#i feel like my life is so small and there’s sooo much i don’t know and haven’t experienced and might never experience and it’s just so craz

[thinkeroflovers]

my brain is just spiralling at the fact there is no objective truth in the world…if i’ll never know anything about anything then why am i alive?!?!?!😟😟

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sanemi lashing out on his pregnant wife only to beg her for forgiveness later

Pairing: Sanemi x pregnant!reader

Word Count: 3,1k

Synopsis: Like every week, you find yourself on your way back from Shinobu's estate and your pregnancy check-up. Little did you know what horror awaits you at your own home with your husband almost killing two kids...

Warnings: Sanemi is mean in this one and I mean it, extreme hurt but also comfort in the end so don't worry, full Shinazugawa package regarding language and violence lol, not proofread because I have to leave now

Thank you sooo much for that cool request @itsmscoco and I'm sorry it took a while. I really hope you like what I came up with 🤍

You rub your minor belly. For a woman, a pregnancy should feel like a trip to heaven. After all, you are blessed with developing a child that is half you and half your husband. Oh, your beloved and surprisingly gentle husband who always makes sure that you get enough sleep, that you nutrition yourself properly. But even the wind hashira can’t do a single thing against your constant sickness and pain.

“Please try this out, (y/n). Don’t hesitate to come here again if you need something else. You really have an unfortunate pregnancy when it comes to nausea”, Shinobu comments gently while giving your belly a little massage.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am so excited about the honor of caring for a child in my own body. But honestly, I’m so glad when this pregnancy is over”, you huff while taking a deep breath in.

Please, don’t vomit all over the insect pillar who’s just trying to help. You’ve been here what feels like everyday since finding out you’re pregnant. Well, to be exact, Shinobu is the one who suggested that you might expect a child.

Because of your never-ending sickness.

“Oh, there’s nothing to get wrong at all! After all, your pregnancy is a rather difficult one. But I’m sure Shinazugawa is taking good care of you!”

“He definitely does. My husband is an angel”, you reply in an instant.

You can’t wait to go back home. Even though your sleep-drunken eyes won’t be able to stay open longer than maybe a few hours, even though you weren’t able to catch a proper glimpse at Sanemi’s part in the on-going hashira training until now, you can’t wait to go back home. Back into your estate, back into the arms of your beloved husband.

“Not quite the codename I’d use for him, but that’s just what love does, right? I will send a kakushi along with you. Otherwise, Shinazugawa might show up and threaten me”, Shinobu jokes while helping you to get up.

“Thank you for your help. Again.”

You pull the insect hashira into a deep hug. How lucky you should consider yourself for the opportunity to call Shinobu your friend, that Sanemi laid his eyes on you. Out of all the countless women around, the ones with faces like porcelain and bodies so well-formed you can’t hold a candle against every single one of them. But still, he chose you.

“Come on, (y/n). Why are you crying?”, Shinobo whispers into your ear while rubbing small circles onto your back.

“I’m just a little overwhelmed from everything I guess”, you mumble against her comforting shoulder.

Just a few months ago, you would have laughed at anyone who told you that your life would turn out like this. Of course, you’ve lost countless good friends and family members on the way and living with a suborn husband like Sanemi isn’t always easy. But somehow, the two of you always make it work.

Right?

-at the wind hashira estate-

“We are almost there. Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m just a little tired from walking, that’s all!”

Truth is, your feet hurt like hell. Shinobu reported about women who don’t even feel their baby until the second trimester. Why are your feet already swollen, your belly bloated, your guts constantly turning? And there’s still so much ahead.

“Looks like Shinazugawa-sama received a new bunch of trainees after the other corps members all landed in Kocho-sama’s hospital wing”, the kakushi next to you comments dryly.

“Was it really that bad?”

Of course you heard about the rather brutal training methods of your husband. After all, even the walls of his estate aren’t thick enough to stop every single scream from reaching your ears. But still…

“It was pretty bad. Some of the-“

Glass cracking. Screams from afar. Out of instinct, you pick up your pace until you dash towards your home, sweat now dripping from every pore. What happened? Is Sanemi alright? He wouldn’t leash out on one of his students like that. Something must have happened. A demon? No, it’s still daytime. But what is it?

“He’s back! He’s back! That cold-blooded man! Lie down and pretend that you’ve fainted!”, a blonde-haired boy screams while almost collapsing onto the floor.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on here?”, you press out.

Your lungs threaten to fail you, breath already tasting like pure iron.

Until your eyes find Genya.

Your guts twist and turn in every direction, almost force you to vomit all over the place. Genya shouldn’t be here. Out of all people, it shouldn’t be him. And who’s the boy next to him. That familiar scar, you’ve seen that boy before. Is it possible that…

“Kamado Tanjiro”, you breathe out.

Maybe that is even worse.

Your eyes dart around the area without an aim. Where’s Sanemi? Did he find them already? They need to leave before he finds out that they’re here, carry on with another hashira training.

“Please stop now!”, Tanjiro suddenly shouts while stretching out his arm in defence.

An uneasy feeling crawls up your spine, the dark claws of sickening foreshadowing. All you can do is standing death still right where you are and watch in sheer horror as your husband stomps out of your estate motion.

Is that your husband you love and adore, though? You know how untamed he can get especially when getting confronted with his painful past. It was never easy for him to see Genya join the demon slayer corps or realize that his mother could have been saved like Tanjiro’s sister.

But never in your entire life have you seen him like this. The empty shell of your husband, muscles tensed to the maximum and his empty orbs directed towards the two boys in front of him.

In this very moment, you’d trust him to actually kill them.

“What are you going to do? Are you planning to kill Genya?”, Tanjiro continues passionately.

Your glossy orbs are set on your husband. Would he really do something like that? What if you witness the father of your unborn child taking the life of two other human beings? Your heart can’t take it, knees threaten to fail you.

“Hell no, I’m not going to kill him. It would be easy enough to kill him, but since it’s against the rules and all…I’m going to ruin him beyond recovery!”

Until your blurry head finally makes a decision and allows your feet to run.

Straight towards the two boys.

Straight into the firing line.

Straight into the sight of your now maniac husband.

“You won’t do any of these things, you hear me?”, you jeer at him with your new-found courage.

“(y/n)”, Genya breathes behind you.

“How dare you to talk to innocent children like that, Sanemi?”

The man in front of you furrows his eyebrows, hands clenched into tight fists while taking a step towards you.

“Get lost. Right now”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

You swallow hard, all nerves now tingling in sheer horror. This is the first and last warning, without any doubt. The look on his stone-cold face tells you more than urgently that Sanemi isn’t playing, that he doesn’t want you here.

Maybe it’s best if you go back inside and pretend that nothing happened. He himself said that he won’t kill them, after all…

“I’m not leaving”, you bite back.

But that would mean leaving Genya alone. That would mean giving up all of your principles.

“Will you act out like this towards our child as well?”, you continue while growing bigger and bigger in front of the two boys.

He might be your husband, the love of your life. That doesn’t mean you’ll always have to do what he tells you, tough. Instinctively, you clench your hands into tight fists with your glossy eyes almost piercing through him. Enough is enough.

“If our child acts as dumb as you do, I sure as hell will!”

Oh.

Your heart drops to the floor when a nauseous wave of agony hits you with full force. Sanemi is and has always been a hot-headed man who never thought twice about the things he said. But never, not even once in your entire relationship he insulted you.

Until now.

“Is this really how you feel about me? We should support each other, you should listen to me as well as-“

“Spare me with that bullshit, (y/n)”, Sanemi spits at you.

“Get.out.of.the.way. Can’t you hear me?”

It’s like you stop living for a moment. All this time, you did your best to understand him and his grief. Everything Sanemi does comes with a logical reason behind it, even though it’s hard to see from time to time. But lashing out at you like that?

“Stop being so disrespectful to me right now. I am your wife-“

“Right now, you’re my problem”, he jeers back.

“And now get off my sight and let me finish this real quick-“

You don’t know what made you act the way you just did. Was it his cruel behaviour, the way his words cut through your heart like a thousand knives? Before your husband is even able to finish his sentence, your palm races towards his cheek with full force.

The world around you goes silent, frightful gazes glued onto you while you can’t stop your tears from falling anymore.

“Is this how you’re acting around your pregnant wife by now, how you’ll treat innocent children? If that’s the live you chose, I’m not a part of it anymore”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, the urge to get as far away from him as possible becomes unbearable. Your feet start sprinting towards the estate on your own, carry you into your now so empty-feeling bedroom.

And finally, you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Is this really the man you love, that you’d give your life for? Your shaky fingers caress your belly mindlessly.

You can’t stay here. Not when Sanemi showed you a completely different face today. Not when this place doesn’t feel like home anymore.

-a few hours later-

“Fuck!”, Sanemi cries out on top of his lungs while dashing towards Obanai over and over.

Why can’t he get your stupid words out of his mind? The way you stood there with tears in your eyes, how he was literally able to hear your heart crack when those damned words left his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, to drag you into the fuckery with his little brother and that Kamado boy.

But why did he say all those dumb things, then?

“You seem off, Shinazugawa”, Obanai comments dryly, hitting the wind hashira with full force again.

“I guess I fucked up”, Sanemi mumbles.

What if you won’t forgive him for today? Your last words haunt him since the moment you left him standing in the rain.

“I bet you can talk your way out of it-“

“Hell nah. I don’t think she wants to see me tonight.”

“Did you ask her, though?”

“Who the hell do you think you are anyway? You’re the one to talk, not able to confess your feelings to Mitsuri”, Sanemi barks at the man next to him.

“But yeah, maybe I should get going…”

Coming home never fuelled him with so much fright. What if you’re still angry at him, if you refuse to even talk to him? Or even worse, what if you’ll really leave him?

Sanemi’s guts turn in an instant, feet now picking up their pace with every step. He can’t lose you. Not you, the light of his life. Not when you are the only ray of sunshine in this rotting hell. What the hell did he do? The fact that he even raised his voice at you is unforgivable.

Finally, his fingers grab the door that leads to your shared bedroom, finally he’s able to make up for his mistakes of today-

His eyes widen in sheer horror.

You’re gone.

Right there where your head should rest, there’s absolutely nothing.

Panic starts rising up his chest, forces his heart down his throat.

Did you leave?

He yanks out of your shared room, eyes roaming around each and every corner of your estate. But you aren’t there. You aren’t here.

“My lady is at the love hashira’s estate.”

Sanemi darts up immediately, greeted by the oh so familiar voice of your personal crow.

“Is she fine, why did she-“

“With all due respect, I suggest you to control yourself before making any more insensitive comments to my lady-“

“Who the hell do you even think you are you-“

“Your earlier spoken words really troubled her and my lady certainly does not deserve that.”

Without another word, your crow disappears into the darkness of night again.

Sanemi swallows hard. Fuck, did he really hurt you that badly? He never wanted you to feel bad, never wanted to hurt you. Damn, he only wanted to show Genya and that Kamado boy their places. It shouldn’t have hit you. Out of all people, why did he have to hurt you?

“I need to tell her”, he mumbles under his breath before dashing towards the love hashira estate.

-at Mitsuri’s-

“I can’t believe Shinazugawa said something like this to you, (y/n)! You are super far away from being dumb, after all! Here, eat another pancake and stay as long as you want.”, Mitsuri babbles while handing you another plate.

Your dry eyes are barely able to stay open any longer. All the grief, explaining, fighting and crying did apparently really wear you out. Good for you Mitsuri’s estate is near by and you just know she’ll always open her arms for you.

“Thank you so much for taking me in, Kanroji. I really don’t deserve your kindness”, you sniffle.

“You have to be joking, (y/n)! It’s my duty as your friend to be there for you anytime you need me! And also, I-”

Three violent knocks on Mitsuri’s wooden door almost send you over the edge. It’s past after midnight, the time closer to the morning than evening. Who would knock on Mitsuri’s door this late at night?

“Do you think that’s a demon?”, you mutter in horror, both pairs of eyes set on the door.

“I don’t think so. Let’s see!”

Before you’re able to stop Mitsuri, she rips open the door.

And reveals no other than your husband.

“Sanemi”, you breathe out.

Tears start swelling up your eyes in an instant when a flood of memories crushes you all over again. Just a few hours ago, your husband made very clear that he doesn’t want to see you again anytime soon. How did he find out that you’re here?

“(y/n), can we…have a talk?”, he mumbles with icy voice.

“Do you want to leave me?”, you blurt out.

“What?”

Is that really how you feel, what you think of him? That he’ll turn his back on you after a fight? He did say all those nasty things to you, though.

“I think I’m going out and…cook!”, Mitsuri announces while sprinting out of the door, leaving you alone in the room with all that tension and him.

Him, the man you love more than anything else in this world. And also him, who broke your heart like he never did before.

“You have to be kidding me”, Sanemi mutters under his breath.

You turn away before you lose your composure completely.

“Why are you here, Sanemi?”

“Do you really think I’m here to dump you!? You, my pregnant wife!? You can’t be fucking serious about that!”

In the matter of seconds, you find yourself surrounded by his usual so comforting arms that now hurt like daggers against your skin.

“Please, let me go, I can’t do this ri-“

“(y/n), please.”

His suffocated voice forces your eyes to dart upwards.

Instantly, your heart drops to the floor.

Is this really your husband, crying against your shoulder while pressing your body against his?

“I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve said, I’m sorry for making you feel this way. I’d never leave you, not when I’m even lucky for calling you mine. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this, I just…I just can’t stand them…”

“Sanemi…”

“And I get that I don’t deserve you and that I’m a jerk for hurting you. I know you could’ve had every man you wanted-“

“Sanemi!”, you snap at him, holding onto his face tightly.

“But you’re the one I want”, you finally cry out.

“But your words hurt me. Is this really how you feel about me? Do you really think I’m a burden?”

“I was out of my fucking mind for saying that to you! You’re my blessing, my everything, the sunshine in this rotting hell. You’re…You’re my wife, right?”

That innocent look on his now tear-soaked face runs shivers down your spine, reminds you that even though he acted out today, this man is still the Sanemi Shinazugawa you fell in love with years ago.

“I am your wife”, you press out before a new wave of tears haunts you down.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). So so sorry”, he mutters again and again while kissing every tear away that escapes your eyes.

“And I’ll never talk to you like that again, I promise.”

“Will you promise to not treat Tanjiro and Genya like that ever again too?”

Sanemi shifts his weight underneath you, his orbs growing hard again. Was this too much to ask for? No. Even though you love Sanemi’s rough side as well, he simply can’t do something like this again. Not when you’re his wife, not when you are expecting his first very own child.

“I will. But only if these jerks leave me alone”, he grumbles before giving you a passionate kiss.

“That might be manageable. I want to go home now…”

“No problem, I’ll carry you-“

“You really don’t have to carry me-“

“Oh, but I sure as hell will.”

“HAVE A GOOD NIGHT YOU TWO! AND DON’T ACT LIKE A JERK AGAIN, SHINAZUGAWA!”

“Did you have to tell her everything?”

“She’s my friend, Sanemi. Of course I had to.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

[parfaitblogs]

(totally not based on my day) but a simple request for spencer helping reader out with a bunch of chores bc she's overwhelmed with life and she decides to thank him with like the quote "best head of his life" and he's like "its okay you dont have to do that" and she's responds "but i am anyways"

it will come back ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid helps you when you're (very) overwhelmed, and you might need to return the favour.  pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: comfort & smut (18+ mdni) tags: oral (m receiving). praise. established relationship. reader's overwhelmed overstimulated overworked... very enthusiastic head giver!reader. use of honey and angel. they love each other a lot. i love them a lot. i don’t think there’s d/s dynamics but if there are it’s soft dom spencer (nobody’s shocked). word count: 3.1k a/n: thank u sooo much for reading my brain ily i need to give spencer reid head asap. new format/layout for requests sort of its the same as my normal post layout... do we like... i sure freaking hope so. as always lmk if u liked this or even if u didn't but preferably if u did!!

You were exhausted. For three weeks straight, you had been working nonstop, with a wondrous total of eight hours in between shifts. You were hardly sleeping, you had hardly had a social life, hell, you never even had time to enjoy the simple pleasures of an everything shower. You felt groggy, and cramped, and everyday felt like an awful repeat of the last. A nightmare that never ended. 

Never mind the fact that you hadn't seen your boyfriend.

Always home too late to be with him in the evenings, and up too early to get coffee with him before your days started. Spencer was so patient with you, regardless. He knew it would end eventually, and he would get his girlfriend back. It was just for the month, was what you would text each other whenever the other began feeling particularly lonely. He didn't even like texting, but the time for a simple phone call wasn't available to you anymore. 

And your apartment. Every time you stepped into it you swore a new dirty dish materialised in your sink, or a new pile of clothes sat themselves in your bedroom floor. Which was odd, because you had rotated between the same two outfits for the last eighteen days — your work uniform, or your pyjamas. 

You were overwhelmed with it all. Even as your hectic work life came to an end, and you were waking up to the sunlight pouring into your room, instead of an alarm clock while the moon was still up. You were acutely aware of the mess of your apartment, and just the thought of it all left you lying motionless in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

Tears stung your vision as you felt the seconds tick into minutes, and nothing happened. Attempting to will yourself to get up, and yet you simply couldn't. Exhausted beyond belief, with limbs sinking into the mattress and melding to the sheets. 

You faintly heard the click of your front door lock, and if you had any more motivation in you, you'd probably get up to double check it was the only other person who had a key to your apartment, and not a burglar. Thankfully, you didn't have to, for Spencer was calling out your name, gently.

Too exhausted to even reply and alert him of where you were, you lay still until he had found you in your bedroom, his bad dropping by the doorway, feet shuffling against the rug. 

"Good afternoon," he said, finding a seat on the edge of your bed, hand resting atop your thigh, gentle circles being rubbed into the skin. 

"Is it already afternoon?" you asked him, voice quiet. 

"Yeah. How long have you been awake in bed?" 

"I don't know," you answered, voice awfully small as you felt the thick weight of frustration with yourself blanket over you. "I need to get up. The apartment's a mess."

"It's allowed to be," he said. "You've been doing sixteen hour days."

"Yeah, but I'm not today. I have the day off."

"Your first day off in weeks. I'd be concerned if you'd spent it productively."

You stared at him, unsure if the irritation that settled in your bones was because of his insistence that you not doing a thing was okay, or your exhaustion. Logically, it would be the latter. You did know that, deep down. 

Upon seeing your eyes delve into something a little more desperate, he sighed, hand sliding up to your own, gently tugging you up into a seated position. His eyebrows knitted together at your exhausted look, and you could see his brain ticking behind his eyes.

"Do you want to split the tasks?" he finally asked.

"You don't have to," you shrugged your shoulders. "It's my mess."

"Honey, you're already overwhelmed, and all you've done is wake up," he answered, thumb drawing circles on the top of your hand that he still seemed to have clasped within his own. "Let me help."

"It's really gross."

"I've seen mutilated dead bodies."

"I'd argue my kitchen sink is worse."

"Oh would you?" his eyebrows shot up, lips twitching in amusement, that you found solace in, distracting you slightly from your overstimulated mind. "Do you want to have a shower?"

"Yes," you nodded your head, brain ticking over all the personal hygiene tasks you had been neglecting over the past few weeks. 

