall of pictures. The small hallway leads to a basic living room, a simple gray futon sits alongside the cream colored wall with a modern artistic sketch hanging above it, a dark brown bookshelf holding all their movies and the very few books and textbooks they happen to own is placed next to the futon, and a small dresser underneath a decently sized tv.

In the corner of the living room area sits a small gray cat bed and Delilah lays there peacefully sleeping in a little ball, her tail twitching occasionally. The ends of Harry's lips begin to curl upwards at the sight as he slowly walks over to the small dresser designated just for her. He silently opens the top drawer and opens the small can containing her food. The smell quickly floods his nose and he grimaces as he walks over to her food bowl and pouring it in there, silently gagging as it squelches into the bowl.

He throws away the now empty can in the small trash can and grabs her water bowl walking over to the dresser once again and fills it with a small water bottle sitting in the top drawer. He sets it down beside the food one carefully because he doesn't feel like cleaning up water right now and walks back to the dresser. He opens the second one and grabs a few of her favorite toys and sets them under the coffee table in the living room, allowing her something to do while he's gone and turns on the tv. Quickly pulling up her favorite tv show - Animal Planet - he walks over to her and very gently rubs the top of her head. He coos at her softly to coax the sleepy kitten awake.

Delilah stretches and yawns as she opens her eyes, focusing on Harry crouching above her, she lets out a tired but happy meow as she nuzzles her face into Harry's hand.

"Good morning, sweet girl. I gotta get to school but you got everything set up for you, just how you like. I love you and I'll be back soon." He says with a small laugh as he gives the small kitten a couple extra pets and gets back up, stretching slightly as he heads to the door, making sure to grab his signature leather jacket from the futon as he opens the door and heads out.

— — —

It doesn't take him long to head to the campus thanks to his dorm being a short drive from the campus. He parks his car in an empty space nearest the school and he sits in the car after he turns it off. He watches her as she walks to the bike rack, her long hair flowing gently behind her as she walks due to the wind blowing. She's dressed in an olive green sweater and dark blue Levi pants that flare at the end, she'd pair it with some white Nike Air Forces, a medium sized white tote bag and a matching olive green thin belt, he can see the small shimmer of her jewelry shine when the sun hits it as she ties her bike to the small rack.

He turns the key to shut off his car and opens the door, slowly stepping outside the car as he puts on his jacket. He closes the door with a soft slam and locks it, the beep alerting the girl as she turns around, her hair briefly swishing in front of her face as she turns. He watches as she frowns in anticipation of a snarky remark but returns to normal when it doesn't happen. He slowly makes his way to the entrance, purposely avoiding eye contact with her as he grows closer. He hopes she gets the hint to leave him the hell alone, and wants to keep their interactions to an absolute minimum.

"Hey!" He hears her voice ring out from behind her but his pace doesn't falter, he actually starts walking just a tad bit faster in an attempt to get inside before she reaches him. He makes it to the top of the steps before he feels a soft hand grip his shoulder and a tug, signaling him to turn around. He slowly turns around, face deadpanned and he takes a deep breath.

"What?"

"Any place specific you want to meet in the library?" She asks softly and he shakes his head as he turns around swiftly and starts his journey into the school once again. He can feel her presence behind him and his frown begins to form.

He chooses to ignore her as they walk, the chatter of the other students in the hall filling their ears as they continue. One of Harry's friends, Alex, walks up to Harry with a big smile as he pays his shoulder and glares at Y/N.

"How you doin' Haz?" He asks and Harry's frown only deepens at the unwanted conversation.

"Not now Alex." He shakes his head as he heads to his locker. He can hear Alex scoff as he walks away but he can still feel her presence behind him.

He scoffs lightly as he gets to his locker, one ringed hand reaching up to twist the little knob to the correct numbers and opens the door. He quickly grabs a textbook and slams it shut and he walks away, leaving a hurt and confused Y/N standing at the locker.

— — —

She can't help but frown at Harry's more than usual grumpy behavior as she heads to her own locker, true enough she was the main reason why he's so grumpy but honestly how was she to know he’d still be sleeping? It’s not her fault that she just loves helping people! She should know better than to assume they'd be friends simply because she's tutoring him, but she assumed they'd at least be better than this. She hoped he would be somewhat tolerable, a very silly thought of hers because when is he ever tolerable? She doesn’t know how it came to be this way. She can remember a time where the two of them were cordial and even dared to say the best of friends, but then something changed and she wishes she knew what it was.

She wishes she could just go back in time and watch the two of them under a microscope to see what went wrong, to figure out why he hates her. She misses him terribly, but that’s kept locked away in a box of her feelings and emotions never to be seen again alongside her favorite childhood memories.

She huffs in frustration when she can't get the lock to open, her combination not seeming to work as she twists and twists. She swears it's the right one, so she tries once more and she's met with once again the lock not opening.

"Come on!" She huffs as she stares at the lock intently. Beginning to think that maybe she changed the lock combination, she tries a different sequence of the same numbers and after a couple of tries she finally hears the satisfying click as the lock opens.

She quickly grabs the textbooks for her first two classes and shuts it gently as she walks to her first class, her tote bag gently bouncing off her hip as she walks. She just barely makes it to her first class before the teacher closes the door, her hand pushing on the tall wooden door as she cries out 'wait please!' The door opens and she sees the teacher smile softly as he lets her in.

"Just in time Y/N, have a seat." He says and she nods silently, with her head down she quietly makes her way over to an empty seat towards the back of the class. Grabbing her notebook and a pen out of her bag, she begins to write down the title of the notes she's gonna be taking and pulls her assignment due from the front of the notebook as well.

— — —

Time seems to fly in front of her eyes, the day taking not nearly as long as it usually feels like as she gets released from her last class of the day. With a smile on her face, she plugs her earbuds in her phone as she walks through the halls, stopping briefly to answer any questions from her classmates and to wave goodbye to her teachers.

She spots Harry talking to a pretty brunette, one of more popular girls who also happens to be on the cheerleading team she thinks, her lips pulled back into a dazzling smile as she twirls her hair around her finger as she speaks. Hesitantly, she makes her way over and taps him on the shoulder, meekly saying 'excuse me' and she's greeted with a very nasty glare from the girl.

"Um, we're talking." The girl says with a frown on her face. Y/N can't help the flush of embarrassment that begins to heat her cheeks up as she looks down.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to remind Harry of the library. It's at six, if you can't make it or gonna be late, just let me know." Y/N's voice comes out quietly as she speaks, her hands subconsciously moving to her front as she begins to play with her fingers.

Harry lets out a very unenthusiastic 'uh huh' as his eyes never leave the brunette's and he begins to talk to her once more, completely ignoring the other girl behind him as the brunette smirks and plays with the collar of his t-shirt. When she realizes that he isn't paying attention, she frowns slightly before making her way out of the school building as music plays in her ears.

She mumbles curses to Harry under her breath as she unties her bike and sets the cord in her bag. Hopping on her bike, she begins her ride back to her apartment. She smiles as she passes the cars and families out and about, their joy and love radiating off of them making her smile and aw. As she continues biking, she makes a quick stop at her favorite flower shop, propping her bike against the side of the store and she quickly walks in. The smell of all the flowers welcome her warmly as well as the bright smile of the lady standing behind the counter.

"Y/N! So good to see you! How've you been?" She asks and Y/N smiles as she walks up to the counter.

"Hi Tameka! I'm good, how are you?" Y/N asks and Tameka responds with great enthusiasm as she starts telling the younger girl about her kids and how the store's been getting along.

Y/N loves coming to this flower shop because no matter how long she stays away, she's always greeted with a warm welcome, one that reminds her of her mother at a young age. The shop gives her a sense of family no matter what happens, and she's never been more grateful. After Tameka finishes rambling on about her life, she turns her attention to the younger girl as she props her head onto folded manicured hands and flashes her a warm smile.

"Here to get the usuals? Anything new to update me on chica?" Y/N shakes her head with a small laugh as she leans on the counter.

"Of course, you know I never stray. And no new updates unless you count having to tutor the boy who seems to hate my existence an update." She says and sighs, the thought of having to do so is a big damper on her happiness and a heavy weight on her heart — it’s not that she doesn’t want to tutor him, she just knows that it’ll be like pulling teeth with him. She’ll have to pry answers out of him and will more than likely be the worst tutoring session ever, she’ll be exhausted afterwards.

She can't help but to wonder how it'll go, will he be the same as he is in school? Is he gonna spend the whole time mocking her and poking fun (he most definitely will, she’s sure of it. He won’t turn down an opportunity to annoy her and get under her skin), or will he be kind and listen to her (maybe in another universe, some alternate reality where they’re cordial. She’s silly to even think this was a suggestion, she should know him by now), asking questions whenever he's confused? Will the session end in a screaming match as he tests her limits or will it be calm as he complies and agrees to her help.

