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ghostwhippet · 6 months ago

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From Scratch

Nutrition Info: Johnny/Reader; 4k; a meetcute launched by Reader's inability to cook reasonable portions, and Johnny's... well, just Johnny

No matter how long you live alone, you can’t get the hang of cooking for one person. Even when you try to make a single-serving meal instead of batch cooking, somehow it balloons out of control. Wasting food makes you feel awful, but you can only freeze so much.

One evening, desperate and utterly fed up, you go kick gently at a neighbor’s door, both hands full, trying to mimic a knock with your shoe. Jason, you think his name was? Striking blue eyes, big frame, a cute cropped mohawk, amazing brogue, and he’s always been cordial when you’ve run into him around the building. Friendly, but not too friendly.

He’s understandably confused by your request at first, but seems happy enough for the food, and takes it around your repeated apologies–for bothering him, for existing, for anything you can find, really.

Unfortunately, not even forcing yourself to go and do all of that manages to pierce your shite sense of volume. Your trips to his door do get less awkward over time, though. And Johnny, his name is, always has sparklingly clean dishes and containers to return in exchange for the full ones.

Eventually he just starts showing up at your place instead and eats with you at your bar counter. He didn’t really ask, and you definitely didn’t, but there he is all the same, and… if you're honest? He’s just so easy to be around, it quickly feels natural having him there. He puts you off your guard, puts you at ease and makes you smile, like those are somehow the most natural things in the world.

From that first night, Johnny has insisted on helping with dishes. Starting the second, he’s always got groceries with him. Even manages to talk you out of your discomfort over accepting them, so well that on his fourth night, you’ve got a small shopping list ready. He’s cheeky, you don’t think he’ll mind. And he is right, after all: you're probably feeding him at least three or four nights out of the week, what with all the leftovers.

You start eating better, and trying new things you'd always planned on “getting around to,” now that you've got a reason to cook beyond not starving. Everything comes out fine the first time you make it, when you’re closely following a recipe, and Johnny has no qualms about trying anything you put in front of him. You’ve never met someone so genuinely un-fussy when it comes to food.

A couple months after he’s started eating at your place, he disappears for a while. “Work trip,” is all he'll say, and you don’t pry, even though you really want to.

Once he’s back, he starts coming over weekend afternoons sometimes. You do brunch with beer or fancy drinks in champagne flutes, or occasional breakfast on the roof before other people are awake, him in a big hoodie or jumper, and you wearing a thick blanket like it's trying to digest you, looking like a half-drowned cat because no living being is meant to be awake at such an hour.

You cut fruit into mangled flowers and vague geometric shapes for the brunches, usually while just spending time with him. He tries his hand at it once, with you pulling up videos, laughing the whole time you’re explaining how it’s supposed to work, and the utter bastard is better at it on his first go than you were after weeks. His hands are confoundingly steady, and his hand-eye coordination borders on the unnatural.

That’s probably the official start of his sous chef arc. And that’s what has him spending a night judging your knives and marveling, repeatedly and loudly, that you still have all your fingers.

You might put a piece of eggshell into his omelet that night in retaliation, and he might not even have the decency to react to it.

“...Johnny I can hear it crunching, oh my God would you spit it out!” You manage between laughter that’s got your face hurting.

That happens a lot around him. Smiling so much it hurts.

“Nah, i’s nice texture,” he says around the mouthful, then starts enunciating the longer words. “Very advanced technique. Shows a great awareness of the culinary experience–”

“You’re being such a prat. Why are you being such a prat!”

He talks over you as if he can’t hear you, as if he’s doing some mockingly posh review. “And honestly, the crunching–” he pauses and chomps down on the shell for effect, and how is it still intact, “it really engages the senses. Keeps me immersed in my dining experience.”

You regret loaning him your cooking books. Never again.

After that, though, he steals your knives, takes them home, and they come back so sharp you can cut windowpane slices of potato. He offers to teach you how to do it yourself–after stipulating with heart-clenching eagerness that he’s happy to come over and do it for you any time.

Johnny gets weirdly into shopping farmer’s markets, walking around discovering new produce and varieties of things he’s never seen before. “Fuck would I know tomatoes come in this color? Look at this thing, it’s like a feckin’... it’s a wee lumpy sunset, isn’t it? And this! Like someone took the heart of a dragon,” his voice had gone terribly dramatic, and you definitely hadn’t covered your face, “and stuck it on a bush somewhere.”

“Baby how are you so huge, but so adorable?” You don't know when the pet names started, but you know he started them; sometimes it feels like you two grew up together.

You like the challenge of the new and unexpected ingredients that come from his trips, and by this point, he’s keeping your kitchen pretty stocked with whatever oddball pantry items you ask for, so you're set up to deal with almost anything. But on rare occasions he’ll call you with a question, too. You’ve had each other’s numbers for a while, it just made coordinating easier.

“Oi can you make sommat with uh… fiddlehead ferns?”