"How about you go shower, I'll start cleaning up, and you come join me when you're feeling better?"

Despite your aversion to anybody but yourself tackling the mess of your apartment, you knew better than to deny Spencer any further — he had set his mind on helping you. 

Sighing, you nodded your head in defeat. He had coaxed you up off the bed, gotten you to the bathroom, even found you a fresh set of clothes to wear, and waited with you for the water to warm up. It was really only once he was absolutely sure you had gotten into the shower, did he leave you be, and disappeared from the bathroom. 

Eventually, the apartment had been cleaned, with efforts from the both of you getting it to where it now was. 

You were a lot less exhausted, and your brain was a lot less fried now that you didn't have a million tasks catalogued within it to get done. 

You were lying in your freshly made bed — courtesy of Spencer. Your head on his chest, fidgeting with one of his hands as he used the other to wave around as he rambled about something you were no longer following. It had started as a simple explanation for why you had been so overwhelmed in the first place. Which you had asked as a rhetoric, but didn't have the heart to stop him when he began explaining. 

"You're not listening, are you?" he asked, free hand poking your side and emitting an involuntary laugh from you at the feeling. 

"I am, I am! I'm just not following anymore."

"Sorry."

"It's okay," you replied, turning and poking your head up to be level with his. "I like hearing you speak, anyways. Doesn't matter if I don't understand."

He only hummed as a response, and the two of you stared at each other for a beat, before you were breaking out into a smile. 

"Hi," you chirped. 

"Hello," he answered, perhaps a little too amused by your sudden energy. "Would you like something?"

"A kiss?"

"After all that labour I just put in for you?" he mused, but he was already lifting his head to brush his lips against yours, and was most certainly not pulling away when you eagerly connected them properly. 

You pulled back after a few moments, searching his face. "Do you want something for all that labour?"

His hand trailed up your spine, fingertips triggering a shiver to run up your back. "What do you have in mind?"

"I could give you the best head of your life."

He was clearly not expecting that as an offer, perhaps because you never had offered such a thing before. It wasn't even something you had talked about, which was bizarre (in your mind), considering he was quite enthusiastic about using his mouth on you. 

"You don't need to do that," he shook his head, but with how close your faces were, you could see the instant dilation in his pupils. 

"What if I want to?" 

"Then that's very nice of you, but my point still stands," he replied.

"Spencer, let me do something in return," your voice was nothing short of a whine, and if he was any less turned on, maybe it wouldn't have made his firm footed denial falter. Maybe you knew that.

"You could do anything but that."

"So a handjob?"

"Or that."

"You're such an awful liar," you huffed. "I can see your pupils dilating. I know you're turned on by the thought of it."

"It could just be because I'm looking at you," he answered, voice hoarse, no doubt from the arousal he was attempting to deny was there. "Romantic attraction triggers the same response in our hormones."

"But it's not."

He fell silent for a few moments, before he allowed his resolve to slip, shaking his head in agreement with you. "No. It's not."

"See! It's okay if you want it. I'm quite literally offering myself to you," you spouted. 

His eyes fluttered shut, and he exhaled through his nose, words coming out through almost gritted teeth. "That's not a sentence you should be saying."

"Why not?"

His only response was to say your name chidingly, and when he reopened his eyes, he was met with the shit-eating grin on your face. 

"Brat," he mumbled, lips seeking yours once again.

"Who gives really good head," you hummed against his mouth. "And would really love to show you."

"If you're insisting—"

"Which I am," you quickly interjected, staring back at him as yet another amused smile stretched across his lips. Then, he was nodding his head, and you were quite cheerfully kissing him all over again.

It wasn't that you kissed him with much fever at all — in fact, you were melting into his lips with a gentle hum. It was simply that he was kissing you back with a desperation you should be accustomed to. You weren't. 

Every kiss you received from him always felt like he was chipping away at your soul, claiming a piece of it. Maybe he was.

You mewled when his teeth nipped at your lower lip, and he was quick to take the opportunity of slipping his tongue into your mouth. Though, alerted by his sudden control over the situation between you two, you reluctantly pulled your face away from his before it could go much further. 

"Excuse me," he breathed out, scoldingly, only to be met with your hundredth grin of the day as you descended down his body. He'd take it — you smiling, albeit cockily, was much more rewarding than the concerned look you had been sporting for the majority of the afternoon. 

"I don't do this very often," you told him as you lifted your gaze to his, absentmindedly tugging his pants down his legs. 

"I hope not. You've never done it for me, and we've been together for quite a while."

"You know what I mean," you grumbled, and he was forced to poke his tongue into the inside of his cheek to keep the smile off his face. 

"Is this comfortable for you?" he then asked, having noticed your constant adjustments of your positioning between his legs. From nerves or comfortability, he didn't know. 

"Um. I guess so," you replied. "I've never done it lying down."

"We can do it however you prefer to do it, angel."

"Oh. Okay. Cool," you mumbled, sitting up straight and grabbing his hands within your own, tugging him over towards the edge of the bed. 

You sank to your knees on the rug, tapping his knees with your hands to part them so you could situate yourself comfortably between them. 

You were a vision if he'd ever seen one, and you weren't even doing anything. Perhaps you had noticed the effect you had on him, or maybe you were just largely enthusiastic about doing something for him, and only him. 

Your tongue darted out to lick your lips, eyes flickering up to meet his face, and if this was the last sight he saw before he died, he would have no complaints. 

"Have you ever gotten head before?" you mumbled, eyes fixated on him as your hands trailed up the sides of his thighs, resting at the waistband of his boxers. 

"Yes."

"Okay," you whispered, quietly, tapping his hips so he could lift them, and you rolled his boxers down his skin.

"Okay?" he parroted. 

"Okay," you confirmed with a nod of your head. "I just wanted to know if this is going to be completely new for you or not."

As you spoke, your fingertips dragged along his inner thighs, lips following soon after, kissing up the skin. 

"I don't think that's going to matter, honey," he answered, voice breathless. 

You smiled, not needing to ask what he meant. You lifted your head back up, studying his face. He gave you a nod, a silent confirmation to allow you to go further, and you took a beat to compose yourself. It's not like he would be mad at you if it sucked, but you had had a far too awful day to not do something good. 

You hadn't done this in a while, it was true. So your hesitance came more from your brain figuring out what it actually needed to do, than your insecurities (they were there too). 

Insecurities that melted away within an instant, for Spencer's thighs tensed beneath your hands that were now holding them apart the second your lips made contact with his cock, and through your lashes you could see his head tipping back. 

Your cheeks warmed at how easy it was to get him to respond, and you wondered if the satisfaction settled in your chest was anything similar to how he felt when he did this to you. 

You started hesitant. Gentle kitten licks at his tip that probably shouldn't have been garnering such a large reaction from him. But it was, and you had to preoccupy your mouth to keep the smug smile off of it. 

Wrapping your lips around the head, he lets out the breathiest moan you think you've ever heard come from him, and your mind goes hazy. Newfound blind confidence wills you to take more of him in your mouth, and it's a quiet 'Fuck' that compels you even further. 

In hindsight, he knew he'd enjoy it. It was you after all. He knew from the world shattering arousal that the simple sight of you on your knees was. He had, in a few short seconds, mentally prepared to enjoy this.

But not this much, and certainly not this quickly. 

"I've been too selfless," he muttered as you lifted your head back up, tongue licking a stripe up the underside of him as you did. When you met his gaze in question, he added, "I mean never asking you for this. I should've."

You hummed as a response (it was all you really could do), and the gentle vibrations shot heat throughout his body. A shuddering moan rocked through his body, and if not for your quick response time in pushing his hips down, they would've knocked against your face when he bucked them up.

You hollowed your cheeks, lowering your head back down, and emitting the loveliest of moans from Spencer, whose hand found its way to your hair. Upon the lack of your protests, he made a loose ponytail with his fist, gently tugging on it upwards so you could lift your head. 

You flattened your tongue on your ascend, successfully making his already weak grip on your hair go slack, within only seconds of him having grabbed it. Swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, his hips bucked up again, and you flinched. 

"Jesus—fuck, sorry, honey," he rasped, though his guilt was quick to dissipate as he saw your thumbs up against his thigh. Your movements weren't hesitant, anymore. Just slow. Tortuously slow. "Can I..." he trailed off, seemingly becoming unsure of what it was he was asking of you within seconds, but the retightening of his hand in your hair gave you all you needed to know. 

You nodded your head the best you could, and he mumbled a quiet 'thank you', allowing you to set a base pace, before taking over. 

"So good. Jesus Christ, angel. Where did you learn this? Don't answer that. Don't tell me. Shit." 

His rambling was sharp sentences, that didn't really sound like they belonged together, and certainly didn't sound like they should be coming out of his mouth. They weren't the most articulately structured phrases he's ever come up with. A thought that comforted you, because you were doing that to him. 

"Fuck," he breathed out, once more, and you came to the mental conclusion you've never heard him swear so much in his life. The thought made your stomach flip.

Fingers dug into your scalp, though not too harshly to hurt. In fact, you were letting out a quiet moan of your own at the feeling, hips wiggling. Even in his state, Spencer noticed, and he smiled.

"You—ah—okay, angel?" he asked you, and you relished in the fact that he couldn't get out sentences without moaning. 

Your response was yet another hum, and he was bucking his hips. Again.

You knew he was close for a multitude of reasons; the fact that he had quickened his gentle-turned-firm guidance of your head, his fingers tugging on your hair a little harsher than before, and the ever so lovely, "Jesus Christ—please—oh," leaving his lips, breathlessly.

It was a few more moments of that, before the fingers in your hair went impossibly tight, and the muscles in his thighs locked beneath your hands. 

The fact you had never discussed doing this, meant neither of you knew the other's stance on what to do. Thankfully, Spencer was rendered so frenzied that he couldn't do anything. 

It was a sickeningly lovely sight; you pulling back and swallowing, some of his come painting your bottom lip. His fingers twitched, before they dropped back to the mattress on either side of his body, his chest heaving just as much as your own. 

Lightheaded, you slowly brought yourself back up to your feet, and Spencer's arms were quick to wrap around the backs of your thighs, pulling you into him. 

"Best head of your life?" you asked, lowering your lips to brush against his. 

"By a mile," he replied. 

"Just one mile?" 

"Maybe two."

Shooting him a glare, you huffed, and he laughed. "You're never getting head again, then."

He nipped your lower lip. "Okay."

"I'm putting my foot down," you retorted, disliking his lack of belief in your words. "Never again."

"I believe that."

"You should."

"Oh, I do," he hummed, sarcasm in his words making you frown. "Are your knees okay?" 

If his goal was to distract you, he succeeded, for your eyes were instantly dropping to your knees, indents from the threads of the rug evident. 

"They're okay," you confirmed, squirming as his thumbs rubbed circles into the skin on your thighs. 

"Tell me if they're not," he instructed, and you nodded. He stood up, hands sliding up to your waist. "Shower?"

"Shower," you confirmed with a nod, despite the fact that you had showered only a few hours prior. "Can we watch a movie after?"

"Yes."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[ervotica]

“C'mere, sweetheart-“ & “Breathe, just breathe-" with finnick please 🤍

a life of our own

pairing: finnick odair x reader

summary: finnick helps you find yourself again when you’re rescued from the capitol. you’re desperate to trust him again.

warnings: hurt/comfort, a lil fluff, a lil angst, r was tortured and brainwashed in the capitol after catching fire (i got sooo carried away with this but i luv it! hope you enjoy, please remember to like/comment + reblog!)

hunger games masterlist

Your chest is red-hot with anguish; it’s all you feel lately. Confined to this white room, locked in, spending all your time waiting for something that won’t come.

Nothing is real anymore. Your life is a thick fog that you can’t decipher, can’t tell which bits of it are real and which were planted by the Capitol. They made you a weapon against the revolution, against Katniss and Coin and Finnick.

You know him, that much is evident in your unconscious reactions. The way your chest tightens and squeezes when he walks into a room, how your breath catches and you hunger after his touch despite not knowing exactly why. But you know that he’s familiar and that - at one point or another - you loved him.

He visits routinely like clockwork, every day at around the same time. And each time you don’t push him away, don’t flinch at his touch like you do the others, his confidence grows.

Your doctor has been practicing memory games with you, which parts do your life are real and which are fabricated. You repeat them in your head over and over and sometimes they slip out when you’re talking, too. You’ve been incorporating opinions on top of the basic facts you know, and you’ve been including what you know about him.

You rock on the bed with your knees to your chest, feet tucked underneath you as you recite everything you can remember about him. You mutter it under your breath, tongue clicking as you whisper.

The door creaks and you stop dead mid-sentence. Finnick slips in without a word, pulling a chair up to sit by you. He doesn’t miss the way you eye him warily, watching every movement, every tick of his jaw and twitch of his muscles. You’ve always been perceptive- it’s one of his earliest memories of you. How you watch people.

He sits and watches you in return; you trace every inch of his body with your eyes, the bruises on his arms, the points of his shoulders, the slope of his nose and chin, the curve of his jaw.

“Finnick,” you say. He smiles; his fingers rest on the edge of the bed.

“That’s right.”

You reach out to touch him; he stays dead still as instructed by your doctors, but lets you lift his hand to place it in your own much smaller one. You turn so you’re sitting cross legged facing him, holding his hand in your lap. His heart could burst with the way you’re looking at him, a cocktail of fear and longing in your eyes. Something else lies deeper than that, like you’re being pulled through the rubble of your own mind and to the surface. Something a lot like love.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice is small, more timid than he’s ever heard from you.

“Anything.”

“You love me. Real or not real?”

“Real,” he murmurs.

“I think I love you, too. I know I did before. I just don’t know which parts of my brain are real.” You fiddle with his fingers, the pad of your thumb rubbing over his knuckles methodically. If this is the only way you’ll ever touch him again, he’ll take it. He’ll take every scrap, every morsel of affection he can eke out of you. Whatever you’re comfortable with.

“We can figure that out together.” He’s soft as he speaks to you and it’s a voice that you remember. A very distinct one in your memory.

“Finnick,” you say again. He nods and shifts closer.

“Sometimes you call me Finn,” he starts, pressing lips to your knuckles. “Or honey. Or idiot if you’re mad at me.”

You smile and he catches a glimpse of you in there, engulfed by everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve been told. But he knows he can pull you out.

“I don’t think I’d ever be mad at you,” you mumble. He purses his lips thoughtfully.

“Well, sometimes I am an idiot. And I know you tell me that because you want to keep me safe.”

You’re in agreement there, not knowing everything but knowing undeniably that you would do anything to protect Finnick.

You shuffle over in the bed and tug at his arm. He tilts his head curiously, knowing what you’re asking but not wanting to be presumptuous.

“You want me to come sit up there with you, sweetheart?”

“Yes please.”

“Okay.” He settles himself next to you, legs outstretched where yours are tucked up tightly to your body. “If it gets too much, you tell me and I’ll go, okay?”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Then I won’t.”

You shuffle round and swing your legs over his own so you’re almost completely in his lap; his arm comes up and over your shoulders automatically, like muscle memory. This is how you are in your clearest memories- together, a tightly knit partnership. He’s holding his breath, waiting for you to realise what you’re doing and lose composure, but that moment doesn’t come. You just sit and close your eyes, ear to his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“I’m tired,” you croak.

“You want me to leave you to sleep?”

“No.” Your voice is thick and uneven where you’re full of all these new emotions that you can’t quite place. “Will you stay?”

“I’ll stay as long as you want.”

He pulls the thin blanket over your body and smiles as you needle in close to him, face in the juncture of his neck. Hiding with him instead of from him.

“C’mere, sweetheart.” You relax at the pet name, your body going lax against his own as you start to fall asleep.

You can’t be asleep for more than 30 minutes before you start to stir. You’re muttering in your sleep as you start to twitch and reach out for something.

Your brow knits and it forms a crease in the middle of your forehead as you start to cry.

“Honey, c’mon,” Finnick murmurs, his hand pressed to your neck in an effort to rouse you. “It’s just a dream.”

His chest aches; he can’t bear seeing you in this state, knowing there’s not much he can do to make it better. Thinking it’s his fault for not getting to you in time.

You scream and wake with a start, wide-eyed and frantic. Your eyes flit around the clinical looking room as you try to gauge your surroundings and reorient yourself.

“Honey, it’s okay. It was just a dream, you’re safe.”

You scramble back and push him away, curling yourself up into a ball at the foot of the bed. Tears paint your cheeks and they shine in the harsh white lights, hiccuping sobs. He crouches a metre or so away, palms up, arms outstretched in hopes you’ll make contact again.

“Breathe, just breathe,” he says. “You’re okay. I’m here, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

You’re like a wild animal the way you look at him- panic-stricken and agitated, frenetic in the way you move.

“Honey, it’s me. It’s Finn.”

You swallow thickly and nod, your body slowly starting to unfurl.

“Finn,” you sniffle, holding out your arms. “Finnick.”

He creeps closer still and you practically throw yourself into his arms, face against the hollow of his throat, arms locked around his middle like a vice.

“I have you. I’m right here,” he says, over and over like a mantra. A promise.

“I don’t wanna live like this anymore.”

“You’re not going to,” he whispers. “I’ll be here until you feel well enough and then we can start planning our life. Together.”

“Okay.”

Your fingers card through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, wet eyes meeting his.

“I love you. I know it now, I can remember that.”

“I love you too,” he says, craning his neck to meet your eyes. “You’re my girl.”

You’re hesitant as you tilt your head up to press a kiss to his lips but he welcomes it, his thumb and forefinger holding your chin in place as he pecks you a few more times.

“We’re gonna have a life of our own, I promise.”

“A life of our own.”

[halsteadlover]

𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐞?

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Female!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: a TikTok trend turns out to be the best surprise of your life.

• Warnings: few curse words and dirty talking, highly suggestive at the end.

• Word count: 1040.

• A/N: I don’t know how to feel about this one to be honest 😭 Let me know what you think and like, comment and reblog if you want. As always thank you so much for your constant support I missed you all so so much ❤️

“Hi guys!” You smiled, taking a step back to show your entire frame in the video. “Come here baby,” you called Charles waving with your hand and encouraging him to come closer to you. He wrapped his arm around your hip, leaving a kiss on your temple before bringing his gaze to your figures on the phone screen.

You were making a TikTok and you had finally found the perfect opportunity to follow the trend of calling your boyfriend ‘husband’, wanting to capture Charles’ reaction really bad.

“You look divine,” he whispered in your ear, his voice so low it was unlikely it registered. You giggled as you looked at him and leaned against his body, placing a hand on his shirt-covered chest and letting the scent of his cologne invade your senses.

“Sooo,” you continued, turning back to the actually absent audience. “I’m here with my husband, we just finished getting ready for the gala…”

You suddenly stopped, no longer able to keep a serious expression when Charles turned his head so quickly you almost feared he had broken his neck. You burst out laughing when he opened his mouth in disbelief, looking at you with a shocked expression you’d never seen on his face before.

“What? What’s wrong?” You laughed.

“What did you just say?” He exclaimed in amazement and you finally turned your gaze to him, your heart exploding in your chest noticing the dazzling smile he had on his lips as he looked at you.

You giggled again. “I said my husband…”

His hand gripped your hip, fingers pressing into the straws of your dress. “Fuck say that again.”