As she pays for her flowers, she can't help but to ask herself those questions. She knows wondering won't help determine the outcome of the coming day, but she knows there's only one way to find out.

She makes her way home, her bouquet of flowers sitting neatly in her tote bag as she rides along. She takes pleasure in the feeling of the wind brushing against her skin and flowing through her hair as she pedals along. The sound of people chatting on the sidewalks and the sound of cars whirring by her and honking at others fill her ear and she just smiles. She enjoys the sound of her community while others might say that it’s too loud and there’s no peace in all of the noise, she says otherwise. She can’t imagine her city in silence, to not listen to the usual sound because it’s all she knows.

She makes it home and parks her bike beside her apartment, tying it up and making it inside the building. She heads down the short hall and to her door, unlocking it and walks inside and smiles at the sereneness of her own space. She locks the door behind her and sits down on the couch with her notebook and her favorite pen, thinking of the best way to carry out these sessions with Harry. What would be the best approach and everything to do with it. She wants to make sure that he understands that she’s not going to allow him to just walk all over her and cheat his way through.

She wants to actually help him, not just give him what he wants; she wants to give him what he needs and what he needs is someone to take time out of their day and work with him, cater the worksheets and lessons to how he learns best so he can actually learn the information. She can only hope for the best as she begins to write out a plan for the next few weeks, she just knows that she’s going to need all the luck dealing with Harry.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one direction #harrystyles #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles x fem!reader #— 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒

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tasteracha · 8 months ago

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the cat that got the cream.

a/n: well. i did it. also, i can't believe this is the first time i've written a daddy kink???? that's crazy. anyways. warnings: reader has a pussy, daddy!kink, minho calls reader kitten. SMUT - MINORS DNI. <1k.

you knew minho was working; he had told you he would be occupied for the rest of the night with an apology and a kiss to your forehead, but you were horny and he has never denied you before. you pad into the bedroom, the only thing keeping you from being completely naked is his white button up shirt that you had been wearing all day.

“daddy,” you tug at the bottom of the shirt, rolling the material between your fingers.

“daddy’s busy, kitten,” he looks away from his computer screen for a moment and your face is reflected in his glasses. you look a little pitiful, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth as you give him your widest-eyed stare.

“i don’t want to disturb you, i just…” you trail off, taking a step closer to him. “need you.”

“you can play with yourself for a bit, can’t you?” he asks, taking one of your hands in his and dragging his thumb against your skin. he returns his attention to the screen and lets go of your hand, and your body sways towards him with the lack of touch.

“i tried,” you pout, but it goes unnoticed by him. “can’t do it without you.”

“fuck,” he sucks in air through his teeth, glancing between you and his computer a few times. “alright, come here.”

he stands and your entire body sings, ready for him to drag you to bed and have his way for you, but you’re stopped short when he takes his pants off and settles back into his desk chair. he pulls you by the arm and settles you into his lap, both of your legs straddling his thigh with his arms around you.

no, not around you. reaching past you so that he could keep typing away at his computer.

“what?” you turn your head towards his, leaning in to whisper your lips against his, but he pulls back.

“i said i was busy,” he tuts, pushing your head back gently until your chin was tucked away against his neck. “get yourself off, kitten. i need to get my work done.”

you flush so hard you feel lightheaded - he wants you to get yourself off on his thigh while he works? you should feel offended but instead a rush of thrill sparks up your spine and your hips move on their own accord. your bare pussy slides against his thigh, the wetness from you collecting with every twitch of your body, and it feels good.

the sound of your breathing pairs with the clacking of his fingers against the keyboard. you push past the embarrassment of him letting you use his body like this as he ignores you completely, as if you were truly one of his cats begging for his attention. you lean into it fully, bracing your hands against his chest as you roll your hips back and forth, back and forth, gasping when your clit brushes directly against his skin.

“fuck, daddy,” you moan out to deaf ears, unable to keep the words from spilling out of your mouth. “feels so- so good.”

you’re not close yet, but the feeling is so good that it doesn’t matter whether you come or not. you drift into the pleasure, your body moving on its own as you bury your head in the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. you don’t realize how long you’ve been going at it until you start sweating, your muscles settling into soreness as you start to slow down.

you also don’t notice that the sound of typing has stopped, but you feel the hands that grip at your waist as if they were molten hot, the pads of minho’s fingers searing into you like a brand. he tugs at you sharply, your pussy digging into his thigh in a way that makes your entire body jerk. he pulls you back and jerks you forward again, riding you against his thigh like you were a toy.

“that’s it,” he whispers into your ear, keeping his pase fast and brutal. “you’re doing so good for me kitten.”

the praise filters through your head even though you truly weren’t doing anything, and as you come your vision whites out and the noise in your ears turns gray and staticky. when you come back to yourself you’re still on his lap, nestled into his body perfectly.

“thank you, min,” you mumble, nuzzling him with your head and closing your tired eyes.

“of course, kitten,” are the last words you hear, drifting off with a satisfied smile on your face, looking like a cat that just got the sweetest cream.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #lee know smut #lee minho smut #stray kids drabbles

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esote-rika · 21 days ago

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derision as prelude to desire | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader

Category: smut 18+ MDNI, fluff if you squint

Summary: Spencer Reid’s new coworker is mean but one night doing overtime together leads to the two of them bonding.

Content: glasses!Spencer, workplace rivals if you squint, Spencer Reid vs technology, reader is kind of mean and based on Blair Waldorf (in background, looks, and personality), Spencer is petty, his mind is in the GUTTER, use of eye drops, making out, sub!Spencer, fingering, oral (male receiving), whining and begging glasses!Spencer. Let’s pretend the BAU doesn’t have any CCTV cameras for this one m’kay thanks

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: This is an ITCH in my brain, like I’ve been thinking about a Spencer Reid x Blair Waldorf crackship since August last year it’s actually concerning. One of my favorite ship dynamics is loser boy x popular girl, so it makes sense. Still in second person to make it immersive. This isn’t a crossover, so there will be no spoilers for Gossip Girl. The reader's personality, looks and background are just based on Blair. Let me know if you want to read more of this dynamic because I have so many ideas for it oh my god. I hope you enjoy it!

Spencer Reid often muses on the series of events that had brought you from the streets of the Upper East Side to work in Quantico, Virginia. It would be easy to ask, of course, or even have Penelope do a quick background check on you, but he’s made a game of it instead, piecing together what he knows of your history, filling in the blanks of what would have gone wrong, what decisions you would have taken, in order to leave the privileged life you led and enter public service.

As far as he had been concerned, you don’t belong anywhere near the FBI, let alone the BAU. Spoiled, rich, with a mean streak he is all too familiar with from his time in school.

He had been so sure you wouldn’t fit in when you first joined the team. You had been, and continue to be, perfectly made, every single hair shiny and curled just so, heels always so shiny and matching whatever designer bag you have slung over your shoulder. Everything about you screams high maintenance, and his profiler instincts point to several things: uncooperative, wants everything handed to you, ditzy.

But then you had shown your cards, had proved his assessment so wrong and he could never forgive you for the sting of that defeat.

It doesn’t help that you seem to enjoy riling him up as well. Every case is an opportunity to one up him, an attempt to claim his spot and it’s unfair. You already have everything, yet you still refuse to yield the title of team genius to him, the one thing he can cling to, the thing he knows is his.

He is still glowering today, four months into your employment, passive aggressively hitting the keys on his keyboard. He’s a slow typist, and he’d agreed to write Morgan’s reports for him this week, a favor between friends he’s now beginning to regret. You are the only one keeping him company. The rest of the team has already left hours ago, but you’re typing away at your desk, fingers flying through the keyboard without even a glance. His own skills seem laughable in comparison, going at the keys one by one, with the speed of an old grandparent squinting over a typewriter instead of a man in his twenties.

“Take a picture, Reid, it’ll last longer.”

He blinks, forcing his eyes back to the monitor. “You’re so original.” he mutters, pushing his glasses up to nestle on top of his head. He rubs his eyes, already despising the glare of the screen.

“Aw, what, the genius can’t handle a little blue light?”

He doesn’t bother with a response, blinking at the screen instead. The sooner he can get this done, the sooner he can leave. Sounds of tapping keys fill the air again, but he stops after a few moments again, rubbing at his eyes. He hears a sigh, and then your voice again, haughty but somehow concerned.

“You’re not supposed to rub your eyes, it makes it worse.”

“I know,” he grumbles, “I don’t need you lecturing me about the importance of eye health.”

“It seems like you do, since you’re still doing it.” you reply derisively. He’d be rolling his eyes if he isn’t too busy rubbing them.

“Here,” you say, “Catch.”

Confused, he lifts his head, only to flinch as something hurls right at him. “What-” it hits his desk, then bounces off.

“Oh, look what you’ve done, genius.”

“You threw it at me.” his lips are pulled into a tight line of disapproval, “A head’s up would have been nice.”

“I did, genius, I said catch. You just have the reflexes of an eighty year old.” your voice is tinged with annoyance.

To his surprise, you’re up and walking to his desk, heels echoing in the empty bullpen. He watches as you gingerly kneel on the ground, bending down, and his eyes grow wide. The image of you bent down like this is surprisingly enticing, your skirt straining against the soft curve of your hips, hair falling down your shoulders like a curtain of the night sky. You’ve gotten close enough that he can smell your perfume, something citrusy and clean, and he subconsciously leans closer.

Mouth dry, he manages to croak out, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find the damn eye drops.” you snap, an arm extending towards him and for a moment he holds his breath, waiting for contact. Instead, you grab something from the ground, “There it is.”

He watches as you straighten, lifting your torso upright, but still kneeling in front of him. An image flashes through his mind, your face between his thighs, those large eyes staring up at him, but he banishes it quickly lest his thoughts begin to stir his body.

“Here, these should help.” You say, finally standing back up and placing the tiny bottle on his desk. A filthy part of him wishes you’d get back on your knees. He catches the tilt of your head, the confusion in your eyes, “Reid. Are you still with me? Has your brain finally short circuited from all those statistics?”

Oh his brain is short circuiting, all right, just from a different cause.

“I’m - yeah.” he replies, and then he rattles off the first thought his frazzled mind could come up with, “Did you know some people have used eye drops as a method for murder? Not these ones, but there are specific brands that contain—”

“Tetrahydrozoline,” you finish for him, “Yeah, I know.”

He blinks. There you go again, proving your intellect, your value, somehow matching his even though he’s pretty sure you are no genius, not in the same way he is. Still, perhaps it’s the late night, or your offer of relief, but the sting of being bested doesn’t resonate tonight. A softer feeling unfurls in his chest, something warm and addictive, something like understanding. He smiles, “That’s right.”

You nod, curls spilling over your shoulders again, “Mhm. Well… These are for your eyes, I’m not trying to poison you.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you.”

A scoff, “Please, I’m not dumb enough to attempt murder in the office.”

His brows lift and he finds himself grinning, “So you’ve thought about it?”

“I will neither deny nor confirm.” you’re smiling now too, and he lets his eyes roam over the pretty lines of your face, memorizing how lovely you look in this moment, guards lowered and smiling at him with ease. He thinks he sees something flash in those pretty eyes of yours but he’s not sure. Reading people has never been his strong suit, regardless of his profession.

“Come on, I’ll help you.” you gesture at his glasses, and he immediately obeys, pushing it back up to nestle on his hair. He holds his breath as you come closer, bites his lips when your hand comes to his chin. It’s soft, unbelievably gentle, and you tilt his head back. From this angle, he can see the way your lashes curl, the soft hint of shimmer swept across your lids. Eyeshadow, he remembers from what Penelope and JJ have told him, and it highlights the shape of your eyes, making them appear brighter.

He blinks as coolness hits his eye, and then you’re tilting his head to the other side, and he’s trying not to panic, trying not to be a creep, but in reality, he hasn’t been this close, this intimate to a woman in so long that it’s messing up his ability to inhale, to think, to function. Your hair flutters gently around his face, and the scent of citrus is stronger now, heady, and he feels so light headed he’s afraid he’ll faint.

The same coolness hits the other eye, and before you can pull away, before he can think it through, he’s curling his own hand over your wrist. He lifts it up, pressing a kiss to the inside of your palm, admonishing any thoughts of germs and bacteria, and instead relishing at the tender flesh beneath his lips. He kisses your palm again, lips gently tracing the lines, before moving down to the inside of your wrist, before pausing.

He dares to peer up, waiting for a reprimand, a cutting sentence that would have him lashing back at you, but there’s none. There it is again, the flicker in your eyes, and now he finally knows the word to attach to it: desire.

He kisses the inside of your wrist again, and feels you pulse fluttering beneath his lips. Fast, to his surprise, almost matching the quick succession of thudding in his chest.

“Reid,” you whisper, and he waits again, allows you time to pull away. You don’t, but he’s apprehensive now, afraid he’s crossed a boundary. He definitely has, but he would do it again if you express the desire to do so, to tumble into whatever this is with him. He just needs confirmation, one verbal acknowledgement that you want this too, because he doesn’t trust his ability to read you yet, not when he’s spent so much time despising you.

But you’re just looking at him, and the embarrassment is almost painful. His cheeks heat up, and he drops your hand.

“I’m sorry.” he murmurs, sinking back on his seat. He’s about to turn to his monitor, intent to forget about this, forget everything even though his memory would make that impossible, but he finds his face being tilted up again, cradled between impossibly soft hands, and then there’s lips against his own, your lips, oh god you are kissing him.

He wraps his arms around your waist, following the movement of your mouth to the best of his limited ability. Your teeth dig into his bottom lip and he lets out an involuntary whimper, his body jerking at the sting. He feels you smiling against his mouth, cocky even in the midst of a kiss, in the midst of the most heated kiss he’s had since - since - he can’t even remember her, the brief dalliance he had with an actress once upon a time, because all he can think of is your mouth, and your hands, nails scratching at his scalp, and every single thought is expelled from his mind when you climb on his lap.

“God,” he moans in between kisses, his breaths ragged, but he would gladly drown in you before stopping.

“Not god,” you correct him and nip at his lower lip with more force this time.

“Mhm.” he whines, and kisses you again, shifting so you’re more comfortable on his lap. He wonders if the chair is creaking from your combined weight, but then you’re grinding directly on his cock and he’s lost in a haze of white hot pleasure.

Apparently, Spencer Reid cannot multitask, because his lips fall slack as you grind against his hardening cock. Your laughter tinkles in his ear, before your mouth latches on his jaw, down his neck, open and wet and sticky. He knows you said you aren’t god, and he’s never been religious, but he swears this must be heaven. Fitting too, in the same way he’s never thought he’d reach some place he doesn’t even believe in, he’s also never thought he would have you—beautiful, infuriating, untouchable you—grinding on his lap with a desperation that borders frenzy.

Recognizing that your need burns you just as his is making him reckless, he manages to whisper, “Tell me— tell me what to do. How do I make you feel good?”

You giggle, taking one of his hands away from your waist and leading it under your skirt. The fabric has bunched up over your thighs, and he grips the smooth flesh greedily. But you have other ideas, and he’s eager to learn, so he lets you move his hand higher, until the tips of his fingers brush against moist fabric.

His mouth goes dry. You’ve soaked through your panties.

“Like this?” he dips his fingers past the lace, his mouth falling open at the slick that’s gathered at your core. You have your face buried at his neck, lips and tongue still assaulting the tender skin there, but he feels you nod, feels the shudder that runs through you, and he takes those as a good sign. His touch is exploratory, gentle, fueled by an intoxication over the fact that you’re here and you’re enjoying it, you’re making those sounds for him.

He’s awestruck rather than cocky, and when he slides his fingers into your pussy, he’s immediately trying to figure out a rhythm that would draw out those pretty noises from your lips. When he finds it, he sticks to it, greedily drinking in your moans, no matter how muffled they are against his neck.

There’s a sense of degeneracy to this whole thing. Fingering his coworker in the office, right there on his desk, he could get fired should this get out, they both could. Still, he’s never truly had anyone want him so unabashedly and he simply cannot stop. You had been the one to kiss him, after all, the lines in the sand had been completely trampled by the time you had climbed on his lap.

“You feel so good,” you whisper, and he feels you move, riding his hand shamelessly, and he has to bite your shoulder to keep himself from whining again. The sight alone nearly undoes him, and you’ve barely done anything. He’s been actively providing you with stimulation this whole time, fucking you with his fingers relentlessly, and somehow, he wouldn’t change a single thing.

“Yeah?” he asks, pupils blown wide, wanting, needing the assurance that he’s doing good, he’s making you feel good.

“Yes, oh fuck, yes!” your voice grows sharper as he curls his fingers with every thrust. After a few moments of fumbling with your panties, his thumb presses against your clit and he’s rewarded by another groan from you.

He draws figure eights against your slick core, finding a rhythm that has you tugging at his hair wildly, and he’s whispering into your ear, pleading, “That’s it, please come for me, please, let me see how good you feel, please, please—”

“Spencer!” you groan, and then you’re shuddering in his lap, and his fingers down to his knuckles are wet with your slick.