“My husband,” you repeated, now completely forgetting about the TikTok. “Does it bother you?”

“Bother me?” Charles took your hand that was still resting on his chest and directed it to his heart. You smiled as you noticed it was wildly beating.

I guess it didn’t bother him.

He pressed his lips to yours, sucking your soul from your body with just that contact. “Again.”

“You really like the way that ‘my husband’ sounds huh?”

“Mon dieu yes…” His lips trailed a trail of kisses along your jaw to your neck. “I want to fuck you so bad right now,” he whispered in your ear and you almost fainted.

“Alright, alright, enough…” you giggled as heat spread across your cheeks, remembering your phone was still recording. You pulled away from his grip and stopped the TikTok before Charles grabbed you again and pressed his lips against yours, this time without any inhibitory brakes and not caring about your meticulously cared for makeup. His mouth devoured you, possessing every fiber of your body.

“Oh god babe…” you breathed barely knowing what even was your name anymore. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Your husband…” He sighed “That was the hottest and sexiest thing I have ever heard in my life. What are you doing to me?” His hands roamed everywhere on your body, now uncontrollable as they groped your flash. “If I had known how beautiful it sounded I would’ve done it much sooner.”

“Do what?”

He reached into his suit’s pocket and pulled out a small box, an unmistakable little box which sight was enough to give you a heart attack.

You gasped, your hands over your mouth when he opened that little box and got on his knee.

“I know it’s not what you deserve, this isn’t how I planned for this to happen and I really apologize but I honestly can’t take it anymore baby. I’ve been carrying this ring with me for months now, always waiting for the perfect moment but it never seemed to be enough because I wanted to make the perfect proposal, just like you deserve… But… God… I also know as long as there’s you and me, everything will always be perfect, it doesn’t matter the time or place that’s why I was planning to propose after the gala, I had prepared…” he spoke, his eyes still fixed on yours. “Fuck it doesn’t matter now because hearing you call me your husband even if it’s just a trend on TikTok made me regret not doing this sooner and realize how stupid I was to wait this long. I can’t wait to hear you say it for the rest of my life, so…”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” You exclaimed jumping without even letting him finish his sentence, your face streaked with tears.

He chuckled, his eyes equally filled with tears. “You don’t even want me to ask?”

“Fuck hurry up and ask me so I can say yes a thousand times!”

He smiled and your whole world stopped.

“Mon amour, would you like to make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

“Yes fuck yes!” You screamed in hysterics and threw yourself into his arms, almost making both of you fall on the floor.

His laughter rang through the room and you found yourself leaning into him as he slid the ring along your finger, noting with so much joy it was exactly what you had always wanted and remembering how you had mentioned it only once a while ago and how he had remembered it.

You grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him until there was nothing left of the two of you but jelly.

“We’ll celebrate later baby, now get naked because I want to fuck you so bad I think I’m going to explode. And I won’t stop until you won’t even be able to walk out this room.” His hand tightened around your throat, squeezing lightly and enough to make you dizzy with desire, just how you liked it. His lips, red and swollen from your impetuous kisses, continued to caress yours, leaving you more and more impatient and eager.

“What about the gala?” You managed to ask, hoping he cared as much about it as you did. You just wanted to be with your fiancée.

I’m a fiancée now oh my god!

“I don’t give a damn about the gala or anything or anyone else other than my fiancée,” he replied and you mentally did a backflip. “The only thing I can think about right now is how good is going to feel to be buried deep inside my wife,” his fingers unzipped your dress, making it falling around your feet. “How good it’s going to see that ring wrapped around my dick.”

General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry, @halstead-severide-fan, @mrspeacem1nusone, @allivs, @omniaimy, @cursedashes, @kmc1989, @firetruckstuckley, @23victoria, @buckybarnessweetheart, @fanaticlove16, @ajordan2020, @multi-fandom-lover7667

Charles Leclerc tag list: @dallaav, @softicecr3eam, @halsteadbrasil, @bwormie, @ssprayberrythings, @mynameisangeloflife, @scaramou, @ironspdy, @earlgreyflowers, @rxclessmorgan7, @bubu40777168, @hiireadstuff, @lilithhs-world, @yujnrq, @aurora-maria

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Side blog -> @halsteadloverslibrary

[papaya-twinks]

heyyy kika!! Read so much if you already but weirdly never saw a sickfic sooo I had an idea😋

Maybe sick!Lando? Girl do you get it when you like KNOW you’re getting sick and you’re just emotional and cry and stuff? Maybe that with lando? Like having a stomach bug or something I dunno but definitely Reader being all sweet and caring.

Got this idea while I am sick atm soooo yeah!

Love love love your writing so so much🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Warnings: sick!lando

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - I know for a fact that out of my 300 fics on my blog, there’s at least 5 sick fics 💔

“Y/N, it hurts,” Lando said, for what felt like the hundredth time that day as he clutched his tummy, his cheeks flushed red, eyes glossy from holding back tears, his face pale. His head had been throbbing like a jackhammer all day, and he could basically feel his stomach twisting painfully.

“I know, Lan, I know,” you sighed, pressing a kiss to his temple as he whined again, his lip trembling slightly. “Make it stop,” he said, his hands bunched into the duvet as you sighed, pulling it over his body. “I cant, sweetheart, you know I’d take it all away if I could,” you said softly.

“No, coz then I’d take it back coz I don’t like when you’re hurt,” he mumbled into your chest as you rested your chin on his curls, a small laugh on your lips. “Yeah? That so, hm? You’d it f’me?” you asked, kissing his curls again.

“Yeah, obviously,” he said. Wow, the man still had sass after he’d just cried about his headache. “Can you take this f’me?” you pulled the medicine bottle from the side. “No, that’s a million times worse than this headache,” Lando declared dramatically.

“It tastes like puke,” he grimaced as you rolled your eyes. “Lando! It’s strawberry flavoured,” you argued as he shook his head. “No! It tastes like a hospital,” Lando argued back. “What does a hospital taste like?” you grumbled. “Uh…that!” he begrudgingly let you slide the spoon between his lips.

“Gross. I just lost years of my life,” he mumbled as he laid down on the pillow. “Alright, drama queen,” you put the bottle down, sliding in beside him, letting him pull you into his side, his face buried into your chest. “Let me sleep, now,” he said grandly.

“Good night, my queen,” you smiled.

[being-worthy]

Venom & Eddie Brock headcanons

I started this a while back and wanted to have it finished before the third movie, Venom: The Last Dance, would come out. Yet, it got sooo long that I decided to split the first headcanon into several parts (not quite sure how many there'll be).

I might consider doing another one after watching the third movie which would be about their life together during and after Venom 3.

I’m doing a little goal over on my Ko-fi to get some help with unexpected health bills! ✨Any help is super appreciated! 💖

Moodboard credits: Picture found on Pinterest. If someone knows who the creator is, please let me know as there was no name.

Here's the 1st headcanon part set during and after Venom 1 & 2:

To say that Eddie was surprised by your reaction when you saw them in their Venom form for the first time, would be the understatement of the century.

That said, they saved you from a mugger, although V had other reasons, too. He was intrigued by your sweet smell (it had something chocolaty to him, his words).

You were a bit afraid to be honest, after all, Venom is huge and broad, very broad and muscly, and don’t forget the shark-similar teeth. 😬

However, your fascination with V was bigger; wondering what his skin would feel like if you touched it, would it feel more like touching a snake or slimy like a frog? Also, how would it feel to be hugged by him? Does he radiate warmth when hugging?

You mustered all your courage together and asked them if you could touch their face. V squinted his eyes upon hearing your question and wouldn’t quite know what to think of you at first, it was a mix of ‘brave little morsel’ and ‘naïve little morsel’. Eddie was at a loss at hearing your request.

V indulged you and let you touch their face. Eddie just got along with it, not that he’s got much of a choice when V’s in charge, especially when someone else shows interest in him instead of running away screaming. You took the chance to explore his face with your hands thoroughly.

You were fascinated by him. His skin wasn’t slimy or like a snake’s; it was smooth and had a cool feeling on your hands at first, but it radiated warmth to your hands. afterwards.

You thanked them for saving you pulling on V’s arm quietly asking them to bend down a bit further. They did as you asked bending as much as possible to your height, once they were within reach, you lightly placed a small peck on V’s cheek and gave them a faint “thank you”, like this 👇

V’s milky eyes turned into two big saucers at the surprising gesture. They were so happy that you didn’t scream and run off like many before have done and even gave them a soft and warm kiss.

Eddie was also amazed by your reaction. He wasn’t sure if you were a bit crazy or the real deal.

V tried to convince Eddie to take you home with them, but Eddie reminded him that they can’t just “take” you or people in general with them. V annoys Eddie for the whole night for that.

They ensured you made it home safely as they insisted on being your bodyguard for the night and escorting you home.

After that night, they’d regularly bump into you claiming they were just in the neighbourhood, and so not making sure nothing bad happened to you, nor were they keeping an eye on you. This was the start of a beautiful and peculiar friendship.

To be continued...

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! Do not copy or translate my work plz!

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[deadgirlsnoring]

“Oh Tate, you’re so cute.” Your full lips swallowed his, a small squeak escaping his lips.

Your boyfriend was just the best, even though he was a ghost he was the most perfect boy ever.

“Mmph, fuc—mommy stop.” Tilting your head you frowned, eyeing the pretty little thing under you, “Aww, but bunny.” Your tone laced with fake condolence, “Don’t you like it when I do this?”

Tate gasped, quickly biting his lip to control himself while your hand rubbed his bulge through his boxers.

He was sooo hard, you could feel the heat radiating off him. Poor boy couldn’t stay still, he could feel it in his head he was so dizzy.

“Does it feel good, hm? Tell me. Mommy’s doing good?” Nodding his head while biting his hot plump lips made your panties drenched.

“F-feels so good, mhm I love it so much, please I want you.”

“You already have me.” In a swift movement you pulled his cock out of his boxers, the cold breeze sending chills down his spine, straightening his back out.

“F-Fuuckkk p-pple—Oh I know baby, I know.” His pre cum already lubricated his needy boner, it pulsating with every breath.

Your soft voice just gave him life, it sounded so smooth he just couldn’t get enough.

“Ah, more, more, moree. Shit I need it, c-can I have it mommy ppleassee?” Tate was chasing your hand with his hips, them rising up and down with every thrust of your hand.

“Shut up and keep going, you know, you look so pretty all desperate?

The boy was just so pretty, his slick covered along your French tip manicure, the purple blueish marks kissed all along his waistband.

“My baby looks like such a slut, don’t you think?” You leaned down to whisper in his ear, “I just love pretty sluts like you, you like it when I do this? Your body does.”

A whimper came loose from him, heavy pants following after, his eyes looking up at you with such adoration. “F-fuck, gonna cum, mm—mph I’m so fucking close.”

God, he was soo adorable.

Xoxo,

[ravengards-rogue]

i lose control (when you're not next to me.)

javier escuella x reader

✧ tags : afab + fem!reader (gendered language + wearing dresses etc), established relationship, religious imagery (maybe sacrilege)takes place in ch.4 of rdr2, submissive!reader, soft dom!javier, some spanish petnames (mi amor mi vida, and hermosa i think), pillowing humping, penetration, very lovesick sex lol, veryy established dynamic, praise kink, written like. sooo explicitly for @nanamimizz, 18+

✧ wc : 5.2k (after editing mind you)

✧ a/n : this is fucking nuts LMAOO. i wrote this like. no bullshit in a day. i don't know how that happened. mentioned in the tags that this is for my beloved best friend but i think it's still okay to post. im losing it a little. i have hw due in an hour

✧ synopsis : javier can't help but feel some ways about the way you miss him. so dreadfully obedient. so apparently needy. how could he not adore you?

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

There’s something a little pathetic in the way you pine after Javier that makes him a worse man than he is. 

He’s good to you though. Always. Down to his bones, the core of him. The soul of him. It’s hard to be anything but good to you. 

In all of his life, across lovers, men and women - he doesn’t think he’s met a single soul who simply likes him as much as you do. Who preens so pretty with so little, who doesn’t need much at all. Never met a woman who tucks and folds herself into corners just to be polite. Never thought he’d find it so fascinating, either - but you prove him wrong often. 

It’s testament to Javier’s adoration that he can’t help but notice you anyway. That even when your featherlight footsteps and darling voice fall off and get caught on the wind and blown away - Javier will still manage to find you. Even with all of your attempts to make yourself small and unrecognizable, his sharp brown eyes will still catch on the linen of your skirts and the threaded gold of your cross necklace. Javier’s own body betrays him in his love for you, in his wanting. 

Even though he’s not interested in pretending he doesn’t love you, his eyes and mouth and hands would look and call and search. They’d never give him the opportunity to be anything but in love. 

It’s important that he makes that known. He’s only ever interested in being a good man to you. Holding you and kissing you and worshiping you until you’re melty between his fingers. Javier loves loving the resistance out of you and you always make it so easy for him. 

He’s a good lover by nature and by practice. Passionate and maybe a little conceited, it’s not his first brush with romantics. He can only hope it’ll be his last. 

Even so, he’s never been liked the way you like him. 

You like Javier in a way you seem embarrassed by when you remember. It causes you to act in ways out of character on the surface, emboldened. Maybe just needy. Enough to bask in his praise and affection once a little liquor has touched your mouth. You like Javier in a way that makes you lovesick and puppylike, all honeyed gazes and pouty lips. He’s never met somebody who likes him the way you do, without grandstanding. Just pure, puppy love. Almost innocent if you don’t look too long. 

Almost being what matters most. 

Javier knows the way you were raised, after all. Knows the intimate ways in which you fold yourself and tuck your wants between the pages of your diary and slip your requests under your tongue. It’s hard for you to want for anything too much because you’ve been told your whole life that wanting at all is a sin. Wanting may even get you killed. A good woman should want nothing but salvation. Anything more than that is indulgence and there’s nothing good about that. It translates in the way you carry yourself. You’ll stop and fumble and shy away before even fixing your lips to ask, like you’re planning on being rejected or told no. 

A good girl like you being told no so often, it’s made you all sacrifice and empty prayers. Javier often feels grief about your lives before each other but nothing makes it so evident as that. A good woman, a beautiful and kind and soft one like you should never hear the words no without the best of reasons. That’s what Javier believes for all of his lovers, but you’re special. 

And that makes it worse. 

For you he’d do anything. No price he wouldn’t pay, no place he wouldn’t go, nothing that’s too far out of his reach. He thinks maybe he’s so eager to give it to you because he knows you don’t have it in you to take it yourself. You won’t whine greedily even if Javier tells you too, so Javier’s giving is only a partial virtue. It’s mostly pride, after all. It hurts his ego a little when you refuse to bask in the love he so enthusiastically wants to drown you in. 

Despite his complaints though, it’s a part of you that makes him so weak to you. That you want with such desperation but don’t allow yourself to take - so it makes you pliant and willing and terribly, adorably pathetic. You’re so weak for Javier. Just for him, you always say. Always with a hand in his, or wrapped around his bicep. All yours, Javi. Always his. 

That’s the thing. Javier wants to give everything in the world to you. He wants to be good to you, and he so often is. But you do things sometimes, all collapsed under the weight of your own desire that drive him insane. Make him act in ways he normally wouldn’t dream of doing. Depraved and filthy and unromantic in all senses of the word. 

It’s really not very polite for Javier to stand and watch you at his door - humping his pillow with weeps and huffs. It’s not kind to embarrass you. He’s a good man, and a good man would cover you with his coat and maybe smile about how much you care for him. 

But there’s just something about the look on your face when you do it, something about the tear stains in your lashes and the way your cheek is pressed in his jacket. Something about that needy, incessant little ache in your voice as you call and call and call for him. As if you’re hoping you’ll answer despite him not being there.

Javier is a good man to you. Maybe he could be better. Maybe he’s not good enough.  

He stands in the doorway of your shared bedroom with a soft, gentle grin. There’s no question he’s behaving a worse man than he is. Than he ought to be. 

He’s quiet as he shuts the door, balancing his weight to remain noiseless. 

Javier doesn’t particularly like being all the way out in Saint Denis nor is he fond of intel missions. The city is loud, the people unfriendly - though he likes the music and art. He prefers staying in camp if he can help it, but this big bank heist has everyone busy. He’s at least thankful that it’s given him an excuse to be with you. Your knowledge of herbs and poisons and the like have been helpful to gathering information. Been a lot of slipping things in drinks and making people forget. The sort of dirty work he’s accustomed too, while also getting a chance to be with you in a place with four walls and a bath. A dream for the future, maybe. 

It’s been nice, but he’s been out now for two days - out in the streets gathering information about Bronte’s people. A bunch of lowlifes just like them, but with their hands in the pocket of the city. He’s only been gone for two days, so there’s no reason you should miss him this much. And yet he hears it anyway. And it pleases him, truthfully. 

He takes off his coat as he listens to you at the doorway. Shrugs the middle-weight material of his sheen suit jacket over his shoulders and lays it on a chair, takes off his wingtip-gaiter shoes, undoes the yellow puff tie from around his neck. Nothing but a white linen dress shirt and the dark black slacks he’s been wearing for days now, some parts covered in bloodstains he only barely managed to wash out in the river not long ago. 

He’s thankful he took a bath before getting in now, listening to you moan. His hands being clean feel like a blessing - just his luck. 

He manages to remain quiet as he steps into the main room - a single bed in the center. Javier finds you there in a heap as he rests his body along the wall of the entrance to his right. He crosses his arms over his chest as he takes a minute to take in the scenery, admiring the soft lowlights and the way they cast shadow on your body. 

The wooden bed frame creaks slightly as you rut your hips. You’re out of it, Javier can tell, since you’ve yet to sense the fact he’s come in. The paintings along the back wall click against soft red walls themselves, over and over in an arrhythmic tic. Javier tries not to laugh. Gives himself a minute to admire the moment for what it is, the vulnerable desperation of your lust. He has to get over the disbelief, too. Over the fact your face is buried in the open part of his bluecoat and that you’ve got a hotel pillow(his hotel pillow) between your legs. One that you’re humping so frantically he can’t help but feel sorry for you. 

You’re making a mess.

You are a mess. The way the white chemise falls over your back and hips, and the lack of finesse in your gestures. If Javier had to bet money on it - he’d bet money on the fact you probably didn’t start this way. He figures you nested with his coat and pillow to go to sleep and then worked yourself into something senseless and desperate. And he’d figure if he didn’t show up, you wouldn’t cum at all. You’d go to bed all frustrated and tired and just wait for him like always. 

Any man would be pleased by it, he thinks. And a good one would never embarrass you about it. Javier tries his best. Weighs his options, but the words slip from his mouth before he can think to stop them. 

Pure elation in his words wrapped up in a smug delight. “Aye, hermosa - you’re gonna ruin my things you know?” 

Your reaction is what he expects. You jump out of your skin first, sitting straight up. Javier bites back a laugh as you do, big wide eyes like a deer caught in the scope of a rifle. You look around the room, worried you’re imagining him. Once you’ve come back to reality enough to realize he’s real and tangible - all the neediness washes right back into your expression. 

“Javier,” You sniffle and god. Javier hopes the heavens are more merciful to him than he is to you. “Javi,” 

“I’m home,” He voices in a partial tease, walking towards you. He can tell you want to run to him. To crawl into his arms and lap and collapse there forever, but the dull throbbing between your legs is stopping you. “I would ask if you missed me but, somehow I get the feeling you did.” 