He grins, helping you through your orgasm, pressing kisses to your hair, the FBI issued office chair creaking so much he’s afraid the two of you would break it if you don’t stop. The image is hilarious in its absurdity, making his grin widen, and you must have taken it for arrogance because he feels a slight smack on his shoulder.

“Don’t get cocky.” you mutter.

He takes you in, the flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, mascara now smudged along your lash lines, and he’s reverential instead of arrogant, grateful that he has brought someone so stunning and capable to the throes of pleasure, has taken you apart so much you’ve ruined your normally perfect facade.

“You’re beautiful.” he tells you, his own eyes glistening with an unfocused daze. You roll your eyes and shake your head, and he’s seized with a desire to keep you hear and bury his fingers inside you over and over again until you believe him.

“Your turn.” You chuckle, hands unwinding from his neck and travelling down the length of his abdomen, coming to the buckle on his belt.

“Wait, I—uh,” he turns beet red once again, clearing his throat, “Are you on the pill? I don’t have—”

You tilt your head, as if the idea of a man walking around without a condom is foreign. Perhaps it is, but Spencer simply never assumed he would have any use for it. He turns away, teeth worrying his lower lip, but you pull his face to you again.

“I have hands.” you say as you resume undoing his pants. You shift, then slink away from him, and he whines at the loss of your warmth, but he sees you on your knees once again, and this time it’s not just his brain making up lewd, inappropriate thoughts, “And a mouth.”

“Y-you really don’t have to.”

“I know,” you grin, pretty as the devil and twice as tempting, and as your hands wrap around his engorged length, thumb circling at the tip, “But how can I not, when you’re this pretty?”

He blacks out, he swears he does, there’s no way this isn’t a perverted dream, no way that you’re actually stroking up and down his throbbing cock. Somehow he comes to, only to feel a warmth, a wetness, enveloping the swollen tip, and his hips buck up instinctively. He whines when your hands push at his thighs, holding him in place.

“Please,” he gasps, babbles, really, “Please, oh god, that feels so good.”

You take him further down and he throws his head back so violently the glasses slip past his ears and clatter onto the floor. He feels your laughter vibrating against his cock and it almost has him keening. He whines, wriggles against your hold with no real desire to break free. He finds that likes the force of your hands on him, nails leaving harsh indents on his flesh as he struggles. The pain is delicious, heightening his already frazzled senses.

You bob your head up and down, your hair swaying gently, and he manages to will his hands to move, gathering the soft tresses in his hand so they won’t impede your movement. Your eyes flicker up, meet his own, and he swears there’s a thank you in the glint of them. He cannot do anything else.

Slack jawed, he watches you hollow your cheeks, saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth as you give him the best head he’s ever experienced. Never mind that it’s his first one, and that he doesn’t have a point of comparison. He’s convinced this is the best, you are the best, and he’s never been more thankful for his eidetic memory until this night, knowing that he cannot, will never, ever forget the way you look as you knelt down and sucked his cock like you were being paid to do it.

“God, you’re so pretty, oh my god, yes, just like that, please, please, yes.” he’s aware that he’s whining, and there’s an amused twinkle in your eye that tells him he would never hear the end of this after.

He knows you well enough to know that you would dangle this over his head any chance you get, that you aren’t above playing dirty. Instead of dread, it makes his stomach roil with another gush of desire, and he knows that that is even more concerning than whatever you were going to do.

(It never occurs to him to do the same, that he could tease you back and point out that he has had you on your knees and sucking on his cock like you were made for it simply because his brain cannot fathom ever associating the sight of you kneeling before him as something to be ashamed of.)

He’s drawn from his thoughts as he feels your hands cupping his balls, stimulating an entirely new area that has him thrusting up. He feels his cock brush against the back of your throat, and he pulls back immediately, eyes wide with worry as you gag around his length.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby you can stop if—”

But you do it again, soldiering past your gag reflex and taking him all the way, and he can hear someone saying oh fuck oh fuck I’m cumming agh, please, I’m cumming, and he thinks its his own voice but he’s unsure. His eyes are squeezed shut, colors exploding behind his lids as he feels your tongue swirling over and over his sensitive cock, before the cool air surrounds it, telling him you’ve stopped completely.

When he opens his eyes, you have your head on his thigh, cheek pressed against the fabric, a lazy smile on your ruined lips.

“God,” he whispers, reaching for you, wanting you close, “That was—wow, you—come here, please.”

He watches as a flicker of surprise flits over your face, before you mask it with a giggle, “Good?” you murmur, tucking his soft cock into his pants before climbing on his lap again.

“Incredible.” He holds you tight, your slick only half dry on his fingers, the taste of him still on your tongue, “You’re incredible.”

You’re quiet, contemplative, and he presses a kiss to your neck, wanting to bring you out of whatever funk you’ve gone into, “Hey, what is it?” He’s almost terrified of the answer, worried you would pull away and leave him cold.

“I just didn’t think you’d be a cuddler.” you reply, eventually sinking into his arms. Your voice is soft when you say, “Most men aren’t.”

The thought of her having experiences doesn’t bother him; it’s the fact that they callously left her after that makes him tighten his hold on her. “I’m sorry.”

“For the entirety of shitty men? You’d need more apologies than that,” you chuckle, fingers absently curling into his hair, “But thank you. This is— this is nice.”

“It is,” Spencer nods, leaning into your touch, eyes shut.

“You lost your glasses.”

“I did.”

Your laughter fills the air, “Hey, are you sleepy? You still have Morgan’s reports to finish.”

His eyes flutter open, a sheepish smile on his lips, “Why’d you have to remind me?”

“Because the sooner you finish it, the sooner we can do this again.”

Spencer laughs, kissing your shoulder as he relents, “All right, all right.” That’s more than enough incentive to brave staring at the monitor again.

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moonlightwritingf1 · 1 month ago

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“Merry Christmas, I miss you” | LN4

⋆꙳❅‧₊⋆☃︎ ‧❆ ₊⋆ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/n and Lando, who broke up two years ago, reconnect during the holiday season. Despite their past, they still have feelings for each other. They spend time together in London, rekindling their bond but agree to take things slow.

⋆꙳❅‧₊⋆☃︎ ‧❆ ₊⋆ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

⋆꙳❅‧₊⋆☃︎ ‧❆ ₊⋆ word count ━━━━━━━ 4.9k

⋆꙳❅‧₊⋆☃︎ ‧❆ ₊⋆ author's note ━━━━━━━ inspired by Merry Christmas, I miss you by Alex Crichton

The Christmas lights twinkled along Oxford Street as the hustle and bustle of London’s holiday season began to take hold. Y/n had been living in the city for over five years now, and although she’d grown used to the frenetic energy of the streets and the continuous flow of people, there was still something magical about the city when the festive lights went up.

She stood by the window of her apartment, gazing out at the scene below, the cold winter air making her cheeks flush as she sipped on her cup of coffee. The Christmas decorations in the nearby stores reflected the mood of the city: bright, vibrant, and a little nostalgic. Her heart ached with an odd mix of warmth and longing. It had been years since she’d last seen Lando Norris, but every holiday season, when the world slowed down a little, memories of him came rushing back.

Lando. His name was like a soft whisper in the back of her mind, one she couldn’t quite silence. She thought about the time they spent together, the good moments and the bad, the laughter and the silence that followed. Their love had been real, fiery, and undeniable. But it had faded, as things sometimes do, and they had parted ways. The reasons were complicated—too complicated for her to fully understand at the time. But the one thing she knew for sure was that she missed him.

It wasn’t just the moments they had shared, but the person he had been to her: the friend, the confidant, the person who made her feel special in a way no one else ever could.

She sighed as she turned away from the window and placed her empty coffee cup on the counter. The day ahead awaited—her 9 to 5 job in a corporate office, a world she had come to navigate with the precision of a well-oiled machine. She had a routine, one that kept her mind occupied, but it was hard to ignore the hollow feeling in her chest. It was that time of year again.

As she pulled her coat on and grabbed her bag, her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. It was a notification, an email reminder about a work meeting. She glanced at the screen and absentmindedly picked up the phone, her thumb scrolling through the lock screen—until something caught her eye.

It was a text message. An old message from Lando.

"Hey, it’s been a while. Hope you’re doing okay."

Her heart skipped a beat. Lando. Of all the things she had expected today, this was not one of them. She hadn’t heard from him in months, and yet, his words stirred something deep inside her.

For a moment, she thought about typing a response—something witty, something neutral. But then, the message before that came back to her: "I miss you." It had been sent in the middle of the night, just after their last conversation, one that hadn’t ended well. A conversation where they had both said things they didn’t mean, had both hurt each other in ways that only people who once loved each other could.