You let out a soft, sniffly whine as Javier sits in the bed next to you. He turns his body to face you a little better but keeps distance. You turn your face towards him. Javier cups your cheek in his palm, eyes tracing your features. Your lips are bruised like you’ve been biting on them to keep the noise down and your eyes are wet with tears, red stained in the waterline. His thumb brushes along the thin skin of your lower lip, clicking his teeth at you. 

“Look at you,” He reprimands, his voice tender as he leans in to give you a little relief. You kiss Javier too eagerly, impatient and lacking your usual timidness. It’s how he knows how far you’ve fallen. How simple and easy your reactions are. “You’re going to hurt yourself pushing so desperately,” He laughs again, a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Does it feel good, at least?” 

“It’s better when you do it,” You admit, falling forward. Javier doesn’t let you drop, but he doesn’t comfort you right away either. He laughs and lets a hand rest on your lower back, relishing in your reaction. You shiver, sensitive and overstimulated with so little at all. 

“I know,” He coos with as much faux-sympathy as he can manage. “Couldn’t wait for me a little longer? I’m hurt.”

“Nooo,” You draw the words out, pitiful and upset “I’m sorry. I missed you,” 

“It’s okay,” Javier says, knowing he wasn’t mad in the first place. Not even a little. “Ahh, what should I do with you now, do you think?” 

It’s hard not to laugh at the immediate noise of disapproval. He’s sure you’d be able to ask him for what you want if he coaxed you into it. One whispered word of tell me what you want, and you’d be begging for his cock with ease. Filthy words from such a pretty mouth, he likes the idea. 

But he’s feeling… something. Something on the border of sadistic and loving that has him instead thinking. 

Pretending to think. 

“Maybe you should keep going, hm? You’ll think clearer once you’ve let it out, don’t you think?” 

“I can’t,” You bemoan, pleading with him. “I’m trying but it’s—it’s not enough, Javier, please.” 

He shakes his head. “Oh, man. What am I gonna do with you? Should I help you, mi amor?” 

You nod your head rapidly. As if he’d ever leave you out to dry when you look all pretty helpless. He doesn’t mention it to you. “Please,” 

“Yeah? I’ll help you then.” He offers, taking your hand and guiding you to his lap with his legs stretched out. He sits you over his thighs, glancing back at his jacket and pillow, brows raised when he sees how sticky they both are. Your habit of drooling and your cunt soaking his pillow case, he laughs just a little seeing the state of them. You must notice because you hit his shoulders weakly. “So needy,” 

“Javier.” 

“Alright, alright,” He laughs again, kissing your cheek as he brings you to him. You frown but comply with his handling of you, strong hands pulling you over his thigh. He sits you down until your bare cunt is pressed against the clothed muscle. It dawns on you what he’s doing as he’s doing it, a noisy little whimper sounding as Javier pulls you close. Close enough to wrap your arms around his neck. He puts a hand on the back of your head, encouraging you to bury his face into the space of his shoulder. He can feel the relief in you when you do, slumping into him a second time today. “You have to move on your own, you know? I won’t help you.” 

“You’re being awful,” You say with no real malice or bite. 

“I’m a little hurt, that’s all. And I’m helping you aren’t I? Is that not what you want?” 

You groan against the skin of his neck. “I want your…ngh,” 

He hums against you, decides to be merciful since he’s teased you plenty and he’s going to tease you more. 

“Wanna feel me right here, don’t you?” He puts a hand between your bodies, pressing the back of his hand into your stomach. “I know, I know. But I want you to cum like this first.”

“Can’t do it by myself,” You sniffle. Don’t even try to push back, so obedient and willing. Javier hums sympathetically. 

“I’m here right? I’ll help you, mi vida. I’m not that mean, am I?” 

You shake your head no. He most definitely is, but maybe he can keep that a secret from you a little longer. 

“Here,” He says. Javier pulls your chemise up until it’s pooling at your waist. Strong, tan hands hold at your hips, squeezing the soft skin with a warm sigh. You keen immediately. He pushes his thigh up just slightly to give you the right kind of friction. Hiccuping in his lap, he sets a pace for you to grind yourself on him. A slower back and forth. When you get too wet, too needy - you get sloppy. Sometimes he can give it to you hard and fast but you’re sensitive. Sensitive to the point it’s easy to make you hurt, make yourself hurt if you’re too clumsy. 

You’re always chasing pleasure but you don’t know anything about build-up. For a girl who tends to keep to herself and is always so meticulous - there’s something about seeing you get so sloppy that turns Javier on. When you’re wet and can’t think straight “Not too fast, okay? You’re sensitive, need it slow at first to make it feel good if it’s like this. Did you forget?” 

You nod, then moan hotly against his throat. Javier shivers at the way your tune changes. He can feel you breathe in his scent and relax as he guides your hips. He eventually stops touching you. Lets you take control of the pace just like he shows you. You manage to pace yourself despite how much you want to cum. Javier can feel how pent up you are. The fabric of his slacks going sticky, tacky from cum and arousal. 

You smell nice and soft, like baby powder and something floral. 

Javier’s been hard since he got in the door, but it’s starting to fog his mind up. Feeling your tits press against his chest, feeling your skin against his. Soft and pliant and beautiful. He kisses against your shoulders as you slowly start to build your orgasm up again. Not that it’s hard. 

You pull away from him, briefly - and your face makes his dick twitch. You’re always pretty but you’re especially pretty like this. Drool drips from the corners of your mouth, eyes lidded and barely blinking.

“Javi,” Your words are slurred. Javier laughs but doesn’t clean you up. “Kiss me,” 

“Sure,” He replies, though he’s all too happy to do it. Javier kisses you with tongue. He knows it’s what you want. Your hands curl up at his chest as he brings his own to cup your head and pull you to him. His tongue in your mouth is invasive but precise, knowing all the ways you want him to nip and kiss and suck on your mouth. You whine in complete pleasure, drunk from the sensation and he’s hardly touched you at all. 

He thinks of how he’ll fuck you as he kisses you. He’ll touch you more than he is now and you’ll fuck like lovesick rabbits until sunrise. It’s less something Javier decides and more something he knows. Like once he opens the door to pleasing you like this, it’ll be tough on him to close it again. 

“Javi,” You keep calling his name. It might be the only word you remember. Always seems to be when you get like this. “It feels so good. Feels so good when you touch me,” 

Javier kisses against your bare shoulder and neck, teeth scraping soft against your clavicles. “Mm. You’re doing well. A very good girl today,” 

You shudder at the praise, all the hairs on your neck raising from the drop of it. Javier laughs. You whine his name again but he doesn’t reply. He can feel you more than he can see you. Your body is twitching against his thigh and your muscles are tight where you hug against him. Javier calms you. 

“Gonna cum soon, huh?” 

You nod over and over, but can barely keep your head up to do it. And he laughs, full of fondness and affection as he peppers your face with kisses. He doesn’t have it in him suddenly, to tease you about it any more. He encourages you instead, hand on your hips to give you more friction as you start to grow erratic in your breathing. You pant hard against his ear, like you’re chasing something. Little bunny rabbit, he thinks. Your voice is little more than a croak. 

“Oh,” You moan, loud and helpless and needy as you cling to him. Your hands fisted in the back of his shirt as you cry out his name one more time. A prayer, maybe. Or a curse. Something in between. “Javier, oh,” 

“Shhh, that’s it. Just like that. Good girl. You’re so good to me.” 

You weep into his neck as you cum, your whole body tightening before breaking out into aroused shakes. You’ve completely lost it in front of him. On the brink of insanity with nothing but pleasure filling your empty-head. You hump against him thoughtlessly as you ride out your high, then finally lean against him when you’ve managed to reach the end of it. You don’t move. Javier can feel how big the wet patch of his pants has grown and tries not to laugh. 

You’re only barely coherent when you’ve finally pulled away. Your pupils are blown out and your face is flushed, sweat making your hair stick to your skin in the places it’s not tucked away. Javier laughs at the state you’re in, brushing his thumb along your cheek just beneath your eyes. 

“Are you with me still, do you think?” 

You nod, seemingly exhausted. He laughs again and kisses your temple. 

“Want you,” You say, despite your state. His eyes widen again at how soon after you’re asking him. He was planning on taking his time, but that plan might just be out of the race. He’s not above you begging him so sweetly. “Please, Javi. Need you, need you so bad.” 

You sound like you’re about to cry. He speaks in soft murmurs. “I thought you’d be too tired to keep going right away.” 

“No,” You mumble and shake your head. “Please. Please, want you so bad.” 

“You’re exhausted, mi vida.” 

“Please,” 

He chuckles. “Okay. Okay, don’t cry. Whatever you want, remember. Unbutton my shirt for me, mi amor.” 

You sniffle, your hands shaking as you fulfill his request. You’re exceptional at listening. Javier smiles at you, your eyes meeting as you do. You flush and pout, only barely managing to maintain his gaze without looking away. You unbutton his shirt dutifully. He puts a hand on your arm and rubs it soothingly. “You must’ve missed me a lot, huh.” 

You nod. “It’s bad, you know? Two days shouldn’t feel so long. It didn’t use too.” 

“Just means we love each other,” Javier assures, a safe place for you to express your neediness. “That’s nothing bad,” 

You nod, pressing your forehead to his. “That’s true,” 

“See? And it’s nice you know. Having someone miss me. Wait for me. Makes me want to come home instead of, I don’t know.” He feels his throat tighten at the sincerity but pushes through anyway “Dying for the cause. Or even just because.” 

It’s the first time you’ve smiled all day and god. Might be the only thing that’s ever mattered. Above all forms of love prior and past. Above revolution. Above god. Just you. You smile, happy and elated and keep unbuttoning his shirt with a coquettish-ness to you. Comfortable and safe. 

You help Javier out of his shirt, and wait for his approval to go after his pants. Undoing the buttons, you free his cock from the confines with a soft gasp. Javier laughs at the reaction, cat-like grin on his features. 

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”  

“It’s so big,” You say, your hand wrapping around it briefly. Javier swears, head against the headboard. 

“Careful,” He warns, laughing thickly. “I’m pretty pent up too,” 

“Want it inside me,” You say so easily it startles him. You blink up at him through your lashes, too pretty for your own good. “Please?” 

“Should open you up a little.” 

“Want it to hurt,” You reply instantly. Javier feels his breath hitch. 

“Oh, fuck.” He breathes, trying to keep himself from cumming in your hands. “We’ll go slow.”

You nod quickly, not wanting to wait any longer. Javier curses himself for not being more polite. 

He guides your arms around his neck, his own arm around your waist as he lays you down on your back. You look up at him, surprised by his handling of you but not upset by it all. You mumble something he doesn’t catch, but it sounds pleased. 

Javier finds that he’s fond of missionary. He didn’t think he was the type, but there’s something about seeing you laid on your back that he likes. Likes being able to look at you and be close to you, to whisper sweet nothings in your ear as you curl into him. He lays you down gently on his spine, laughing at the way your legs wrap around his waist the second you’re comfortable. His hands go up under your knees but don’t push you too far. You spread your legs for him naturally, eyes fluttering with exhaustion and leftover stupid want. He looks down at you and smiles. 

“One more, okay? Just the one.” 

“I can’t,” You whine “Too sensitive. Just want you to cum on me,” 

“Are you doubting me?” He challenges, only partially. Your eyes widen and he chuckles. “Of course you can. One more,” 

You whimper, suddenly realizing you had no choice in the first place. But you nod, relenting to him like you so often do. Javier kisses you. It means more things that he’s comfortable telling. Means thank you, and that he’s sorry, that he loves you. He kisses you one more time after that, and smiles at how happy you seem because of it.

Finally, when Javier lays you down on the sheets beneath you - it feels like finding religion all over again. The loose material of your chemise has given up on covering you, exposing the soft mound of your chest and hardened nipples. He can see your neck and shoulders and everything else above and below. You’re so beautiful his cock twitches again, hard. 

He sits back up on his knees and takes a deep breath as he lays his cock against your puffy folds. You breathe soft, an aching sound from the back of your throat as you pull your skirt up to give him better access. He laughs gently at that, examining how nearly seven inches measures up to you and feels a little dizzy in the process of it. He’s done this with you so many times now, practically trained your body to take him without too much trouble. A welcome change from when you could barely fit the tip, too inexperienced to do it but even more determined. 

Even still some part of him worries about it. It’s not enough to stop him though, not nearly. His cock twitches against hard, wanting for you. He looks down at you and sees you stare up, admiring his figure. He laughs. 

“Like the view?” 

You nod. “Mm. Uh-huh.” 

“I’m glad,” He replies, then adds “Deep breath,” 

So you take a deep breath, and Javier pushes the tip of his cock into you with a loud grunt. You’re so soft. Wet, and pliant and soft around the swollen head of his cock, he can’t help but shudder with relief and desire. Can’t help but grit his teeth and grip onto your hips to steady himself. 

You breathe like the air has been punched out of your lungs, saying his name dreamily. “Oh, Javi,” 

He swears under his breath, something incoherent as he pushes the tip push into you evenly. It’s not easy. The resistance is there, but you don’t whine in pain right way - so it means it’s not too hard on you. Perhaps loosened by the previous orgasm, or simply so needy that it doesn’t bug you. Still, Javier makes sure to keep himself tight. He rocks, back and forth, ignoring the agony of that sensation to keep him from thrusting up into your soft, welcoming cunt. If he listened to what he wanted, he can’t be confident it wouldn’t make you ache. He already knows you will with this much. 

It takes a few minutes, and some whimpering from you before he finally manages to bottom out. 

You feel good. God, you feel good. 

He can’t imagine heaven, but he thinks being inside of you might be close enough. There’s certainly all the makings of religion when he makes love to you. You, a soft and loving deity, and him - a man laden with sin who longs to be saved. It makes sense to compare you that way. And it feels just as euphoric as the always described, being wrapped in you. Being part of your completion. What's religion without worshippers, anyway? 

Javier groans as he bottoms out inside of. When he manages to peel his eyes open and look at you, you’re debauched. He’s debased you this completely and he doesn’t know if you can even tell. He laughs, leaning down to kiss your neck and run pecks against your jaw. 

“Feel good?” 

“Feels so good,” You moan, then hold him tighter. “I love you. Love you Javier,” 

“Me too, mi amor. Para siempre. ” He hums, kissing your forehead before looking at you. “Can I move?” 

“Please,” 

“Touch yourself for me,” He tells you patiently. “Make yourself feel good.” 

You nod, dazed - a hand between your bodies as Javier sets a pace to fuck you. He knows you in and out. At least well enough to know exactly the ways to make you feel good. Only a few thrusts for him to find the perfect pace, perfect rhythm, perfect spot. You make a noise like a songbird, deep in the back of your throat and Javier can feel you pulse around him in pleasure. 

You stay like that, with him. Javier fucks you to his hearts content in deep, long thrusts - angled against the softest parts of you and wanting to make you feel good. He whispers sweet nothings as your nails dig into the muscle of his back. You feel good for him. You are good for him, wet and perfect. It takes all of his strength to fuck you consistently, the bed rocking underneath you both as he gives it to you hard. 

“I’m close,” You whimper, not seeming to believe yourself despite. “I’m so close, oh god, Javier.” 

“That’s it,” He whispers, chuckling against your skin “One more. Just one more and I’ll give it to you.” 

It’s the promise of his cum that drives you over the edge. You gasp and groan, shuddering as Javier pounds you through your second orgasms. He groans as he feels your pussy spasm and tighten around him, practically begging him to put it inside. He’s nearly lost his sense enough to do it, unhelped by the way your sweet voice begs him for it. He practically has to pry himself away from you, out of you to keep himself from cumming inside as deep as he can possibly go. 

He manages, barely, to stave off his own orgasm. Long enough pull himself out of you with a broken gasp and cum outside of you. Making a mess of your stomach and your soft, swollen cunt with his seed. He paints you in thick ropes of whites as he swears loud in the process, euphoria rumbling through him uninterrupted. 

“Fuck,” He moans, finally getting to the end of it. A little embarrassed by how much of a mess he’s made right along with you. “You do something crazy to me, you know that?” 

You stare at him, bleary eyed and giggly despite your exhaustion. “I know. Me too. I missed you,” 

He laughs, and can’t find the words to say anything but the same back. Of course Javier is a worse man when you’re around. 

Any man loved this much is bound to be a little ruined. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[unsolvedjarin]

just you wait sunshine.

pairing: (sebastian vettel x driver! reader)

summary: sebastian’s retirement has led him to reminisce his past life and mistakes, including you. little does he know, the universe is about to give him a second chance via a small bookstore in switzerland.

note: this went on WAYYY longer than i wanted it to be and it didn’t really go the direction i wanted either, but we move

content warning: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, more sebastian centric than reader centric tbh (sorry i just love him so much)

word count: 3.7k

Retirement had been good to Sebastian.

He’d finally been able to spend time in his farm house, plant some trees, grow a garden, and along with all that, still have time to drive cars whenever an event needed him to. It was like his entire life schedule magically cleared up in front of him.

He missed racing of course, he won’t pretend that he didn’t. After all, he spent 15 years in the sport, it was his pride and joy for quite a long time. But that time of his life is over, he’s accepted that. He wanted to enjoy the other things in life instead, be able to see and experience things that the busy life of being a driver didn’t let him experience.

Sitting on a chair in his porch watching the sun set, he reflects on what he could have done differently. Who he could have treated differently. And when only one name enters his mind, the same one that’s haunted him for the past 5 years, he sighs reluctantly and heads back inside to prepare his dinner.

—

2012

“What do you wanna do when you grow up?”

The question takes you by surprise as you take another swig of your beer. The moon shone brightly on the porch of whatever airbnb your team had set you up at, and the stars were sparkling like they had never before.

“What kind of question is that, Sebby?” you giggle. “Isn’t this what we’re gonna do for eternity? Racing?”

Sebastian shrugs, looking up at the sky on his foldable chair that you had brought on the trip. “Yeah but after that, you know? I’ve always thought about what my life will be like after retirement.”

“Okay old man, because you’re sooo close to retiring,” you tease. He gives you a playful light shove for that, smiling as he does. The air feels freer and lighter than it ever has before.

“But seriously,” Sebastian chuckled. “Have you ever thought about it?”

You ponder for a second before replying, “No, not really. I mean my career’s just starting, I haven’t really thought about the end. But when I do retire, I think I’d like to be a writer.”

“Like those egotistical types to make a biographical book about themselves?” Sebastian asks, earning a laugh from you. The sound made him feel things that he’d only ever felt before with you.

“God no,” you laugh out. “I don’t wanna be like those old blokes who get obsessed with themselves after they retire. I just wanna write fictional books, maybe under a pen name. Just a simple life; me, my theoretical dog, and my theoretical book.”

Sebastian nods with an understanding look in his eye. He wants that life too. A simple one, away from the public. Even now at his young age, the paparazzis and press were getting annoying quickly.

“I want to live in a house far away from the city,” he says. “Maybe the suburbs— no that’s too near…a farm! I’ll live in a farmhouse.”

You smile at the thought of Sebastian Vettel, two time Formula 1 world champion, just lounging about in a farm tending to his animals and crops.

“Wouldn’t it get boring? Or lonely? Milking your cows alone?”

He answers you with no delay, “Well I’d want you to be with me of course.”

You thanked whatever higher power was listening at that time that he couldn’t see how your blush formed over the darkness of the night. Regaining your sense of self, you reply, “What makes you think I’d want to go with you?”

“Wouldn’t you?” he asks genuinely. “You could write your books inside while I…I don’t know what type of farm I’ll make, exactly. But I’ll be tending to that and you can write your books with your theoretical dog.”

“It’ll be our theoretical dog, then.”

Sebastian replied with a soft smile, “Ours, then.”

—

He had settled on bees. Having a bee farmhouse. It wasn’t easy work, it was definitely more complicated than milking a cow like you had said, but it made him happy, and it made him content.

Well, as content as he could be.

You had your first kiss that night, Sebastian recalled. He remembers because even though you didn’t think it, he could see the red blush dusted lightly on your cheeks, a sign he made the right choice leaning in and making his move.

Preparing his dinner for one in his cozy yet lonely farm house, he realizes he could have had this all with you. If he had just been more kind and if you had forgiven him, you could have had all of this together. A life that both of you had always wanted.

—

2018

“Sebastian, I’m not asking you to retire or something, I’m just asking you to take a break, please,” you beg. He remembers your exasperated voice as clear as day.

“I can’t take a break, Y/N, you don't understand. If I don’t get at least podium in this race, that's it, my career is basically over.”

Scoffing, you replied, “Your career isn’t over just like that, you’ve still got another year with Ferrari for christ’s sake.”

“You wouldn’t get it,” he mumbled, opting to turn away from you and put on his racing gear instead.

He’d been distant the whole season, the tension between the two of you increasing and increasing that finally it just snapped this race weekend. He’d been icing you out, acting like you didn’t exist because he was ‘practicing for the races ahead.’

At first you understood, you were a driver too. You recognized the difficulty of always losing race after race, how after a while it took a toll on your mental wellbeing. So you gave him space.

Then, when that didn’t work, you tried reaching out, helping him. It was the worst mistake of your life. Every time you tried to talk to him, to ask him what was wrong so you could help, he kept pushing you further and further away, acting like you were getting in the way of his work, sometimes even getting angry.

That went on for the whole season, until finally today, on qualifying morning, you snapped and demanded he talk to you.

“What the hell do you mean ‘I wouldn’t get it’? I have the exact same job as you,” you accused. You’d been patient for months and his vagueness was starting to get on your nerves.

Whipping his head around angrily to face you he replied, “You don’t have to reach the same standard as I do. I have to constantly prove I’m the best, and you constantly prove to be a midfielder.”

Oh.

Oh.

That was a low blow, even Sebastian knew that. Your relationship had been teetering on the edge for the past year, but this was a make or break moment, and he knew exactly which one of the two it was going to be.

“So it’s like that,” you decided with a tone of finality. Sebastian wanted to ask for your forgiveness right then and there, to apologize, to make up for the last few months of being an asshole, to beg you not to throw away your years together just like that.

But he knew he was in the wrong, and he was too stubborn and egotistical to apologize.

Sensing the silence from him, you nod with teary eyes you tried so desperately to stop from flowing freely. Sebastian wanted nothing more to wipe them away, to hold you in his arms, but he never could do it.

“This is how you want it to end?” You asked him. It was a genuine question. You were giving him one last choice, one last chance to make up for how he’d been treating you the past year.

He stayed silent.

“Enjoy your fucking career, Vettel.”

—

He won that race. It was his first win of the season, but he felt like he had lost the championship itself as he stood on that podium, eyes looking for you in the crowd like he usually did, finding you absolutely nowhere.

After your argument he tried to talk to you in the paddocks but you constantly avoided him, the act not being hard when he wasn’t allowed inside your team’s hospitality building nor paddock. That fight was the last sensible conversation with each other you ever had.

You retired the year after that. You moved out quietly from your shared home, and he heard you stayed with Jenson for quite a while. He couldn’t blame you, Jenson had always been kind to you— Sebastian had no place to be jealous.

Hearing the beeping of his oven, Sebastian snaps out of his trip down memory lane to grab his dinner. It was a tray of lasagna, one he was sure he would be eating again tomorrow lunch because of the size of it.

He thinks about how he wouldn’t have to place the excess in a container for tomorrow if he just had someone to share it with. If he could share it with you.

Going through his grocery list at 10 in the morning, Sebastian notices a new store out of the corner of his eye. He’s been to this street countless times to do his grocery down the road— they had a brand of milk that no other nearby grocery had— but he had never seen that store before.

It was a bookshop. A small one compared to the large shops that surrounded it, but it stood out enough to be noticed yet cozy enough to feel inviting. It was a cold morning in Switzerland, and the heater inside just invited him further in until he found himself standing at the doorway, taking in the smell of books and the absolutely gorgeous decor.

He will admit, he hasn’t seen a bookshop like this in quite a while. The second he stepped foot inside he felt the love radiate through it, as if he knew the owner personally and how they had a passion for their store.

All Sebastian could think about, however, was how much you would love this. How you would adore running your fingers through the spine of a second hand book, or how you would pick a fresh new one for him to read and he would do the same for you, just like you both did back then.

He won’t pretend that he never looked for your book when you retired. He knew you weren’t joking about publishing one, he just didn’t know what pen name you chose so he never could find it.

“Looking for something specific?” A voice makes him turn his head around to see the woman behind the register looking at him inquisitively. He realizes that he was just standing in an aisle not really reading or picking up a book.

Sebastian shakes his head, “Not really, just browsing. I was thinking about how a friend of mine would have liked to see this store, it’s right up their alley.”

“Why don’t you invite them then?” A different voice speaks.

…It can’t be.

That voice.

That voice.

No, he was hallucinating, dreaming maybe. Yes, this was a dream. That would be the only explanation why from behind him he heard a voice he missed so dreadfully, one he tried imagining talk to him again some nights, one he watched old videos for, one he—

“Sebastian?”

It was you. He would recognize your voice anywhere. He turns around, and the world seems to slow down as if it suddenly focused on just the both of you. The background blurs and everything is hazy and distorted but you were there. Standing in front of him, actually real. Older than he remembers but not in a negative way, just more mature. More peaceful. More you.

Staring at you in the middle of a bookshop in Switzerland after 5 years, Sebastian couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say. What would be right? Would there be words he could tell you that would make you ever forgive him?

“I-” “You-”

You both start at the same time, making you laugh at each other. It was the first time he’s seen you smile since 2016. He used to say he would burn cities to see you smile, and he’s glad he knows now that that feeling hasn’t changed.

“You first,” he says. He wants to hear what you’ll say so he can choose his words better.

“I, uh,” you laugh awkwardly. It was still a beautiful sound to Sebastian. “I was actually slightly expecting to see you here.”

Oh. Well he didn’t expect that. You…you were expecting to see him? Like purposely thinking about him? The thought boggled Sebastian.

Noticing his visible silence, you speak up again. “I co-own this bookstore,” you smile. “I knew you lived around the area so I expected I’d bump into you eventually. It’s not the main thing that I do, but my Swiss friend you just talked to behind the counter wanted to make a bookstore but was low on funds so I decided to help a friend out, you know?”

Oh he knows. You were always so kind when it came to your friends. He remembers, he used to be one of them.

“That’s really nice of you,” Sebastian says. He slaps himself internally for the dumb reply he gives. “You uh, you look great.” Way to fucking go Sebastian. What a great conversation saver.

“Not in a weird way, of course. I mean I would never try to make you feel uncomfortable by saying that. Did you feel uncomfortable? Was it weird? It probably was. I mean I haven’t seen you in so long and that’s the first thing I say it’s so stupid and I could have said something of significance but—”

You stop Sebastian before he rambles on any longer. Holding his fidgeting hand, you chuckle at the sight of the nervous German in front of you. “Relax, Seb. I’m not mad. I’ve moved on.”

Oh.

“You have?” He asks, not thinking before he speaks because he knows he hasn’t. How could he move on from the best thing that ever happened to him and the biggest mistake he ever made?

The question takes you aback, pulling your hand away from his. For a second Sebastian thinks he’s messed up all over again, but you simply reply, “I meant from racing. But I know what you think I mean.”

“Can we catch up? I’ve missed you.” Sebastian hears himself say it before he even realizes the implications of his words.

“Oh.” you say with a pause. It makes Sebastian’s heart sink. Maybe you really have moved on, but in a way that you didn’t want him in your life anymore. He gets that. It looks like you’ve built a nice life for yourself outside of racing. Even if he never gets to be in it. He’s proud of you for being able to move on. “How about we sit down for some coffee first? I know a place near here.”

Oh thank god. Sebastian wasn’t ready to be deprived of you again so quickly.

Walking to the cafe, the air was thick with the tension between the two of you. While your accidental meeting in the library had gone well, the spark of the moment had faded and the reality of the situation had settled in. This was someone Sebastian had deeply wronged, someone he still deeply loved, and there were too many words unsaid there about both.

Sitting down at the window seats— he remembers how you loved sitting there so you could watch the people outside— you flag down a waiter to take both your orders.

“I’ll take a macchiato and— Seb do you still take your coffee black?”

Nodding, he looks out the window with a light blush on his cheeks. The fact that you remembered his— albeit simple— order made him happy and he had to catch himself otherwise he would be smiling like a teenage boy again. It was truly the little things.

“So,” he speaks up, straightening up and looking at you.

“So,” you mimic. “I go first or you go first?”

“My life has been pretty televised before I retired, there’s nothing really surprising in it. You go first.”

You spend the next 30 minutes filling him in on your life, how you avoided the media for the past few years, how you live in a cozy home with your dog, how you still exchange presents with some of the older grid during Christmas (Sebastian admits he got jealous here).

But the most important part was when he heard how you finally wrote that book you always talked about.

“Really? You finally published it?” Sebastian asks. He could see how the smile on your face was genuine, unlike the many times he saw you put on a fake one for the press or the media. It made him happy.

“Yeah, I finally found time after I retired to start it. Surprisingly it’s actually much harder and less peaceful than I thought it’d be.”

“At least it’s not a biographical book,” Seb jokes. The throwback makes you giggle, but it also makes you both acknowledge the elephant in the room. There were still so many things left unsaid, you both didn’t know where to start.

“Y/N back when I said those things, you know the ones, I didn’t mean them.”

Giving him a sad smile you reply, “I know, Seb. But it doesn’t take them back. Besides, that silly argument was just the straw that broke the camel's back, we were on the edge of our relationship for so long, you knew that too.”

“I know, but that was my fault it was on the edge too. I kept pushing you away because of Ferrari and how disappointed I was in my career. I didn’t realize at the time how much it was hurting you until I finally lost you. I know it makes no sense to say it this late when all is said and done, but I am sorry.”

Sebastian’s words stunned you to silence. You knew he never meant pushing you away, despite your last fight he was never intentionally that unkind, it was just racing that pushed him to be like that back then. But hearing the words coming from him hit differently, the way he said the two words you’ve been yearning for for years. I’m Sorry.

It couldn’t make you forget, but it could make you forgive.

“I know you are, Sebby,” you say. The old nickname brings a nostalgic smile on his face. “I’ve forgiven you years ago, just after I retired. I figured I should let go of my ghosts and that’s what I did. Though I won’t lie, your ghost did put up quite a fight giving me tears at night,” you joked. Sebastian could sense the hint of sadness in it.

He wishes he could make it all go away, to fix it just like he used to be able to. But he knows it’s not that easy. Not when the years have separated you both. It’ll be hard getting your trust back to let him into your heart even just as a friend, but goddamn if he wasn’t going to try and fix it.

“Will you ever show me the book?”

The question catches you slightly off guard. “I doubt it. It’s not up your alley anway, historical fiction.”

“Anything you write is up my alley. Maybe you can come over sometime and show it to me,” he says, not realizing the underlying meaning to it.

“Careful, Sebastian,” you say. “Forgiving is easy when you’re given time, but forgetting is harder. Let’s take baby steps.”

Baby steps. He could live with that. To Sebastian it doesn’t matter if it takes days or years to get you back in his life, he’ll let you take your time. You deserve it. And if you choose in the end to walk out of his life again, well, then he deserves it.

You hug each other goodbye when you leave, the hug lasting longer than it should have. He knows he promised baby steps, but when you buried your head into the crook of his neck and tightened your grip around him softly, he couldn’t resist pulling you closer to him and holding you there for a few seconds. He misses this, the closeness of it.

He sends you his address if ever you were in the area again, and you notice how the profile picture he has for you on your number was still the one of you when you were both rookies. It made you happy.

Sebastian didn’t expect anything more to happen, he spent that night contemplating what good deed he must’ve done to bring you back into his life again. Whatever it was, he was grateful he had done it.

The next afternoon as he was reheating the Lasagna— that he ultimately forgot yesterday— in the oven for lunch, he heard his doorbell ring. Opening his door he spots a package on the floor, one that was wrapped with a cute bee themed wrapping paper. It made him chuckle. He expected that whoever or whatever was at the door was you, but this was the next best thing.

Sitting down on his porch chair, he opens the package delicately as if it were fragile. He can feel the outline already, it was a book. Moreover, it was your book. Sebastian couldn’t believe it.

There was a note attached that read, ‘Forgot to tell you yesterday. I missed you too.’

The few words were almost enough to bring him to tears, but he continued and opened the book to scan its contents. The typing Published 2020 stands out, making him realize how long he’s missed out on this.

But what truly catches his attention is the dedication. Smack right in the middle, the words to be seen by everyone, read; For my Sunshine, the amount of words left unsaid will never match the amount of love I still have for you in my heart.

He may not be able to fix his mistake just like that, but Sebastian would wait however long it took for you to love him again, as a friend or as another. As long as his sunshine was in his life again.

[trina864]

Late Night Drive | J.JK

Summery: You and your boyfriend take a late night drive through the city where you met, it starts out with love, ends with a round of fuck and love. Paring: Jungkook x F!Reader | Est. Relationship Genre: Fanfiction, Romance | Fluff, Smut Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: Mentions of attempted r*pe. Boyfriend Jungkook. Making out. Smut. Sex. Unprotected Sex. N*pple play. I would say the smut part is quite vanilla. ‣ A/N: Sooo, Jungkook again. Finally finished this, it actually wasn't planned to be smut, but I got carried away, have you guys seen the new video from CK with Jungkook?! Jungkook in a tanktop is my new favorite, and omg I haven't even mentioned seven on the blog yet, but shit I'm dying. I'm working on something with seven, but you know me, I'm not sure when I'll be able to finish it, and it's a pretty big project, so we'll see what happens. Anyway enjoy the fic! (:

"Catch!" You yell to your boyfriend, throwing the keys to his black Mercedes. Jungkook caught them, standing on the other side of the car.

He looks from the keys in his hand to you opening the door to the passenger seat. He opens the door and asks "You don't wanna drive tonight?"

"Nah, I wanna admire the city and my beautiful boyfriend tonight." You say as you click yourself in. Jungkook smiles his cute bunny smile before he too clicks himself in.

When Jungkook turns the keys, the car comes to life with a roar. The lights in the car, LED purple and blue, turns on together with the roar.

He takes the car out of park mode and starts to drive out of the very filled parking lot.

The roads are lightened up by the streetlights in contrast to the parking lot which was completely dark, only the lights from your apartment's windows shined across the dark parking lot.

The leather seats in the car are reflecting purple and blue light onto Jungkooks face. He’s concentrated on the road giving you lots of time to admire him.

His hair newly washed still damp, the strands too reflected the lights. Both hands placed on the steering wheel, one cowered in tattoos. His legs clenching the faster he drives. His shirt hugging his strong figure.

His lips lifts in a smirk, he feels your eyes on him in a longer period of time. Jungkook has always loved your attention, you are one of the few were he doesn’t turn shy.

With you it’s confidence all the way, because he knows you, and loves you.

“Like what you see?” He asks all cocky.

“Nope not at all.” You say playfully making a small pout form on Jungkooks lips. It isn’t long though before he gets an idea.

His tatted hand slowly creeps down the steering wheel, over the gear lever, and over to your thigh where it rests comfortably.

A shiver goes over your spine as you feel Jungkook’s hand caress your thigh with utter love.

Unable to hide your smile you look out the window to the moving city, remembering all of the old memories you built with Jungkook.

Your first tattoo, the time you met each other’s parents, the day Jungkook asked you to be his partner.

One strong memory keeps popping up into your head, and you decide to share it with Jungkook as you think he never actually heard your feelings on the story.

“Do you know when I started loving you?” You ask quietly. He looks over at you, trying to catch your eyes, but you keep them on the moving city outside.

He gives you a soft squeeze with the hand on your thigh, and he sees how comfortable and content you seem in this moment. As if everything is just good right now. “No I don’t think I know that.”

“Well, do you remember our third date or something, that one were I thought it would’ve been a good idea for us to go to a club.” You ask looking back to Jungkook with anticipating eyes.

He gives you another squeeze, remembering exactly which night you’re referring to. “I would rather want to forget that night, but yea I do.” He manages to chuckle it out, not as much for his own sake as for yours.

That night had been a real nightmare for you. He gets shivers just thinking back to your trembling body walking out of the restroom with a dress torn in the side and mascara running down your face.

You ran into his arms that night even though you still didn’t know each other that well.

You explained how a guy had tried to do things to you while on the way to the restroom. He had almost succeeded before you got your hands in your pepper spray and you ran out of there.

Two minutes passed where Jungkook tried to calm not only you but also himself. How he wanted to smack that guy's face into the floor and kick him unconscious.

But he could sense that you needed something steady and strong in that moment, not someone who couldn’t control their anger. So he stood with you and hugged you.

“That night was both the worst and the best night ever.” You say. Jungkook looks at you with a frown not catching on to how it could’ve been a good night.

“I’m not following.” He says looking back to the road as one lonely car passes by.

You smile fiddling with your hands. “The moment the guy came running out from the restroom and walked up to us, I knew you wanted to fight him.” Jungkook clenches his jaw, hand tightens around the steering wheel.

This shows just how right you are, somewhere in his eyes there’s a look of regret, for not having punched the guy.

“Of course I wanted to fight him. I wanted to punch him so hard that he wouldn’t be able to walk again.” He says, and he gets surprised by your answer.

“I’m glad you didn’t.” You clear your throat and Jungkook looks over at you, your face like his illuminated in purple.

“I felt how angry you were, but you calmed yourself for me, do you have any idea how rare that is? I needed you to let him go, and you did. That made me feel so safe, you have no idea how good I felt in your arms when we got home. I never felt so at ease before, as if there was nothing in the world that could hurt me, because I had you.” He doesn’t know how to reply in this moment, he is speechless.

You can’t contain your emotions tonight, they shine on your face with every smile and breath. Especially the smile you have now is showing Jungkook more than anything else could.

“That’s how I still feel. I feel safe with you Jungkook, at home. And I very much believe that is how love feels. I started loving you in that moment, and never stopped.” You say.

Both of you watch as the light from the same club’s sign shine through your windows and adorns the car in turquoise blue.

Jungkook pulls over not too long after and turns to you with his whole body. Like he had seen emotions in your eyes, you see emotions in his.

The small unsheat tears at the corners of his eyes, and the lifted shape of his eyes from the smile he adorned.