She hadn’t replied to that message, nor had he to hers. Time passed, and she assumed they had moved on. But in that moment, reading his latest text, something told her that maybe neither of them had truly let go.

She hesitated, her finger hovering over the keyboard, wondering if she should write back. But before she could make up her mind, the sound of her phone ringing cut through the silence. It was an unfamiliar number.

With a sense of curiosity and a touch of hesitation, she answered.

“Hello?”

“Y/n?” The voice was unmistakable, though it had been so long since she had last heard it. Lando.

Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected this. Not today, not now.

“Lando?” she asked softly, almost unsure if this was real or just her imagination.

“I know it’s been a while. And I didn’t know if I should call, but it’s Christmas and... I don’t know, I just... I miss you.”

His voice was filled with a quiet sincerity that hit her like a wave. She closed her eyes, the words he spoke reverberating through her, stirring up old emotions she had long kept at bay.

“I miss you too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. It felt like she had been holding those words in for years. And now, with them spoken aloud, the weight of the silence between them seemed to lift, if only just a little.

“I’m sorry for everything,” Lando continued, his tone raw, as if the apology had been waiting for this moment. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I... I just didn’t know how to make things right.”

Y/n’s heart ached as she listened to him. She had always known that Lando wasn’t the type to let go easily, but hearing him speak so openly about his feelings brought everything rushing back. She thought about their time together—how happy they had been, how natural it all felt. She thought about the last time they had spoken, the hurt they had caused each other, and the awkward silence that had followed.

“I think we both made mistakes,” she said softly. “But I... I don’t want to go back to that place.”

“I don’t either,” Lando responded quickly, as though afraid she might misunderstand him. “But I can’t pretend I don’t miss you. And I know you’ve probably moved on, but I thought maybe... maybe this holiday we could just talk. Even if it’s just for a bit.”

She sat down on the couch, her mind racing. There was so much to unpack, so much unsaid between them. But at that moment, all she could feel was the pull of his words, the familiarity of his voice, and the undeniable truth that she had never fully gotten over him.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice uncertain. “It’s complicated.”

“I know it is,” Lando replied, his voice gentle. “But what if we just... take a chance? What if we talk, like we used to?”

Her heart fluttered in her chest as she thought about it. What if? What if this was the opportunity they both needed to finally heal, to finally find closure? Or was it just a fleeting moment of nostalgia that would only cause more pain?

“I don’t know what I want right now,” she confessed. “But... maybe we can talk. I’ll be in London for the holidays. If you want, we could meet up.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her. But then he spoke again, his voice full of hope.

“I’d like that. More than anything.”

The days leading up to Christmas were a whirlwind of emotions for Y/n. She couldn’t help but replay every word of their conversation over and over in her mind. Lando. The man she had once loved, the man who had been her world for a short but unforgettable time. And now, after all this time, he was coming back into her life—tentatively, cautiously, but with an undeniable desire to reconnect.

It was strange. She had built her life in London, created new routines, new friendships. But Lando’s voice, his presence in her life once again, was like a piece of a puzzle she hadn’t realized was missing.

The day before Christmas Eve, they finally arranged to meet at a small café near Hyde Park. It was a place they had frequented during their time together, a place that held so many memories. She arrived early, her heart racing with anticipation and uncertainty. What would it be like to see him again? Would everything feel the same, or had too much time passed?

She sat at a corner table, her hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea as she waited. The café was quiet, decorated with subtle Christmas touches. The scent of fresh pastries and coffee lingered in the air, mixing with the soft sounds of holiday music playing in the background. It felt like a dream, like she was waiting for someone who might never arrive.

And then, the door opened, and there he was.

Lando.

He looked just as she remembered, though maybe a little more mature, a little more grown-up. He smiled when he saw her, that familiar, crooked smile that always made her heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but full of warmth. “It’s really good to see you.”

Y/n stood up, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You too.”

They stood there for a moment, awkwardly unsure of how to proceed, before Lando moved toward the table. He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I wasn’t sure how this would go,” Lando admitted. “But... it feels nice, doesn’t it?”

Y/n nodded, her chest tightening with emotions she couldn’t quite name. “It does.”

There was a pause, both of them trying to find the words to bridge the gap that had formed between them over the years. But in that moment, neither of them needed to speak. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just... familiar. They had shared so many moments of quiet together in the past, and somehow, it felt like no time had passed at all.

Finally, Lando spoke. “I’ve missed this. Missed us.”

Y/n swallowed, the lump in her throat growing. “I’ve missed it too. I’ve missed you.”

The words hung between them, a bridge across the years. Maybe they weren’t ready to dive into everything just yet, but this was a start. A chance to rekindle something that had never truly disappeared.

The café around them hummed with quiet conversation, the sound of cups clinking and the soft notes of a Christmas carol in the background. But for Y/n and Lando, everything else seemed to fade away. It was just the two of them, sitting across from one another in a small, cozy corner, each of them unsure what came next, but both silently acknowledging that this was something they had both missed.

Lando leaned back in his chair, his hands wrapping around his coffee cup as he studied her, as if trying to read the layers of emotions that flickered behind her eyes. Y/n met his gaze, her fingers gently tracing the rim of her tea cup, the warmth of it contrasting the chill in her heart. Time had passed, yes. But the connection, that undeniable pull, still lingered.

“I didn’t expect to see you again like this,” Y/n said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice was steady, but the truth of her words settled between them. “I mean, we left things... complicated.”

Lando nodded, the familiar ache of regret in his expression. “Yeah, I know. I’ve thought about it a lot. About how we ended. And... I’m sorry for that. For everything.”

Y/n looked down at her tea, feeling the weight of his apology settle on her shoulders. The past had been messy—too messy to ignore—but they had both been so young then. And people changed. Or at least, she hoped they did.

“I wasn’t perfect either,” she replied after a beat, her voice quieter now, the soft vulnerability in her words a stark contrast to her usual guarded nature. “I... I don’t think either of us were ready for what we were trying to make work. We were just... different people back then.”

Lando’s eyes softened, and he leaned forward slightly. “I get that now. But I think I always knew that you were someone who had the power to change everything for me. I never stopped thinking about you, Y/n. Not even after everything.”

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at his words. It wasn’t easy hearing that—especially after everything that had happened—but in a way, it felt like a balm to the wounds she had carried for so long.

“I never stopped thinking about you either,” she admitted, the confession leaving her lips before she could stop it. It felt good to say, but also scary in its simplicity.

Lando smiled softly, a hint of relief crossing his features. “Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to let go of the past. Because it’s still a part of us. Whether we want it to be or not.”

The honesty between them was tangible now, as if they were peeling back the layers of their past, looking at the pieces they hadn’t yet sorted through. But there was something new in their interaction—something lighter. As if they had both learned the hard lessons of their time apart and were trying to figure out where to go from here.

They sat in silence for a while, neither of them rushing to fill the space with words. The awkwardness was gone, replaced by something deeper, more comfortable. Y/n wasn’t sure what this meant—whether it was a one-time conversation or the beginning of something more—but she allowed herself to just be in the moment, something she hadn’t done with Lando in years.

“Do you still race?” she asked suddenly, the question escaping her before she could think about it. It felt like a way to bring them back to something familiar, something that had once defined their relationship.

Lando chuckled softly, his eyes brightening. “Yeah. I’m still driving. Actually, I’m back in the UK for a little while before the season kicks off again. Thought I’d spend some time here, you know, with friends and family. And... maybe catch up with a few people I’ve been missing.”

Y/n smiled at that. He’d always had a way of making everything sound easy, even the parts of his life that were anything but. The way his eyes sparkled when he talked about racing had always drawn her in. He had always been passionate about it, almost to an obsessive degree, and it had been one of the things that had kept her intrigued when they were together.

“Still the same, huh?” she teased, her smile soft and genuine.

Lando shrugged, a playful glint in his eye. “Some things never change.”

She laughed, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the laughter wasn’t forced. It was real. It was easy.

But then, the moment quieted again. The pull between them hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had only deepened. There was so much left unsaid, so much history that hadn’t been fully explored, and so much uncertainty about what lay ahead.

“I’ve missed this,” Lando said again, his voice gentle but full of emotion. “I’ve missed you.”

Y/n didn’t know how to respond to that, not right away. She could feel her heart starting to open, the wall she’d built around herself slowly crumbling. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected the conversation to feel so... easy. It was as if they hadn’t been apart for over two years. It was just them again, the two of them in their little bubble of comfort, surrounded by the noise of the café but not really hearing it.

“Lando, I... I don’t know where this is going. I don’t even know what I want,” Y/n said, her voice trembling slightly. “But I’m willing to talk. And maybe... maybe that’s a good place to start.”

Lando’s face softened at her words, his eyes full of understanding. “That’s all I can ask for.”

They both sat back in their chairs, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air, but the tension had lifted. It was as if they had taken a small step toward healing, toward whatever was meant to come next.

The conversation flowed after that, easy and effortless. They spoke about their lives since they’d last seen each other—about their work, their travels, the changes they had undergone in the years apart. The gaps in their story didn’t feel so wide anymore. They were talking, like old friends, and with each word spoken, it felt like they were putting pieces of the puzzle back together.

By the time they were ready to leave, the café had emptied out, the evening darkening around them. Lando stood and pulled on his coat, smiling at Y/n.

“Do you want to walk around for a bit?” he asked, his voice tentative but hopeful.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, glancing out the window at the lights of the city, the soft glow of the holiday season hanging in the air. She thought about her life, about everything that had led her here, and realized she wasn’t ready to walk away from this just yet.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling up at him. “Let’s walk.”

The air was crisp and cold as they stepped outside, the faint scent of winter hanging in the air. London had taken on a new kind of magic with the Christmas lights twinkling in every direction, and the streets were quieter than usual, as if the city itself had slowed down to take in the holiday season.

They walked side by side, neither of them rushing to speak but also neither of them feeling the need for silence. The walk was comforting, grounding, like coming home after a long journey. The cobblestone streets of London felt familiar, and yet, everything was new. They were different people now, two years older, two years wiser, and yet, as they walked together, it felt like nothing had changed.

“How’s Monaco?” Y/n asked, breaking the silence as they walked along a quieter street. She wasn’t sure why she asked—it wasn’t as if she didn’t know the answer, but it felt like something to start with.

Lando chuckled. “It’s the same as always. Beautiful, but a little lonely sometimes. The races take up so much of my time, but I like being there. It’s home, in a way.”

Y/n nodded. She’d always known Monaco suited him, with its fast pace and endless energy. It was the kind of place where someone like Lando could thrive. But she also knew it came with its own set of challenges. She wondered if he ever thought about what life might have been like in London, with her.

And then, as if reading her thoughts, Lando glanced at her, his expression more serious now. “What about you? How’s London treating you?”

“It’s good,” she replied, her voice soft. “I’ve built a life here, you know? It’s... not always easy, but it’s mine. I’ve got a routine now. I like the work I do, the people I meet. But there’s always a part of me that feels like something’s missing. Maybe that’s just the city, or maybe... maybe it’s something else.”

Lando gave her a small smile, the kind that spoke volumes. “Maybe it’s not the city. Maybe it’s... us.”

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at his words, and she stopped walking for a moment, her breath catching in the cool air. “You think so?”

Lando stopped beside her, his gaze steady but warm. “I don’t know what the future holds, but I know I’m willing to find out. If you are.”

Y/n didn’t say anything right away. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to dive into anything again, but the truth was, a part of her had never really let go. A part of her had always wondered what could have been if things had turned out differently.

She met his gaze and smiled softly. “Let’s see where this goes.”

And just like that, the future seemed a little less uncertain, and for the first time in a long time, Y/n allowed herself to believe in the possibility of something new—something that began with the past but could lead to something far more beautiful.

“Merry Christmas, Lando,” she said quietly.

“Merry Christmas, Y/n,” he replied, his voice full of meaning, as if he knew this was the beginning of something special. Something they would figure out together, one step at a time.

The next few days unfolded like a scene from a holiday film, the kind of perfect winter story Y/n had once only dreamed about. Lando stayed in London for the Christmas holidays, and their conversations continued to flow easily, the air around them charged with an electricity neither of them could ignore. They spoke often—about everything and nothing at all—reconnecting in a way that felt effortless, as though the time they had spent apart never truly existed.

But beneath the warmth of their rekindled friendship and tentative steps toward something more, there was a tension, a quiet awareness that neither of them was quite ready to put into words. They were getting closer, but old wounds, old fears, still lingered like ghosts between them.

It was a Friday afternoon, a few days after Christmas, when Lando called her out of the blue.

“Hey, are you free tonight?” he asked, his voice light, but there was a hint of something more—something he wasn’t saying.

“I think I can make time. What’s up?” Y/n replied, a smile tugging at her lips as she sat on her couch, the Christmas lights twinkling from across the room.

“I was thinking... maybe we could go out? A bit of a... celebration, maybe?” His voice was tentative, as if gauging her reaction.

Y/n paused. She had no real plans for the evening—her work had slowed down for the holidays, and she hadn’t had much to do but spend time with friends and enjoy the city. “Celebration? What’s the occasion?”

Lando chuckled softly. “Well, for one, it was Christmas. And two... we’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

It wasn’t just the words he spoke—it was the tone. There was something there, something deeper. He was offering more than just a simple night out. The invitation felt like an unspoken acknowledgment of what had been hovering in the air between them: the undeniable connection they still shared.

“I’d like that,” Y/n said, before she could overthink it. She wasn’t sure what they were to each other anymore, but she was willing to find out.

That evening, they met in the heart of the city, under the glow of a Christmas tree that had become a landmark in Covent Garden. The streets were quieter than usual, the chill in the air inviting people to gather indoors, but the lights above made the place seem like a winter wonderland.

Lando was already waiting when she arrived, standing near a bench, his breath visible in the cold night air. He wore a simple black coat over his hoodie, the casualness of his outfit a contrast to the sharpness of the racing world he lived in.

“You look amazing,” Lando said when he saw her, his voice full of warmth as he stepped forward.

Y/n smiled, grateful for the compliment but even more touched by the sincerity in his eyes. She’d never forgotten the way Lando could make her feel seen, truly seen, in a way that was both comforting and exhilarating.

“Thanks,” she replied, her heart fluttering slightly as she adjusted her scarf. She had dressed carefully for this evening—something simple, elegant, but casual enough to blend into the winter night. She didn’t want to overdo it, but at the same time, she wanted to look her best.

“I was thinking of taking you to that little bistro by the Thames,” Lando said, his hand gesturing in the direction of the river. “It’s a bit of a walk, but the view’s amazing at night.”

“That sounds perfect,” Y/n replied, falling in step beside him as they began walking.

The streets were quieter now, the hustle of the city fading into the background as they walked side by side, just the sound of their footsteps echoing in the air. It felt like a peaceful moment, the kind of evening that made you forget the weight of the world for a little while.

They talked about everything and nothing—about their favorite places in London, about friends they’d both known in the past. But there was a noticeable shift in the air between them. The comfortable, easy banter they shared was laced with something deeper now.

Lando would glance at her occasionally, his eyes lingering just a little longer than usual. And Y/n? She felt it too—the pull, the unspoken attraction that had been simmering beneath the surface. It was impossible to ignore, even as they tried to focus on lighter topics.

When they arrived at the bistro, the place was quiet, almost magical under the soft lighting and flickering candles. The Thames stretched out beside them, and the glow of London’s skyline reflected off the water. They were seated at a small table near the window, where they could watch the lights twinkle in the distance.

The conversation flowed naturally, but the undercurrent between them was undeniable. It wasn’t just the memories or the history they shared. It was the way their eyes met, the way their laughter seemed to carry in the air between them, the way the silence felt more like a shared understanding than anything awkward.

After dinner, they walked along the river, their breath visible in the cold air. The lights of London were beautiful that night, reflecting off the water like stars. It felt like the perfect evening—a perfect moment in time, and yet, there was still that lingering tension.

They reached a quiet spot near a bridge, where the view was uninterrupted, just the two of them and the glowing city around them.

“You know,” Lando said, stopping in his tracks and turning to face her, “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About us. And... well, I just wanted to say, I don’t want to rush anything. I just want to take things slow. To see where it goes.”

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at his words. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that until now. For all the uncertainty between them, for all the hesitations, it was clear that he wasn’t trying to push her into something she wasn’t ready for.

“I don’t want to rush either,” she replied, her voice softer now. “But I also... I don’t want to ignore what’s between us. I’ve missed this—this connection, this feeling.”

Lando stepped a little closer, his presence comforting yet electrifying at the same time. “So, what do we do with it?”

Y/n looked up at him, feeling the pull of his gaze, the electricity between them almost tangible. “I think we just... let it be. We let it grow, slowly. No expectations. Just us. Seeing where we are now, and where we could be.”

Lando smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made Y/n’s heart race in her chest. “I can do that.”

For a moment, there was only the sound of the water lapping against the shore and the distant hum of the city. Y/n felt like the world around her had slowed down, as if time itself was holding its breath.