To you he is as euphoric as the heart of a field filled with pink and white flowers.

He feels like the luckiest guy in the entire world sitting in front of you like this and showing his emotions without being scared of what you would think.

No words are needed between you two, the love for each other is evident for both of you. All that are needed is to let silence do its part and sit long enough for the emotions to lick up your body and embrace you in a warm hug.

It's you who makes the first move, crawling over the gear lever, and straddling Jungkooks lap. He smiles looking up at you and you wipe the tears in the corners of his eyes.

"I love you more than words could ever describe." He says and leans into your hands.

You bend down and kiss him, pressing your lips hard against his, just to try and show all the affection. Jungkook returns the kiss just as passionate as you, opening your mouth, and licking his way into your mouth.

You start grinding down into his lap, pressing against his dick. Jungkook moans into your mouth, loving the way you move on top of him. His hands wander down your sides and lay over your hips were he guides them.

You sit like that for quite a while, making out, Jungkooks dick grows hard under you and for every time your cunt presses against him you have to hold your moan.

Even with his small whispers that he wanted to hear you, and you shouldn't hold back with the sounds, you have to keep some in to not seem too desperate.

Suddenly Jungkook gets enough of your 'holding in your moan policy' and he stops you.

You whine quietly, but he shushes you as he starts leaning the seat back. When the seat is as leaned back as it can get he switches places and pulls his shirt over his head.

You almost drool, looking over his abs and feeling them over.

He smirks down at you as you too get rid of your shirt and your shorts, leaving you in only panties. You left the bra at home. He is over you in an instant, grabbing and twisting your nipples in between his fingers.

You're in bliss, Jungkook switches one of his hands out with his mouth, and the noise his sucking and licking makes is sinful, you don't even notice Jungkook getting rid of his own pants.

It's first when his bare thighs tangle against your own that you notice the lack of clothes from his side as well as yours.

From there it all seems to go a bit quicker, you getting rid of your underwear and Jungkooks his. He bends your legs up so your thighs are resting over you. He pumps himself a few times before he lines his cock up with your pussy entrance.

Your eyes meet, and again no words is needed as the love and sexual seduction shows itself.

It's almost as if your moan and Jungkooks groan harmonizes, both coming out equally loud as he pushes his dick into you.

You lay still for a few seconds as your pussy adapts to Jungkooks seize. He kisses you, and whispers sweet nothings between small kisses.

It's first when you tap his abdomen twice he starts to move, just like you had agreed.

He starts out slow, still letting you adapt to his seize, but slowly as your moans gets louder and the windows gets more fogged the pace quickens.

It doesn't take long before Jungkook is hammering into you, pulling the filthiest moans from your mouth, and making the seat beneath you squeak as if it's in pain.

Your wet sounds are not half as attractive as Jungkooks grunts and whimpers. His cock hitting into your g-spot, plus him whimpering with his whiniest voice "Fuck yea." is so filthy, so dirty and nasty that you feel your orgasm bulid up in turbo mode.

"Ah, Jungkook I'm so close." You whimper with closed eyes and tears in the brim. He looks down at your beautiful squinted face, sweat on your forehead as well as your inner knees were his grip is starting to slip.

His own sweat drips from his neck down to your neck where the two substances mixes. The windows are unable to be seen through.

"Fuck, ah!, you look so good, a mess all because of my dick. Are you gonna cum on my dick huh? Is that what you want? To milk it into your cum?" His words is as sinful as the car you're in, and you whimper a series of 'yes'.

Jungkook quickens the pace. If his pace was fast before this is rapid. It's almost animalistic how he grunts and fucks into you, even you feel how your walls clench harder around him. Your nails dig into his back, you don't scratch scared you'll actually scratch through his skin. "Oh- my- go- od, Jungkook!!" You manage to get out through each thrust.

Your orgasm hits you like a train, running all over you as your body spasm. Jungkook doesn't slow down, he keeps the same unforgiving pace through the whole of your orgasm. You feel used in the best way as your orgasm is over. Jungkook is still not finished, but you feel his dick twitch inside you.

You help him on the way, you have to make him cum so you can get a break. You do the thing Jungkook loves the most, and dirty talk to him. "Shit, my cum is all over you cock, it's on the seat. You're gonna get stained by my pussy juice when you drive." You say and Jungkook has to rest his head on you as he falls weak for your voice.

"You're covered in my cum kookie, you have to cover me too. Cum inside me baby. Paint my pussy white with your cum, kookie." You moan. It doesn't take long from there till Jungkook is loosing his grip and cumming into your tight pussy. "Fuuuuck! Yea, ah." He moans as his load shoots into you and mixes with your own sticky cum.

You almost get another orgasm just by how good it feels to get coated by Jungkook, how good it feels when his body takes over and he has no control of how he hammers into you.

When he is done he collapses on top of you, dick still wrapped in your warm walls. "I love you Y/N." He says as he feels your fingers run through his hair.

"And I love you Kookie." You say and smile as Jungkooks arms sneaks under you and he hugs you with his face nuzzled into your neck.

Shit, you love car drives with Jungkook.

[hertenskylarks]

More 2 Cents on S3

So, I know there’s already a lot of talk going around. Here’s my 2 cents. 

In light of the recent news, I keep hearing a lot of “Oh, I hope the third season doesn’t get canceled,” and “Oh, I hope it does. Fuck Gaiman,” and “Oh, what about Terry’s vision? What about the fans? What about closure?”

I have absolutely zero control as to whether or not season 3 is made. Many arguments for and against it have already been made. I don't want to beat a dead horse, but I will offer this perspective from my own personal experience. 

I’m a swing dancer, and my rapist was my teacher and one of the first people who ever taught me how to dance. One of the things that made me hesitant to come forward was that he was one of the most likable characters in my scene. He was the funny, goofy guy who wore funky printed shirts, he was sooo nice, he couldn’t possibly be a rapist, right? Right?

Seeing people praise him, hearing people talk about how great he is when I knew what he did to me… It drove me absolutely mad. I just wanted to shake people and say, “No, you don’t understand! You don’t understand who he is!” But I felt like I just couldn't. I felt his reputation was too iron-clad to say anything.

Coming forward was one of the scariest things I ever did because I was so sure people either wouldn't believe me or wouldn't care. And, as predicted, that was the case for some. You can only imagine how I felt when someone I used to call my friend went on to have him officiate her wedding. You can only imagine how I felt when the response from the organizers of the dance scene was to ask me to avoid mentioning Y-Town Swing in social media posts (Oops) to protect their reputation. You can only imagine how I felt when they continued to have him as a teacher, or when they updated their safe space policy to say they are not responsible for anything that happens “outside a Y-Town swing event.” 

Oh, so if he raped me in the bathroom at the event instead it would have made a difference? Right, sorry, didn't realize the location or a rape mattered that much.

Anyway…

This was all in the confines of a small dance scene, in a small city, in a very niche hobby. Now, imagine how it must feel when your rapist and abuser is a fucking best selling author, praised as this ally to women and LGBT people, he’s the quirky guy who has a Tumblr and actually responds to his fans and he’s so cool, he’s one of us, he can’t possibly be a rapist, right? Right?

I can only imagine how fucking mad it drove his victims to know who he really is and see him put on such a high pedestal. 

So, however this all unfolds, I will say this. The people I care about most are the victims. I say this as someone who loved and still loves Good Omens, I say this as someone who was torn up about the final 15, as someone who rejoiced when S3 was originally announced, before all the allegations came to light. I care about the victims. 

But what about the fans? Listen, it’s a fucking TV show. Do you really mean to tell me the ending of a fictional fucking story is more important than the very real people he’s hurt? Not having an ending to your favorite show does not hold a candle to the trauma of being sexually assaulted. There’s no comparison. Not in the same ballpark. Not even in the same galaxy. 

But what about Terry?

Terry is dead and in his grave. I am sorry to say this, but whether his vision comes to life or not, he will never be the wiser. It makes no difference to him. If I could wave my magic wand and have Terry alive and well and Gaiman dead and in his grave, believe me, I definitely would, but that is not the hand we were dealt. 

So please, all I ask is this. Before you go spouting shit like, “I hope we don’t lose S3,” or “I just need to know how it ends,” put yourself in their shoes for just a second.

Imagine you are Claire, or Scarlett, or any of his other victims. Imagine you are sexually assaulted by someone whom the world just puts on a pedestal. You have to sit there and listen to him get praised as being “such a great ally to women and minorities” and “he’s one of us,” and “he’s so brilliant. He’s so cool. He really listens to his fans. Look at this quote of his I got tattooed on my body.” And for years you just sit there and take it, because you’re so fucking afraid that no one will believe you if you come forward, you’re told your story “isn’t enough,” you watch him get richer and richer while you’re stuck with the therapy bill for everyting this “great ally of women” did to you. 

Now imagine that you finally come forward. You finally muster up the will to speak your truth, and tell people what he did to you, and you find that you’re not the only person he’s hurt. The world is finally hearing your story and learning what a manipulative monster he is. 

And now, I want you to think very carefully about what it means if we still get S3. 

S3 means press tours. It means more reviews praising him as a genius. It means certain people being contractually obligated to say nice things about him, or at the very least, not say negative things about him. It means, once again, seeing his fucking horse face or his name everywhere, on Amazon, on billboards, on busses, on posters, in adverts. Only now, it's AFTER the world heard your side of the story.

Just imagine how that would feel. 

So, if it wasn't obvious by now, my stance on S3 is… I don't really want it to happen. Not out of spite or some deep seated hatred for Gaiman (although, ya know, fuck that guy) but out of consideration for the people he's hurt, as someone who knows exactly how it feels to see the person who hurt you get put on a pedestal. 

I understand that production is paused and people think he may be getting removed from the project. I'm not going to comment on that because "paused” can mean a lot of things and there's so much we don't know yet.

There will be other shows. 

There will be shows that DO have satisfying endings. 

Media and shows can be replaced. 

But there is no such thing as being un-raped. 

[ponderingmoonlight]

Going to "your spot" after the breakup and finding your ex aka jjk men there too

Pairings: Gojo x fem!reader; Geto x fem!reader; Megumi x fem!reader; Sukuna/Yuji x fem!reader

Word Count: 5,2k (well this took me quite some time lol)

Warnings: hurt hurt hurt und slight comfort in every part or a lot of comfort in some of the parts, please excuse a few mistakes here and there, omg Sukuna's part is sooo hot, idk but somehow EVERY scenario screams part 2 to me?

Gojo Satoru

You haven’t been back here in weeks.

The café is small, hidden between two noisy streets, easy to miss if you don’t know it’s here. That’s why it became your spot. After the breakup, it was the only place that felt like yours, where you could think without the weight of everything hanging over you, where you were able to think about anything else but him. As you step inside, the familiar sound of chatter blends with the whir of the espresso machine, and for a second, it feels like you can finally breathe.

But then you see him.

Gojo Satoru, sitting at your favorite booth, long legs stretched out under the table, an easy smirk playing on his lips like he’s waiting for something amusing to happen. His signature sunglasses sit crooked on his nose, as though even they can’t take him seriously.

Your heart stumbles, caught between old emotions and the sharp sting of reality. You broke up months ago. So why does it feel like time hasn’t moved at all? You freeze, standing in the doorway, unsure if you should leave before he notices you. But it’s already too late.

“Ah, there you are,” his voice is casual, like he expected you to show up.

Like this is all normal.

You blink, unsure how to respond. He waves you over, patting the seat across from him with that infuriating grin still plastered on his face.

“C’mon, don’t stand there like a ghost. Sit.”

You consider walking out, to run away and never return. But something keeps you rooted in place. Maybe it’s curiosity, or maybe it’s the way he looks at you - like he knows something you don’t. Against your better judgment, you step forward and slide into the booth across from him.

“What are you doing here, Satoru?” you ask, keeping your voice steady, though it’s hard to ignore the way your chest tightens with old memories.

“Same thing you’re doing,” he replies, leaning back in his seat as if he owns the place.

“Thinking. Drinking coffee. Enjoying life.”

His nonchalance rubs you the wrong way. It always has. Even during the relationship, Gojo was an enigma. Always present, yet somehow distant, like he existed in a world slightly out of sync with yours. It made things exciting… and exhausting.

You look away, glancing out the window as you gather your thoughts.

“You’re in my spot. And I’m not enjoying life when you’re around.”

He laughs, the sound light and almost mocking.

“Your spot, huh? Last time I checked, cafés don’t have names on seats.”

You sigh. There’s no point in arguing with him. Not when he twists words like this. You turn back to face him, crossing your arms over your chest while forcing your racing heart to calm down.

“What do you want?”

His grin fades slightly, but his playful air remains. He taps his fingers on the table, thoughtful.

“What, I can’t just run into you and say hi?”

You arch an eyebrow.

“Here? Really?”

His head tilts, sunglasses sliding down a little to reveal those impossibly blue eyes. Eyes that have seen too much, understood too little, yet always managed to draw you in.

“Fine,” he says, voice softening just a little.

“Maybe I knew you’d be here.”

Of course he did. Gojo always had a way of knowing things he shouldn’t. It’s both frustrating and oddly comforting. You’re not sure how you feel about him tracking you down like this. There’s a part of you that wants to yell at him, tell him to leave you alone and stop making everything so confusing. But another part, one you don’t want to admit to, wonders if this means something. If he regrets it. If this is his version of an apology. If there’s a chance for both of you to get back.

But this is Satoru, and he doesn’t do apologies.

Instead, he just watches you, like he’s waiting for you to say something. You realize he’s not going to make the first move, so you speak, your voice low but steady.

“Why now?”

He leans forward, elbows on the table, a serious look settling on his face.

“Because I’ve been thinking. About us.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your expression neutral. You’ve been down this road before. It’s not the first time you hear those words leaving his mouth.

“And?”

“I messed up,” he admits, surprising you.

His eyes are locked on yours, no smirk, no teasing in his voice.

“I thought I could just… walk away. But I can’t.”

It’s not like Gojo to be vulnerable. The words hang between you, heavy and real in a way that most of your conversations with him never were.

You’re silent for a moment, the hurt still fresh despite the months that have passed.

“You always think you can fix things with words, Satoru. But this isn’t something you can just smooth over.”

His gaze softens, the boldness slipping just a little.

“I know. But I want to try.”

You don’t know how to respond. This is what you’d wanted for so long. For him to admit it, to take things seriously. But now that it’s happening, you feel more conflicted than ever. You’d built walls around your heart, braced yourself for the fact that he wasn’t coming back.

And here he is, asking for another chance.

“I don’t know if I can do this again,” you murmur, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

For once, Gojo doesn’t have a snappy comeback. He just nods, as if he’s expected this answer. His hand moves toward yours, but he stops short, fingers hovering above the table.

“Just… think about it, okay?”

Thinking about it another minute after crying yourself to sleep over those constant thought around him? You don’t know if you can. But you nod anyway, more for his sake than your own. There’s no use in arguing with him. Not here, not now. Not when your feelings are scattered all over the comforting café.

He gets up, his usual swagger returning as he pulls on his jacket. His hand touches your shoulder so slightly that you would’ve missed it normally.

But not when it’s him. Not when his fingertips brush like fire over your skin. Not when you couldn’t stop thinking about his touch for months. Your head goes numb, glossy eyes staring up in search for something, anything that snaps you back into reality.

“I’ll be around.”

And just like that, he’s gone, leaving you alone in your spot - wondering if this place will ever feel the same again, wondering if he was honest.

Geto Suguru

It feels strange to be back here, almost surreal.

The old bookstore is tucked between two more modern shops, easy to miss unless you’re looking for it. You used to love coming here: quiet, the smell of old books, the dim lighting that gave it an intimate, almost sacred atmosphere. It had been your spot. Your escape when life felt too heavy. But now, after everything with Suguru, the air feels heavier wherever you go.

You step inside, the familiar scent of paper and ink hitting you immediately. For a moment, it feels like nothing has changed. But as your eyes scan the shelves, your heart stops.

He’s here.

Geto Suguru, standing by the philosophy section, his back turned to you. His long black hair is tied back like it always was, and his posture is as relaxed as ever. He looks like he belongs here, like he’s just another part of the quiet serenity of this place. But to you, he’s a storm.

You stand frozen, unsure of what to do. It’s been months since the breakup, since things fell apart between you two. And yet, seeing him here, in your sanctuary, feels like a breach of some unspoken boundary. He hasn’t noticed you yet, too absorbed in whatever book he’s holding.

You could leave, slip out before he sees you. But something keeps you rooted to the spot. Maybe it’s the unresolved tension between you. Maybe it’s the questions that still linger in your mind, unanswered since the day he walked away.

Before you can decide, he turns.

And his eyes lock onto yours.

For a moment, neither of you move. His expression remains unreadable, that calm mask he always wore in place. But there’s something in his eyes, something that flickers and fades too quickly for you to grasp.

“Hey,” he speaks up softly, his voice like a distant echo of something once familiar.

You swallow, feeling a tightness in your throat that reminds you of all those countless tears you’ve cried over that boy.

“Hi.”

There’s a brief silence, thick with everything unsaid between you. He takes a small step closer, still holding the book in his hand, though his attention is entirely on you now.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You give a short, humorless laugh.

“Neither did I.”

He glances around, his eyes tracing the old shelves, the worn chairs, the little alcove where the two of you used to sit for hours, lost in conversation.

“Still your favorite spot?”

You shrug, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to maintain some distance, some control over the situation. Oh, how much you hate to admit it. You’d never say it out loud, but somehow you are trapped to this place. Trapped in memories, trapped in those whiskey eyes darting back and forth written pages.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t feel the same anymore.”

Suguru’s gaze returns to you, and for the first time, there’s a hint of something in his expression. Regret, maybe? Or something close to it.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

“I get that.”

Another silence stretches between you, and you can feel the weight of the past pressing down on both of you. This was where you used to come together, where things between you felt simple, uncomplicated. But now, with the distance and the hurt still lingering, it feels like everything is just… broken.

“What are you doing here, Suguru?” you finally blurt out, your voice softer than you intended.

You’re not sure if you’re asking why he’s in the bookstore or why he’s in your life at all.

He looks down at the book in his hand for a moment, then back at you.

“I’ve been thinking. About us. About how things ended. It’s like I’m glued to this place. Or well, rather to you.”

You inhale sharply, your chest tightening at the mention of us.

“It didn’t end well,” you remark, the bitterness slipping into your tone despite your efforts to keep it out.

“I know,” he murmurs, and there’s no defensiveness in his voice, no argument.

 Just quiet acceptance.

“I didn’t handle things the way I should have.”

That catches you off guard. Geto Suguru was always so sure of himself, so unwavering in his convictions, even when it hurt. Hearing him admit to a mistake feels almost foreign.

You blink, not sure how to respond.

“What do you want, Suguru?”

He steps closer, the distance between you shrinking, though there’s still an ocean of emotions that neither of you knows how to cross.

“I want to talk. To explain.”

You feel your heart clench, torn between the desire to finally hear his side and the fear of reopening wounds that haven’t fully healed.

“Explain what? Why you left? Why you just… disappeared?”

His expression softens, and for a moment, the mask slips. You see the Suguru you once knew, the one who used to look at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“It wasn’t about you. I left because… I wasn’t right. I wasn’t in a place where I could be with you the way you deserved.”

You close your eyes for a second, trying to process his words, but the hurt is still there, raw and real.

“You could have told me. I would’ve understood.”

“I didn’t want to burden you,” he continues, and there’s a sadness in his voice that you haven’t heard before.

“I thought… I thought leaving was the right thing to do. That it would make things easier.”

You shake your head, emotions swirling inside you, too many to untangle.

“It didn’t. It just made things worse.”

He doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to justify himself. He just stands there, watching you with an expression that’s equal parts regret and something you can’t quite name.

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

The apology hangs in the air, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say. It’s what you’ve wanted to hear for so long, but now that it’s here, it doesn’t feel like enough.

But maybe nothing ever will.

You sigh, feeling the weight of the past months pressing down on you.

“Suguru… I don’t know if we can go back to how things were.”

“I’m not asking for that,” he replies quickly.

“I just… I wanted you to know that I’m sorry. And that I didn’t leave because of you. It was me.”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. The emotions are too tangled, too raw. But maybe, just maybe, this is a start. An acknowledgment of the pain, of the mistakes. A step toward healing.

“I should go,” you say after a moment, your voice soft but firm.

He doesn’t try to stop you, but there’s a lingering look in his eyes as you turn to leave.

“Take care of yourself,” he breathes out, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You nod, and before you really know what happens, you find yourself in front of him, your nose caressed by his signature smell hanging in the air, your arms aiming for the back of his neck.

Before you really know what happens, Suguru devours you into his strong arms, pressing you against his pounding heart, the warmth of his body you missed so deeply.

“Just a moment”, you mutter against his chest.

“Give me just one second, let me feel this again.”

Megumi Fushiguro

It’s quiet here, the way it always is.

The park bench tucked beneath the large oak tree was your refuge long before you even met Megumi. It’s where you’ve come to think, to escape, to just breathe. But ever since the breakup, it feels… different. As if something’s been stolen from the air, leaving it heavy and suffocating.

You sit down on the bench, pulling your coat tighter against the breeze, and stare out at the trees swaying gently in the wind. The peace you once felt here seems unreachable now. No matter how hard you try to reclaim this place as yours, there’s still a part of it that belongs to him.

And then, as if summoned by your thoughts, you see him.

Megumi is standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, his usual stoic expression slightly softened by the dappled light filtering through the branches. He hasn’t noticed you yet, his eyes focused on something in the distance, lost in thought.

Your heart clenches at the sight of him. It’s been weeks since you last spoke, since everything fell apart between you. The last time you saw him, it was in the heat of an argument, words flying like knives, both of you too stubborn to back down. But now, standing there under the shadow of the oak tree, he looks so… normal. Like nothing’s changed. Like he’s still the boy you fell hopelessly in love with.

You wonder if he feels the same knot of tension that’s twisting in your stomach, or if he’s moved on already, like everything between you was just another fleeting chapter in his life. Did he miss you like you’ve missed him? Does he think of you from time to time?

Before you can decide whether to leave or stay, his eyes shift, and they land on you.

He freezes, his posture stiffening slightly, though his expression remains unreadable. For a moment, neither of you moves. You can’t tell if the look on his face is surprise, regret, or something else entirely. All you know is that seeing him here feels like reopening a wound that hasn’t fully healed.

“Hey,” you say softly, breaking the silence before it becomes unbearable.

“Hey,” he echoes, his voice low, almost cautious.

You shift on the bench, not sure whether to stand or stay seated. There’s an awkwardness in the air, thick and uncomfortable, but Megumi doesn’t seem motivated to move either. Instead, he stays where he is, watching you with those intense, dark eyes of his - the same eyes that used to look at you with warmth, with something close to tenderness. Now, they’re guarded, carefully concealing whatever he’s feeling.

“What are you doing here?” you question, your voice steadier than you feel.

He shrugs, his gaze briefly flickering away before coming back to you.

 “I’ve always come here. Before we even met.”

The admission stings a little, reminding you that this park, this bench, wasn’t just yours. It was his too. A shared space that neither of you seemed ready to give up, even after the breakup.

“Yeah, same”, you murmur.

Another silence falls between you, but this one feels different. Less strained, more… cautious. Like both of you are waiting for the other to make the next move, to say something that might break the tension or, at the very least, acknowledge it.

Megumi takes a small step closer, his hands still shoved deep in his pockets.

“How have you been?”

The question catches you off guard. It’s such a simple, normal thing to ask, but coming from him, it feels loaded. You hesitate for a moment before answering.

“I’ve been… okay, I guess. It’s been hard, but I’m getting through it.”

He nods, his expression still unreadable.

“Good.”

You glance up at him, studying his face, searching for some sign of what he’s thinking. Megumi was always hard to read, even when things were good between you. He had a habit of keeping his emotions buried, only letting them slip through in small, subtle ways: a twitch of his mouth, the way his eyes would soften just slightly when he looked at you. Now, though, you’re not sure what he’s holding back. Does he even care about you?

“What about you?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

“How’ve you been?”

He shifts his weight slightly, his eyes flicking away for just a second before meeting yours again.

“I’ve been… okay too. I guess.”

The honesty in his voice surprises you. Megumi was never one for unnecessary words, but hearing him admit that he’s been struggling too sends a small wave of relief through you. Maybe it’s selfish, but knowing that this hasn’t been easy for him either makes you feel less alone in your own pain.

You lower your gaze, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? Being here. Like nothing’s changed, but everything has.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, but when he does, his voice is soft, thoughtful.

“Yeah. It is.”

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the quiet of the park settling around you. It’s strange, but in a way, it feels almost peaceful. As if the weight of your shared history, of everything that’s happened, is still there but somehow lighter now that you’re both acknowledging it.

Finally, Megumi breaks the silence again.

“I didn’t want things to end the way they did.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the rawness in his voice cutting through the distance between you. You glance up at him, and for the first time since you saw him standing there, his mask slips. There’s a flicker of regret in his eyes, something he’s trying to keep hidden but can’t fully suppress.

“I didn’t either,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looks down at the ground, his brows furrowing slightly as if he’s wrestling with something inside him.

“I don’t know if we can fix this,” he admits, his tone uncertain in a way that Megumi rarely is.

“But… I don’t want to pretend like none of it mattered.”

You nod, understanding exactly what he means. There’s no easy fix for what happened between you. The arguments, the misunderstandings, the way you both pushed each other away instead of reaching out - it all still lingers, heavy and unresolved. But that doesn’t erase what you had. It doesn’t make it any less real.

“I don’t either. It mattered. It still matters.”

For a moment, you think he might say more, but then he just nods, the weight of the conversation settling between you. There’s no grand reconciliation, no dramatic declarations of love or promises to try again. Just the simple truth that what you shared was real, and that it’s okay for it to still mean something, even if it’s over.

Megumi exhales softly, his breath misting in the cool air.

“Is it okay if I…Sit next to you for a moment?”

Your eyes dart up, search for a single spark of sarcasm in the ocean of his eyes. Is this a test, a joke by any chance? No, despite all the things that happened between you, Megumi would never do this to you. This is a real request.

“I-…Of course”, you mutter, scooting over so that he doesn’t have to touch you while awkwardly sitting down.

“Do you remember when Yuji caught us together for the first time? It was right here. On this bench.”

The warmth that fills your heart is almost instantly replaced by the familiar sting you know so well by know. Oh, if he only knew how often you replayed that memory inside your head, how many nights you thought about the way his lips felt against yours that day. And now you might never be able to feel him again like that. He’ll never look at you like he did that day.

“He was acting ridiculous”, you comment with a melancholic little laughter.

“I still owe him for it”, he remarks with low voice.

“After all, he made me realize what I felt for you. And that I never lost that spark.”

Your heart almost stops beating, hands now shaking so violently that you are forces to cling onto them. Did he really just say that? Megumi, who didn’t even text or call a single time after the breakup, who did his best to avoid you. Is he serious? He can’t be.

“(y/n), I…I never really stopped loving you. That’s why I’m coming here every free minute, that’s why I’m sitting on the other end of this park while watching you from afar. I can’t…I just can’t let go. But maybe this isn’t the right timing and I should let you go.”

Your mouth feels dry like the desert, glossy eyes locking with his. Is this a dream, another nightmare that haunts you far past midnight? Out of trance, you grab his hand and engulf it with your shaky one. It feels like it always did. Warm, comforting. But somehow, it’s killing you inside.

Megumi doesn’t flinch back. Instead, he returns the pressure of your palms, intertwines his fingers with yours. What an innocent and yet intimate gesture: Holding hands during the sunset at fall, the heavy feelings of your past lingering over both of you like an unpromising shadow.

For minutes. Or no, rather hours. Until all the lights are down low and the whole park has gone empty. Until it’s only you and him left.

“I should go,” he says after a moment, his voice gentle.

You nod, not trusting yourself to say more. There’s a part of you that wants to ask him to stay, to keep talking, but you know that some things are better left unsaid for now.

As he turns to leave after returning you home, you watch him walk away, his figure slowly disappearing among the trees. And for the first time in weeks, the park doesn’t feel quite so heavy.

Sukuna

You didn’t come here to see him.

In fact, you come to this place to escape everything, to clear your head, to get some distance from the chaos of life. The abandoned temple ruins, tucked away deep in the forest, have always been your sanctuary. A place where you could sit in the quiet and feel the world stop spinning for a little while. You hadn’t told anyone about it. Not even him.

But the moment you step into the clearing, you feel it. A presence. A dark, heavy energy that coils around you like a cold hand gripping your throat.

And then you see him.

Sukuna, or rather, Yuji’s body twisted into something darker, sharper, lounging casually on one of the broken stone pillars. His blood-red eyes gleam as they lock onto you, his mouth curling into a wicked grin. The sight of him, so comfortable and out of place here, makes your stomach churn. How did he even find this place? Why is he here?

“Fancy meeting you here,” Sukuna drawls, his voice a deep rumble that’s too smug for comfort.

“You always did have good taste.”

You stop dead in your tracks, heart pounding, your mind racing with a million questions. But the most prominent one is simple: Why?

“This is my spot,” you bite back, your voice firmer than you feel.

You can’t let him know how unnerved you are, how your whole body threatens to shiver any given minute.

“What are you doing here?”

Sukuna chuckles, stretching like a predator lounging in the sun, completely at ease.

“Your spot?”

He mocks the words, his tone dripping with amusement.

“I think you’ve forgotten who I am, haven’t you? I go where I please.”

There’s a tension in the air, thick and oppressive. You want to turn around and leave, but something about the way his eyes are watching you, like he’s waiting for something, keeps you rooted to the ground. This is different from every other time you’ve encountered Sukuna. He’s always been cruel, detached, but there’s something sharper in the way he’s looking at you now. Something personal.

You swallow, forcing yourself to stay calm.

“If you’re here to mess with me, just get it over with,” you snap, crossing your arms.

You’ve dealt with enough of Sukuna’s games to know that nothing good comes from engaging with him and that he’s only here to waste your time and watch you bleed.

“I don’t have time for this.”

His grin widens, showing sharp teeth.

“You wound me,” he purrs, though the mockery in his voice makes it clear he’s far from wounded.

“I’m not here to ‘mess with you,’ as you so delicately put it. I was curious.”

You blink, not expecting that answer.

“Curious about what?”

Sukuna stands slowly, his movements deliberate, almost predatory. He doesn’t approach you, but the distance between you feels smaller now, suffocating.

“Curious about what you see in him,” he replies, his voice low and dangerous.

It takes you a second to realize what he means.

Yuji.

He’s talking about Yuji.

Your heart skips a beat, a rush of emotions flooding you all at once. Sukuna must have picked up on it, the way your face changes ever so slightly, because his smirk grows darker.

“You think I don’t know?” he continues, his voice like velvet laced with poison.

“You think I haven’t noticed how you look at him? How you cling to him like he’s your salvation?”

You grit your teeth, a flush of anger rising in your chest.

“Leave Yuji out of this. You don’t get to talk about him.”

Sukuna laughs, a low, menacing sound that vibrates through the air.

“Oh, but he’s right here, isn’t he?”

He gestures to himself, his hand sliding down the front of his chest as if to remind you that this is Yuji’s body he’s wearing.

“Every time you look at me, you’re seeing him.”

Your fists clench at your sides. You want to tell him he’s wrong, that you know the difference, that you feel the difference between the two of them. But the truth is, it hurts. Seeing Yuji’s face twisted into Sukuna’s cruel smirk, hearing his voice warped into something vicious - it tears at you in ways you can’t fully explain.

“You hate me,” Sukuna says, his voice softening slightly, though the malice never leaves his eyes.

“But you can’t ignore me. I’m a part of him. And a part of you still cares, doesn’t it?”

You take a step back, trying to put some distance between you and the words he’s throwing at you like knives.

“I don’t care about you,” you snap, your voice shaking.

“I care about Yuji.”

Sukuna’s smile fades slightly, his eyes narrowing.

“Are you sure?” he questions, his tone mocking but tinged with something deeper.

“Or is it just easier to pretend? To lie to yourself and say that you can separate the two of us? That when you look at him, you’re not also looking at me?”

You can’t respond, because deep down, some part of you has always been afraid of that. Afraid that Sukuna is right, that his presence taints every interaction, every moment you’ve had with Yuji. The thought of it makes your skin crawl, and yet, here you are, standing in front of him, unable to tear your eyes away.

Sukuna steps closer now, his voice dropping to a low, almost intimate whisper.

“You can run from this all you want. But you’ll never escape me. I’m always going to be there, in the back of your mind, in the space between your thoughts. Just waiting.”

You feel a chill run down your spine, the weight of his words pressing down on you. But instead of giving in to the fear, you force yourself to look him in the eyes.

“You’re wrong,” you mutter, though your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Yuji’s stronger than you think. He’ll get rid of you.”

For a moment, Sukuna just stares at you, his expression unreadable. And then, to your surprise, he laughs - a deep, genuine sound that seems to shake the very air around you.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” he remarks, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“That’s what makes this so entertaining.”

Without warning, he turns away, as if dismissing you entirely, his attention now on the sky above the ruins.

“Enjoy your little sanctuary while you can,” he shouts over his shoulder, his voice low and ominous.

“It won’t last forever.”

And with that, he disappears, leaving you standing alone in the clearing, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind spinning.

For a moment, you just stand there, letting the silence of the forest settle around you. But even though Sukuna is gone, the weight of his presence lingers, clinging to the air like a dark cloud.

You hate him. You hate the way he twists everything, makes you question yourself, makes you question Yuji. But deep down, you know that no matter how hard you try to separate them, Sukuna’s right about one thing - he’s always going to be there. And that’s a truth you’re going to have to face

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[jinkiezzsstuff]

Hello!!!

Can I put in a writing request??

Because I love your writing!!! 🥹

Can you do (either human alastor.. or demon alastor i love both but human alastor has a chokehold on me haha) but his partner is plus size and they are very self conscious about it

Can be smut if you like (I'm waaaay okay with that)

omg yessss i’m gonna do human alastor because he does need some attention <3 also felt this personallyyyy so i did it sooo fast 🙈 ima chunky gorl myself and with summer approaching things always get tough. i lot of what i wrote here is my own personal experience and shit so i don’t want anyone to think this is something they should feel or notice or be ashamed of! Just so you know!

warnings: SMUT 18+, gender neutral but use of clit, feral alastor, Human!alastor, kinda ooc in the way he is ravenous for reader sexually, reader doesn’t know he’s a murderer, self loathing, self hate, body worship maybe, biting breifly, alastor kinda rich or whatever for the time, insecure reader, plus size reader, body part like stomach thighs highlighted, crying, husband alastor, comfort from Al. swearing, lmk if there’s anything else! NOT PROOFREAD YALL

also i wanted to use junoisded ‘s work (on IG) but i don’t think they like things reposted unless asked and i am way to shy but go check them out their human alastor is mouthhhhh watering gawd

Closing the door behind you, you sat your bag on the table a sullen look on your face. It was particularly difficult week for you, it was getting warmer in New Orleans and when it got warm what was really meant was hot humid gross. It almost felt embarrassing at times to leave the house, the clothes companies made weren’t anything like what other people wore they were hideous, and you sweat, and just felt kind of self conscious.

Especially with Alastor. His popularity grew expeditiously over the last couple of years, with people now being able to recognize his voice all around. His popularity was a gift and a curse, a gift because you didn’t have to work through the stock market issues whereas many people your age did, and a curse because more women and men alike wanted him.

You weren’t jealous because Alastor made it pretty clear he only had eyes for you, however you couldn’t stop the comparison, you usually felt decent about yourself and your looks and Alastor made you more assured in your beliefs. But as more people would recognize him, and he’d give them that charming smile, and they’d flirt, you’d get a little jealous and insecure.

You walked into yours and Alastors shared bedroom, slipping off your shoes and looking into the mirror. You wanted to buy some nice clothing for an event you and Alastor were attending within the week, it was very hush puppy as it served contraband, however you couldn’t find anything at the market, and the tailors would be just too much to ask of Alastor.

Your lip quivered not with sadness but frustration, you just wanted to be at the same level as everybody else, without the issues, and being constantly told how to eat or use your body or dress yourself. Sitting on the bed your thighs spread out around you, stomach resting atop. Tears kept flowing pitifully as you took a moment to wrap your head around your spiraling thoughts. Taking a deep breath you wrapped your arms around your back, begining to take off the clothes that stuck to your sweaty body.

‘Loose leisure clothes.’ You chanted as you shook your trousers to your ankles and opened the drawers to your dresser. You remembered as you caught sight of one of Alastors red suit jackets, a gentleman who had commented that Alastor was far too small to lend his jacket to you on a cold night, which make you feel so bad about yourself. Slamming the drawer closed you cradled your head, this wasn’t fair, you would be ten times better with yourself if people weren’t so casually cruel.

You were okay, you were loved, but it seemed in other aspects of life people had to assure you weren’t due to how you looked. “My dear, what’re you doing all dressed down like this?” Alastors voice rang out joyfully. With a jump and a squeak your arms go to cover your body, however Alastor had already turned his back for you. “I’m so sorry sweetheart! I should’ve knocked!” Even though Alastor was being respectful, a nagging voice in the back of your head told you it was because he couldn’t stand the sight of you.

“Uhm, well you can look actually…” You muttered voice just above a whisper as you rubbed your arm. Alastors hands were on his hips, elbows pointed out head facing down, then he perked up head looking behind him. Smile present on his face his eyes shamelessly drank you up. “I couldn’t find any clothes,” You mutter your throat closing as the tears returned with the thoughts of before.

Alastors body finally turned his smile falling as he watched your from recoil away from his gaze. Stepping into the room his dress shoes clinked against the wooden floor as he approached you his arms outstretched to you. Immediately you fell into his embrace holding back the urge to cry, you wanted to be as strong as he was; smiling through no matter.

However when his hand began rubbing your back, soft words of worry falling from his lips, you lost it. Burying your face into his shoulder you cried, muttering your insecurities into him as he cradled you. “And Alastor they must think i’m a joke, you’re so small compared to me.” You cried out, pulling back to look into his chocolate eyes. Quickly he pulled a handkerchief from his vest pocket, his smile now a frown as he watched tears roll down your cheeks.