And then, without thinking, she took a step forward, closing the gap between them. Their eyes locked, and before either of them could second-guess it, Lando’s hand gently cupped her cheek, and he leaned in.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if both of them were afraid it might break the fragile bond they had been building. But as they kissed, the world around them seemed to fade, and it felt right. It felt like coming home.

When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathless, their faces flushed with a mixture of warmth and vulnerability. Lando’s eyes searched hers, as if looking for confirmation, as if asking, Is this okay?

Y/n smiled softly, her heart racing in her chest. “Yeah. It’s more than okay.”

The days after that kiss were a whirlwind of emotions, both exhilarating and frightening. They spent more time together—lunches, walks through the city, cozy nights in watching movies. Each moment felt like a building block, a step toward something neither of them could fully name yet. But they were in it together, taking things slow, letting the past breathe and the future unfold in its own time.

New Year’s Eve arrived, and with it, the promise of fresh beginnings. Y/n and Lando found themselves at another celebration, this time with a few close friends. The night was filled with laughter, champagne toasts, and the feeling that something wonderful was about to happen.

As midnight approached, Y/n found herself standing next to Lando, the soft glow of the fireworks outside reflecting in his eyes. The year had changed, and with it, something between them had shifted. They were no longer just two people reconnecting after time apart. They were something more—something new, something they were building together, brick by brick.

“Happy New Year, Y/n,” Lando said, his voice filled with hope and tenderness.

“Happy New Year, Lando,” she replied, her hand finding his as they shared a quiet smile.

And in that moment, Y/n knew that whatever came next—whatever the future held—it would be worth exploring, together. With Lando by her side, she was ready to embrace whatever came next.

After all, sometimes the best things in life come when you least expect them. And this? This was just the beginning.

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #f1 x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #ln4

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reinersredemption · 9 days ago

Text

celebrity gossip | Tim Drake x Vigilante!Reader ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: while lounging on the watchtower, you decide to comment with red robin about gotham's newest celebrity gossip. masterlist

You’re lounging on the sofa in the Watchtower, the usual tension of crime-fighting missing in the quiet of the night. Red Robin is at the computer, eyes glued to the screen, but the city below remains disturbingly calm, the only sound filling the room was of quiet typing. It’s just the two of you for now.

“What are you doing?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Catching up on Wayne drama,” you reply, still scrolling through your phone without looking up. The glow from the screen lights up your face, casting an eerie, almost ghostly light. “Can you believe Bruce Wayne is already on his third girlfriend this year? It's like this guy is trying to break his own personal record or something.”

“Is that, like, interesting to you?” Red Robin's tone is flat, but you can hear the curiosity in it.

“I mean, you’re from Gotham, right?” You finally glance up, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t really escape it. They make sure it’s shoved down our throats every day.”

“I’m not really into it” He tries to keep his voice monotone, as if he doesn’t care about the situation.

He’s used to the media circus, it helps him and his family, in a way. The more obnoxious the Wayne’s are, the less likely it is for the public to think they’re Gotham City’s caped crusaders. I benefited him.

Yet behind his mask, hearing you talk about it made him a little tense.

Ever since you entered the team, he’s been interested in you, hell, he was into you before that. You’ve met before, but he never expected his high school friend to become a vigilante as well, although seeing you in your superhero uniform made his heart skip a beat. Ever since then, he’s been secretly happy every time you’re paired up in missions, he treasures the moments where you two talk alone.

“I mean, they’re obviously obnoxious with the whole out-of-touch rich guy stuff.” You pause for a second “Tim is nice, though. I went to high school with him, he was pretty down-to earth. I had a massive crush on him, too.”

Red Robin freezes for a second, his fingers stilling over the keyboard. You don’t notice the slight stiffening of his posture as he processes what you said. He returns to typing on the computer, trying to regain some semblance of control.

You shrug, leaning back into the sofa as you casually reply. “He was a charming nerd with all the gadgets and the brains. He was also really kind to me, so yeah”

"He sounds nice." He forces himself to sound casual, to play it off. He cringes a bit internally, it feels strange to talk about himself like this, besides that, is it weird that he wants you to keep talking?

“Yeah, we don’t talk anymore, though,” you reply, a trace of nostalgia in your voice. "I really miss him."

Tim’s mind stirs, his fingers pausing over the keyboard again, caught in the sudden surge of emotion—maybe it’s the way your voice seemed filled with affection when you mentioned him. He takes a slow breath, trying to push the knot in his chest aside, turning around in his chair to face you, abruptly changing the subject.

"What other gossip do you have there?"

"Oh, you have no idea!" Your face lights up as you prepare to tell him every useless information you've learned in the past few hours.

And as the night stretches on, with the calm of the streets below, Tim lets himself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something more.

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thef1diary · 8 days ago

Note

I've been thinking about cornstarch!daniel today. Is he doing like OF type of content because if he is...

It'd be super fun to see something about reader interacting with him trough the chat in the stream or maybe a private chat. Maybe she sends him a tip and requests certain actions on stream or something.

- 🍒

— yess he streams occasionally, mainly posting videos but when he’s there on your screen, live, it’s a whole different level of filth. 18+ content below

Dan didn’t stream often, but when he did, it felt like he was doing it just for you.

The timing was perfect. Right when you’d finish your day—settling into bed, bare under the covers, with nothing but your phone and your fingers teasing at your already damp folds—it would happen. A notification would light up your screen: Dan is live

You didn’t think too much about the coincidence; maybe you were just lucky. But tonight, the anticipation buzzed hotter under your skin as you clicked into the stream, quickly putting your headphones in.

The screen loaded, and there he was. His signature angle—a faceless shot of his chest, abs, and that insanely beautiful cock already hard and heavy in his hand. The lighting was dim, highlighting every dip and ridge of his muscles. His voice, rich and low, hummed through your headphones.

“Well, look who’s here,” Dan purred, a teasing edge in his tone. “Couldn’t stay away, could you?”

Your cheeks heated as you typed a reply in the chat—using both hands, leaving your cunt clenching around air—knowing he wouldn’t see your face but feeling exposed anyway. You sent a tip first—nothing too extravagant, just enough to catch his attention.

“Ah, a little something from my favourite,” he murmured, glancing at the screen. “You spoil me, baby. What do you want tonight? You know I like to make it worth your while.”

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, and before you could second-guess yourself, you typed: Stroke it slow. I want to see you tease yourself for me.

He chuckled, low and sinful, as if he’d been waiting for your request. “Mm, slow, huh? You’ve got a filthy little mind. I like that.”

Dan shifted slightly, reclining in his chair as his tattooed hand slid lazily along his length. He let out a soft groan, the sound vibrating through your headphones and straight to your cunt.

His movements were slow, deliberate, every stroke a display of restraint that made your thighs tremble. The slick, wet sound of his hand working over his cock filled your ears, syncing with the way your fingers teased your folds.

“Like this?” he asked, his voice thick with arousal. “You like watching me take my time? Imagining what it’d feel like if it were your hand instead of mine?”

Your breath hitched as he obeyed, his strokes deliberate and teasing. His thumb swirled over the head, smearing the glistening precum that dripped down the length of him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his hand pausing at the base before sliding back up. “I bet you’re already wet for me, aren’t you? I can practically hear you, baby. Legs spread, already touching yourself. Don’t be shy, moan for me.”

You obeyed instantly, his name leaving your lips in a breathless gasp as your fingers continued teasing your cunt. You swallowed hard, your other hand typing out another request sent with a larger tip: Talk to me. Tell me what you’d do if I were there.

Dan groaned again, this time louder, his hand tightening around his cock. “If you were here? God, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you. I’d lay you out on my bed, spread those pretty thighs, and make you beg for it. You’d look so good under me, squirming, all needy and desperate.”

You bit your lip, your fingers spreading your folds, gathering the wetness before smearing it all over your pussy. His voice was a lifeline, dragging you deeper into the haze of pleasure.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured, his pace picking up just slightly. “I’d bury my face between your legs first. Make you cum on my tongue before I even think about giving you my cock. You’d take it so well, wouldn’t you? God, I’d ruin you.”

Your moans spilled freely as you thrust your fingers in and out of your soaking cunt in time with the steady rhythm of his strokes on the screen.

But then, the attention shifted. Someone else in the chat tipped, their request popping up: Show me how rough you can get.

Dan obliged as he gripped himself tighter, his hips bucking into his hand. His groans grew louder, filthier, and your stomach twisted in jealousy. It was silly; this was a stream with all his followers, after all. But the way his focus shifted away from you stung.

Without hesitation, you sent an even larger tip, accompanied by a bolder request: Slow down, Dan. I want you to edge yourself for me—keep that cock dripping but don’t you dare cum until I tell you.