“My my, that’s the best part doudou. I love having flesh to bite, grip, squeeze,” Alastor grinned speaking through his closed teeth as he gripped your waist pulling your hips to his and you looked down hiding your face at his ridiculous nickname for you. “I feel proud to be able to feed you, my mother would be proud too, she’d absolutely love you. Worry not my dearest doe, i will have anything tailored to your need, and any crude bastard to comment on you I will hand slaughter the night of thee event, just to send a little message.” Alastor puffed his chest into you, his voice strangely dark and possessive, his eyes gleaming with pride as he kneaded your flesh beneath his fingers.

You never thought about it like that Alastor being able to properly provide for you, no; that was the fun of Alastor though he always knew how to twist things into something better than. Not to mention the idea of him being willing to commit a crime for you in the midst of a serial killer going around, that was something very special to you, strangely enough.

“Alastor you’re insane sometimes, but i love you.” You grinned finally, in turn making Alastors smile return larger then ever. Hands crawling up his chest and neck, you pulled him close and into a kiss. Your immediately Alastor gave into your tug, crashing his lips quickly onto your own roughly, his body grinding into your own as he did so, impatient to show you how much you mean to him though his psychical affections.

His hands gripped every little bit of flesh they passed, trailing up and down your body rolls and all, indulging his desire for you. You moaned lightly into his mouth when you felt the hard pressure of him pressed against your thigh. Alastor pulled away biting your lip as he did so, dragging it out. His eyes were lidded and one of his perfectly gelled curls fell forward and down touching the brim of his eyeglasses. “See how quickly you make me indecent my dear? Oh sweet doe, you make me so disgusting.” Alastor whined in a way, which you’d never heard, and stuffed his head into your neck, kissing, biting and sucking at your warm neck

“Alastor i’m sweaty!” You squeal as he dragged his tongue up your neck, biting at the flesh under you chin. “I know,” He mumbled quickly barely breaking away from decorating your neck. “So stop!” You huffed noncommittally as your hands came down to rest on his shoulders, lightly pushing him. “Why my little doe, you taste better this way.”

Alastor pulled back his coy smile on display as he did so, there was something so disbelieved and feral about how he looked despite not being unkept in the slightest. You felt slightly embarrassed by him admitting he liked you sweaty, but it was also comforting knowing that things you thought made you repulsive, actually attracted him.

“Come to bed with me, chérie?” Alastor hummed slyly, pulling your wrists gently toward the direction of the bed, where he was walking. “To sleep?” You asked flatly eyebrow raised, this caused a genuine laugh to bubble out of Alastors chest his head shaking just a bit. “No, and i think you knew that.” He whispered as he tugged you into him and then down onto the bed. You tensed as he did so, sitting up on your elbows you look at him and scold him.

You paused as Alastors gaze beat down on you hotly, it was sinful how he was looking at you with that cheshire grin on his face. He pulled off his glove with his teeth and used his degloved hand to remove the other one before he undid his vest, chucking it aside carelessly. You took a deep breath your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you watched him closely.

Yes you’ve had sex with Alastor before, although neither of you had a high libido so it wasn’t often, and when it was it wasn’t needy like now, no, it was loving, passionate. Alastor tossed his shirt aside crawling ontop of you right after, groaning as he pressed his bulged into the warmth of your thighs. Whimpering you covered your eyes unable to face the lustful look he was giving you.

His warm flesh melted into yours as he lowered himself ontop of you, his skin hot and sticky from being out in the louisiana heat, his breath tickled your skin as his lips dragged around your neck teasingly. “Gosh Al, I - you’re making me feel so- please.” You moaned quietly unable to place the feeling coursing through you. A mixture of wanting to beg him to devour you and wanting to hide yourself away from his heated gestures.

“What is is it you need, my dear?” His voice was sweet like honey as he breathed his sin into your ear, hand coming up under the leg hole of your undergarments, inching closer to your core. You breath was quievered as your hands found there way to his slightly musicled biceps, sinking your nails into them. Finally he backed up on his knees, and yanked down your undergarments, making you gasp.

Your husband has never been this, it made you dizzy and confused, why has he been hiding such ravenousness from you? Alastor looked down at you with pity, your legs reflexively closed before he could get a glimpse of your pretty. “Please darling don’t be modest, I need you more then ever now. I’m a starved man don’t you know? I need your quench.” You watched him as he spoke, his eyebrows knitted his face soft as he mockingly pleaded with you while he undid the button in his slacks and soon pulled down the zipper.

With jagged breaths you watched him disrobe, pulling his cock from his boxers and stroking it for you to see. Precum dripped from the tip and down his shaft, mixing into the dark coiled public hair at the base. “Oh fuck Alastor,” You whined looking away, you heard him chuckle at an octave you’ve never heard before. “What’s wrong darling? Can’t stand to see how perverse you make me? How cruel, honestly.” He huffed before his warm hands came to grip on your knees, yanking them apart. “My dear, you’re absolutely devine, you have no idea. It’s sickeningly cruel on my part, but I can’t help but be greedy about the way I only get to have you. In a world of commons, i get the rare.” Alastors hips slotted in between your thighs like many times before but this time you were so soaked you needed no foreplay. The head of his shaft prodded at your entrance, making your hips tilt forward attempting to gain friction and contact.

“Please Al, don’t make me beg you.” You moaned quietly, ashamed of how quickly you bent to his will. Alastor grinned down at you, admiring your body relaxed and needy beneath him. There wasn’t a soul he’d replace you for, you were everything and more. He could come clean about his murders and you’d kiss his cheek and serve him some whisky for his stress, because you were family, you were his.

Alastor slid into you slowly, feeling every inch of you against him, his thighs pressed against your own, he loved the feeling of you consuming him all at once. The way your body embraced his own was heaven on earth, you were his comfort that he didn’t deserved. As he watched you beneath him gasp, shake and moan as he sunk into slowly, harshly and repeatedly, he whispered sweet nothings to you. He let out a condescending chuckle while calling you a good pet, told you your body was his to love too and for shame for berating it.

You saw stars and he would slowly pull out and slam back in, believing that was the extent of this session. However, Alastor pressed his hips fully up against your own, kneading the softness of your belly as he stilled. Leaning down he captured you in a kiss, catching you off guard. You reciprocated fisting his curly hair and pulling him closer, which in response made him growl and grunt into you. He felt you clench around him at the sound, and in the moment decided he’d show you how good you make him feel, how much he loves you.

Suddenly Alastor pulled his hips back, and grinded back down into you, his public hair tickling your swollen clit, juices from your arousal squelching as he did so. This time he wasn’t slow, his pace was even and moderate, fucking you into the mattress so hard, the springs snapped, the wood creaked and you swore the bed frame was moving. Alastor pulled away from your swollen lips burying his face in your neck, he moaned for you.

You rolled your eyes back at the sounds he made, ahs, uhs and groans that were only for you. “Oh fuck Alastor i’m gonna cum,” You squeaked clenching your toes tightly as he jackhammered into you, breathing and gasping into your ear as he felt you grip him. Alastor wasn’t proud to admit it but he was too weak to respond, instead he bit down, sucking and groaning into your skin. His pace got clumsy as you cried out in ecstasy, coiling your body around him as you came harshly.

Your arm around his back, one arm around his neck and gripping his hair, and your legs tightly locked around your hips, yeah Alastor couldn’t resist himself from shooting strings into you. Your body jolted as he came shaking your while body, his grunts and whines making your sensitive hole clench him nearer. Without a warning his body collapsed ontop of yours, a deep breath escaping him as he finally relaxed. “I’ve never felt that before dear,” Alastor admitted after a moment of silence. “Me neither, made me forget about everything.” You say hazily, your voice lifted and raw from the noises you let out.

Alastor chucked his fogged glasses to the side, pulling himself out with a huff. Smiling sweetly you watched him gently place a kiss on your stomach and walk off. Sitting up you nearly went to call after him, before his naked body came waltzing back with a rag. “Wanna have a lazy evening in chérie?” You hummed approvingly, and attempted to take the rag, he scoffed at you and lightly pushed your hand away. Softly and embarrassingly so, he cleaned you from himself, enjoying the sight while he was at it.

Once finished Alastor returned the rag as you readied the bed, wanting to cuddle with him. Coming back in Alastor went to grab you both clothes before you called to him. “Can, well- i want to feel you still?” You questioned more than said. Shutting the drawer with a slam he grinned like the little cheshire he was and crawled into bed with you. You pulled him in and he you, nuzzling yourself into his chest you whimpered at the contact, feeling various emotions run through you.

“I chose you my dear, for many reasons not only your looks, your love, your passion but your body too, I love all parts of you, and I know how thoughtless people can be, I will protect you from those comments in the future.” Alastor whispers into your head kissing the top of it right after. You caressed his chest with your nails, throwing your leg over his torso. “Thank you Alastor. I love you too, hell there’s nothing that would make me not love you.” Alastor scoffed his grin returning. “Even murder?” He questioned angling his neck to the side to meet your eyes. Smiling up at him you gave a point nod. “Even murder.”

[foreingersgod]

ok hiiii! i’m the anon that asked for nika! sooo maybe a fic where reader is another players sister (or best friend, whatever you think would fit) and the player brings reader to a game and reader meets nika and it’s like love at first sight? maybe not as cringy as i made it sound lol, but i hope you get what i mean!

💗💗

to requester: i saw your other request and decided i’ll do them separately so we can enjoy more nika content!

Best Friends Sister . NM

pairing: nika muhl x reader

synopsis: you tag along with your parents for your sister’s game, not knowing it would be the best decision of your life.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

paigey: are you coming tonight with mom and dad or no?

you: only if you don’t hit me with another basketball then sure

paigey: i said i was sorry, dude. you should come though, i haven’t seen you for a minute

you: yea sorry, been busy and stuff. i’ll be there!

it was rare for you to attend your sister’s games on a regular basis. as much as you loved her and wanted to support, you were slammed with work and school and friends, the whole 9 yards. plus, watching millions of girls freak out over your sister was not your idea of a good time. but you’d been missing paige lately and wanted to show your sisterly support at least a few times this season.

so there you were, sitting outside your apartment on the concrete steps of the building, waiting for your parents to pick you up for the game. clad in UCONN attire, you picked at the weeds growing in between the cracks of stone.

arriving at the stadium, you could already sense the chaos. seeing all the girls there to see your sister play, it was a weird feeling. but once you made your way closer to the court with your family, seeing how happy paige looked out there, it made you feel insanely proud.

UCONN was up by 6 and your sister was killing it. being able to see her improvement throughout the game was truly rewarding to see. you cheered and hollered for each score until the end of the game finally rolled around, UCONN secured the win.

paige celebrated with her team for a few moments, reveling in their success before making her way to where you all sat. she greeted your parents with hugs, mom kissing her on the cheek and dad patting her back. then she maneuvered to you, dabbing you up before pulling you into a hug or your own.

“you killed it out there loser,” you congratulated “glad i got to see you play tonight, i’ve missed you!”

she laughed “thanks, me too”

paige worked her way around the rest of your family, taking time to chat with everyone. then she pulled you aside, motioning for you to follow her back down to the court.

“what?” you questioned, showing up at her side.

“thought i’d introduce you to everyone, plus aaliyah hasn’t seen you in forever and has been begging to see you”

you were always close with a few a her teammates, some of them being in paige’s life for so long that they became a part of your family. aaliyah, you were especially close with. but a lot of her other, newer teammates, you had yet to meet.

when you arrived on the court, paige leading you to the team, you started to spot some familiar faces. aaliyah ran over to you the second she saw you. pulling you into a bear hug and scolding you for not visiting more often. you greeted ice, too, congratulating her on a good game. it was nice to see them all again, catching up for lost time.

while in a conversation with aaliyah about how your job was going, paige politely pulled you aside again. she dragged you through the small crowd saying “i wanna introduce you to someone, i don’t think you’ve met yet”

finally, she stopped pulling you, coming to a halt just in front of the bench seats. paige was right, some girl you didn’t recognize sat on one of the seats, wiping the sweat from her brow and catching her breathe.

“hey, nika, i wanted to introduce you to my sister, YN!” paige said over the havoc of the stadium.

she looked up upon hearing paige summon her, eyes moving from paige’s and then to yours. she caught your attention right away, and suddenly, nothing else mattered once you locked eyes with the girl.

nika, you recalled paige calling her that, was the most beautiful girl you’d seen in your entire life. you studied every feature of her face right in that moment. her hair, you could only imagine how soft it was, pulled back in a near ponytail. her rosy cheeks, flush from exhaustion and excitement. her pearly white teeth that were so bright when she smiled at you. she was perfection if it were a person.

she was examining you as well, you could tell by the ways her eyes flickered between your eyes and down to your lips (triangle method iykyk). for a faint moment, it was just the two of you, lost in each others gaze. there was something about her, you couldn’t place it, but you wished you’d never have to look away.

unfortunately for you, your day dreams were interrupted when paige spoke up, confused by the silence.

“earth to nika” she waved her hand jokingly in front of her face “did you hear me? this is YN”

her eyes painfully pulled away from yours, looking at paige in surprise “right! sorry, i think i’m still a bit light headed”

she stood up, walking towards you and extending her hand out to you “very nice to meet you, YN, i didn’t know paige had a sister!”

your throat fell dry as you took her hand, gently shaking it. her touch lingered as her fingers swept against yours “nice to meet you too! yea i’m kind of all over the place and not around much so the team hasn’t seen a lot of me recently”

she eyed you again as you spoke. she tucked loose hairs behind her ear, smirking in a sultry manner.

“i get it, life’s busy” she bit her lip just enough for you to notice “but i’d..um-i’d like to see you around more”

“yea, hopefully i can stick around for a few more games” you joked, trying to hide how flustered you were.

“i’ll count on it” she said, then turned back to paige as she fumbled around in her bag, getting ready to leave “hey i gotta go catch up with a few people, but i’ll see you tomorrow?”

paige nodded, saying her goodbyes for the evening.

“see you around, YN” nika remarked, shoulder brushing against yours slightly as she walked past you, leaning in to whisper to you “and uh, do you think that maybe…maybe i could grab your number from paige or something? only if it’s ok with you”

you nodded your head vigorously, “yea, yes that’s more than ok with me”

she nodded back, flashing those dazzling teeth at you again before rushing across the court. you turned to face paige and saw the contorted look on her face.

“what the hell was that?” she asked.

“nothing” you suppressed a smile “it’s nothing”

that night, after the excitement of the game had worn off and you were back home, you were tucked into bed about to fall asleep. your phone buzzed abruptly, cashing you to roll over and pull it from its charger. your eyes squinted shut from the bright light of the screen.

unknown: hey is this YN? it’s nika :)

you didn’t have to think twice before responding and creating her contact.

you: it is, hi nika <3

nika: sorry to text you so late, paige was…very hesitant about giving me your number lol, but i was hoping i could take you out sometime if you’d want?

you: haha she’s annoying sometimes i’m sorry!

but i would love to you out with you!

nika: great! are you free friday? maybe 6ish?

you: definitely, it’s a date <3

you couldn’t stop smiling as you texted the rest of the night. who would have thought a basketball game would have changed your life completely?

[itaipava]

— on the rooftop.

ft: max verstappen x reader

genre: fluff <3

wc: 907

tw: none!

y/n: hiiiii

y/n: are you sleepinggggg?

y/n: rise and shine sleepyy princesss

not long after you sent those texts, you feel your phone vibrate in your hand and you answer on the second ring, pressing it to your ear.

“you’re drunk, aren’t you?” immediately comes the accusatory tone from the other end of the line, max voice still rough and scratchy from having just woken up.

“uhm…. barely”

there is a short pause until he asks with a softer tone, “are you safe? where are you right now?”

“rooftop. our rooftop. i want to watch the sunrise. come here pleasee”

another pause, but then you hear him sigh.

“i’ll be there soon”

before he even gets to your side, you can hear his lazy but firm footsteps. you look back and wave excitedly at him, and as he approaches you, the atmosphere is filled with a calm and cheerful feeling, but the clear annoyance in his eyes is hard to ignore.

“this is for me?” you ask, pointing to the extra hoodie he’s slung over his arm.

he answers your question by carelessly and playfully throwing it over your head before sitting down beside you.

when you quickly put it on, you don’t even hide how touched you are, “max, seriously, where have you been all my life? how could i live so long without you?”

“i was hiding from people like you”, he replies, his voice a little hoarse as he looks at the horizon.

you giggled, "you’re not very good at this then”

he doesn’t say anything about it and after a moment he asks “why were you drinking alone?”

“i wasn’t”, you laugh, “i was at a party in my friend’s house.”

“oh”

“it was sooo cool…”

his look of boredom does not go unnoticed. “so why are you here?”

you turn your head to look at him, your chin resting on the palm of your right hand. “i missed you,”

his eyes soften at your words, “i missed you too,” he says before continuing, “but it’s three in the morning... couldn’t you have waited a few more hours to miss me and annoy me?”

you’re torn between thinking up a response to his comment and melting internally because he just said he missed you; you decide to go with the last one, “did you miss me?”

he stares at you, “was that the only thing you heard?”

“nooope, but it’s the only thing that really matters,”

he shakes his head, unable to hide the small smile on his lips as his eyes admire yours for a few seconds before looking back to the city ahead.

“will you hold my hand?” it’s the alcohol that’s making you dare to ask. and now that it’s over, all you can do is wait while you look at that particularly large tree down the street.

you’re sure he’s going to refuse and say something sarcastic, but he doesn’t.

instead, he gently grasps your left hand with his right and wraps his fingers around the back of your hand. “do you prefer this way... or this way…” he says as he rotates his palm, intertwining his fingers with yours , making your heart start to race.

“this way,” your voice is low, almost breathless.

he smiles, “me too,”

“yeah?”

“yeah” he says, momentarily lifting your intertwined hands slightly to emphasise his point, “it’s harder to part that way.”

he meets your eyes and, in that moment, you’re overcome with this feeling of wanting to tell him how much you like him, and how much you want him - you know you like him a little too much and a little too intensely to be considered just friendly and platonic affections.

you’re about to tell him everything that’s been in your heart for so long, but as usual, he seems to read your thoughts.

“don’t,”

“do you know what i’m going to say?” you say looking at him, his look was a mixture of melancholy and love.

“yes,”

and for some reason, you don’t doubt his answer.

you let out a shaky breath, looking away from him and turning your eyes back to the world in front of you. “so is this your way of rejecting me?” you look at him, he looks straight ahead, then you give his hand a little squeeze, making sure it’s okay before you start pulling away.

his grip tightens, refusing to let go and you look at him, slight surprise and confusion evident in your eyes.

“i’m not rejecting you”, he starts before continuing with a soft sigh, “i’m here, aren’t it? i’m here on the roof at three-something in the morning, waiting for the sunrise that won’t happen for another two hours. and i don’t care about that... because you’re here,”

you can’t help but smile at his words and close your eyes briefly, allowing his words to sink in and finally enjoy being able to accept the fact that your feelings are reciprocated.

you break the silence, “so why don’t you let me say that?”

“y/n, you’re drunk. and so,”

“yeah yeah i guess.. but i’ve felt it for a looong time, trust me”

he is quiet, rubbing his thumb in a circle on the back of your hand. then he looks at you and says “tell me when you’re sober,” he pauses. “if you still feel that way,”

“alright,” you respond, locking your eyes with his, “i will”