His laugh was low, almost incredulous, as he read your message. “Oh, you’re something else, aren’t you? Got me wrapped around your little finger. Fine, sweetheart. Just for you.”

He adjusted his grip, slowing his strokes, teasing himself with soft, deliberate touches. The precum glistened, trailing down his length, and his head tipped back slightly as he let out a guttural moan.

The chat buzzed with activity—other tips, other demands. Someone tipped for him to pick up the pace, another begged for his degrading words. For a moment, you worried he might shift his focus away again, but his eyes—those unseen eyes—seemed to skim past everything except for your tips and requests.

Each message of yours pulled him back in. Every time another name popped up in the chat, he would glance at it briefly, then return to the one that mattered. You could feel his attention narrowing, locking onto you as though he couldn’t help himself.

You tipped again, adding: Keep talking. I want to hear every filthy thing you’d do to me.

His strokes faltered for a moment, a quiet groan slipping past his lips. “Fuck, baby. You’re dangerous.”

He picked up the rhythm again, his hand sliding over the thick, veined length of his cock. Precum glistened at the tip, dripping down his knuckles as his thumb teased over the sensitive head. His groans were low and guttural, a symphony of pleasure that made your thighs quiver.

“You’re sitting there, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice rasping with need. “Touching yourself, thinking about me. You’d look so good spread out, your pussy dripping, begging me to fill you up.”

Your moans spilled freely now, your fingers sliding deeper into your cunt, curling and stroking in time with his movements on the screen. The wet, obscene sound of your arousal filled your room—sounds you didn’t pay attention to because his breathy moans and his words filled your ears.

The chat blurred around you, messages scrolling too fast to follow, but none of it mattered. Dan was fixated on you now, his pace shifting in perfect sync with the rhythm you’d set for him.

You were close, the pressure building like a tidal wave ready to crash. Your free hand trembled as you typed one final message: Cum with me. I want to watch you fall apart.

His reaction was immediate. His strokes turned desperate, his hips jerking into his hand as he worked himself toward the edge. The camera caught every detail—the flex of his abs, the way his cock throbbed in his grip, the beads of precum slicking his skin.

A low moan tore from his throat as he obeyed, his cock twitching violently in his hand. Thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles, dripping down his length as he rode out the waves of his orgasm. The sight pushed you over the edge, your body arching as you came, your moans mingling with his through your headphones.

For a moment, the world seemed to still. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, your body trembling from the intensity. Dan leaned back in his chair, his hand still wrapped loosely around his spent cock, his breathing heavy.

The stream ended shortly after, and as you lay there, catching your breath, your phone vibrated with a private message:

Jealousy looks good on you. But maybe next time, we skip the crowd. Just you and me. Private stream. You tell me everything you want me to do. What do you say, sweetheart?

want more pornstar!dan? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

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aventurineswife · 23 days ago

Note

Aww, no more Yor!Reader? Well, I guess it would have been overdone eventually. 😅

How about I share an idea instead about Reader acting as a lawyer/legal consult for Aventurine? (Bouncing off of my friend’s recent obsession with lawyer characters lol.)

So, Reader is a lawyer studying the laws of various worlds. Their work laptop is full of legal texts and documents, which they use to keep track of information gained and help make sure Aventurine doesn’t step too hard on someone’s toes. coughsunliketopazonbelobogcoughs

Reader is also partially the reason why Aventurine was able to get away with attacking the Astral Express — by taking his and Ratio’s witness accounts of their “meeting” with Sunday and the power of the Order being forced on Aventurine to brainwash him on threat of death within 17 hours. (I know I saw a post pointing out how Sunday basically broke diplomatic immunity by doing this, tho I can’t remember who. 🫠) Who can say for sure that Aventurine threatening to detonate a Stellaron wasn’t the result of (him struggling against) the Order influencing him? Reader can even point out that if the Family tried to go after Aventurine, Sunday’s actions coupled with the Family’s lying about death being impossible in the Dreamscape would be grounds for a counter lawsuit.

Emphasis on Reader partially being why Aventurine got away with his gamble. Even without Reader being Aventurine’s lawyer, the IPC’s got a fuck ton of money. 😅 Reader being there just makes things a lot faster and more convenient.

Reader’s pissed about Aventurine gambling his life like that, tho. 💀

“I TOLD YOU TO BE CAREFUL WHEN DEALING WITH [ACHERON] AND WHATAYA DO?! YOU GET FUCKING HAM-SLICED AND YEETED INTO A BLACK HOLE!!!!! 💢💢💢”

“Objection! Gambling with Your Life is Not a Legal Strategy!”

Summary: You find yourself grappling with the aftermath of Aventurine’s latest reckless escapade—one involving ham-slicing, black holes, and intergalactic legal battles. As his ever-resourceful and exasperated legal advisor, you’re left to clean up the mess while Aventurine, the ever-smug gambler and IPC executive, teases you with his charm. Beneath the banter, a glimpse of sincerity from Aventurine leaves you questioning whether there’s more to him than his reckless bravado.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Crackfic, Lawyer!Reader, Dubious Morality, Fluff and Angst, Overworked (and probably underpaid or not) Reader, Banter and Wit, Slow-Burn Romance (implied), Reader Yelling at Aventurine (deserved tbh).

Warnings: Mild language (Reader vents a lot), Legal jargon overload, Brief mentions of violence and manipulation, Reader and Aventurine arguing, Crack-level absurdity in legal scenarios, Aventurine's traumatic backstory hinted at but not deeply explored.

A/N: Thank you for your understanding 🙏💖 and I hope you like this! This may be a bit ooc and I mostly have forgotten a lot of things so yeah🧍‍♀️

You glared at Aventurine from behind your laptop, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you typed out yet another damage control memo. The smug blond executive lounged across from you in his plush office chair, one leg draped lazily over the armrest. His perpetual grin was as infuriating as ever, even with fresh bandages peeking out from the collar of his shirt.

"Really, darling," he drawled, twirling his peacock-feather earring, "I think you're overreacting. Things turned out splendidly, didn’t they? I'm still here, the Stellaron didn’t detonate, and Sunday's little 'dream empire' has a massive PR disaster on their hands. All thanks to your impeccable legal wizardry, might I add."

You slammed your laptop shut with enough force to make him flinch. "Splendidly?! You were HAM-SLICED, Aventurine. HAM. SLICED. And then YEETED INTO A BLACK HOLE! Do you even comprehend how many laws of physics, ethics, and basic sanity you violated in a single day?"

He chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "But you saved me, didn’t you? My charming legal champion, swooping in with airtight arguments and enough loopholes to make the Family’s lawyers cry."

"Don’t you dare flatter me right now." You jabbed a finger at him, your other hand pointing to the stack of legal briefs on your desk. "Do you know how hard it is to defend you when you keep pulling stunts like that? I had to argue in front of three intergalactic tribunals that Sunday's Dreamscape Order literally brainwashed you into threatening a Stellaron detonation!"

Aventurine leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "And you did it flawlessly. Honestly, I should hire you full-time. Leave that dusty legal research behind and become my personal strategist. Think of the fun we’d have!"

"Fun?" you repeated, incredulous. "FUN?! Watching you gamble your life away every other Tuesday isn’t my idea of fun, Kakavasha."

His grin faltered for the briefest moment at the mention of his real name, but he recovered quickly, standing and striding over to your desk. "You know I can’t resist a good gamble," he said softly, his voice unusually earnest. "It’s who I am. But having you there… knowing you’ve got my back? That’s the only reason I can keep playing the game."

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity. "That’s… disturbingly sweet," you muttered. "But it doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re reckless, irresponsible, and—"

"Charming?" he offered with a wink.

"Infuriating," you finished, swatting his hand away as he tried to steal one of your pens. "Now sit down and let me finish drafting this counter-lawsuit. If Sunday or the Family tries to come after you again, I want them buried so deep in legal hell they’ll be begging for the black hole treatment."

Aventurine laughed, a genuine, unguarded sound that made your chest tighten in a way you refused to examine. "You’re one of a kind, [Name]. I don’t deserve you, but I’m keeping you anyway."

"You don’t have me," you shot back, ignoring the warmth creeping up your neck. "I’m just here to make sure you don’t get sued—or sliced—again."

"Of course," he said smoothly, settling back into his chair with a self-satisfied smirk. "But I’ll win you over eventually. It’s only a matter of time."

You rolled your eyes and reopened your laptop, trying to focus on your work. But as you typed out another legal argument to shield Aventurine from his latest bout of insanity, you couldn’t quite suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

Maybe he wasn’t entirely unbearable.

#x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #crack fic #lawyer reader #dubious morality #fluff and angst #overworked reader #banter and wit #slow burn romance

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