You always can, whatever he asks about. It just takes a quick internet search to find out if you can tackle it that same night, or if it needs to wait for another day. Sometimes it ends up disastrous, but like a shot, Johnny has you laughing or throwing something at him (usually-but-not-always also while laughing) before guilt or shame can get a proper foothold.

There was a night when he was too excited about something to wait for you to answer the door when he knocked, and since then, he just sort of comes in on his own after he announces himself—at least when you know to expect him. That feels right, too, just like having him at your counter had.

You’re feeding the both of you almost every night of the week by now, even if you’re still not cooking often. You like being around him so much, you can’t imagine doing it less, not even when cooking is the last thing you want to be doing. It’s like there’s a bubbly little sun in your chest when he’s around.

Johnny makes you so happy, in fact, and you’re so afraid of losing your time with him, it’s nearly six months before the first time you have to tap out of a dinner, too knackered to make yourself even casually presentable, nevermind cook so much as instant noodles.

He reacts like it’s no problem at all, which of course he’d do, because he’s wonderful, but you don’t manage to keep your heart from dropping that he’s not at least a little sad. That he doesn’t, maybe, look forward to the nights like you do. You know your arrangement is practical, and he’s never been over unless there was food involved, but… well… seeing him seems to have become rather… vital to you.

Which means it’s better to put it away, anyhow, right?

So when, an hour after you’d texted him and basically all he’d said was No problem, thinking takeout, any votes?, he’s coming through your front door with delivery bags and talking a mile a minute like it’s just another night, you're left with your mouth open and your hand on the knob, because… because he's here.

You're not cooking, but he's still here.

You just stand there gobsmacked as he sits on the couch, nattering away, half the food out before he even realizes you’re still playing doorstop. He asks if you’re having the time of your life or if you’re going to come sit down, those horrible (wonderful) crinkles at the sides of his eyes, brows pulled up in the middle.

He looks confused when you say you want to freshen up, like he can’t see that your hair might’ve lost a row with a feral rodent, or that you’re wearing clothes that shouldn’t even be outside of a bin, nevermind on a person. He just tells you the food will get cold, and that it’ll be no good that way.

So you run your hands through your hair and sit, subdued and uncertain like you haven’t been around him in ages, as he amiably fills the silence. You know he can tell you’re not right, but he’s just… acting like it’s ok that you aren’t.

Midway through the meal, he reaches forward to grab a container and put it in front of you, and it makes his knee come up against yours.

It doesn’t move away when he sits back.

Then, as the night wears on and the very most jagged edges of your weariness have eased, he makes a joke and you bump your shoulder into him in retaliation. It pushes your legs flush… and neither of you do anything to separate them. He just keeps on being Johnny like nothing is different, like nothing strange is happening, like he can’t see how bloody flushed you must be, like the room hasn't turned to glass and burst, leaving the both of you toppling through the air.

You're not stupid, so you have to tell yourself repeatedly that he’s just trying to comfort you. He’s acting completely normal otherwise—for Johnny—and you look like a person in need of a friend tonight. And same as him, you’re at all your meal nights instead of off with friends or dates. At least for him, it’s because of his career. You haven’t even seen him bringing up a new fling in ages.

…You’re not stupid. Right?

After the food is finished, Johnny putters about cleaning up, working his way around your kitchen like he knows it exactly as well as he does. He puts all but one container of leftovers in your fridge.

You hug your knees comfortably, just sort of watching him, too full of static to be paranoid about it, and he either doesn’t realize or isn’t bothered by it. Not being a complete creep, you don’t keep it up for too long, anyhow. You’ve got plenty to occupy your thoughts.

He surprises you on his way out by casually setting a mug in front of you. He’d made you something hot to drink while he was cleaning up, and you were so spaced you hadn’t realized. He just gives you a little smile, a gentle squeeze on the shoulder with a stroke of his thumb, says, “Wednesday, yeah?” (the night of your next normal get-together), and moves on toward the door. All normal. But there’s some metal in your chest painfully bending itself into unaccustomed shapes, jabbing places that aren’t used to the pressure, pushing into your windpipe until it’s hard to breathe, and you can’t stop yourself from telling him that you made up a new seasoning blend for popcorn, if he’d maybe like to watch a movie before he goes.

He stands there by the door looking at you just for a split second too long, opens his mouth, closes it, then settles right back onto the couch up next to you. He reaches out an arm and pulls you gently into his side, moving in a way that makes it an invitation and not a demand, while he’s talking about what to watch.

You fall asleep there. So does he.

Things turn a bit funny after that in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. At the surface, everything is the same. But nothing feels the same. Every time there’s a tease, casual touches, close quarters, you have to chant not stupid not stupid not stupid on repeat in your head. He’s just Johnny, that’s all. The guy you could have grown up with.

You keep up the dinners and the weekends, and eventually, finally realize that with him around to take all your extras, you can bake. It’s something you’ve wanted to try forever, but recipes don’t really make single servings, and you never had anyone to pawn off the other 22 muffins or ¾ of the cake onto, or the sheet of croissants, because you absolutely want to try the most fussy, difficult things. And it turns out, when at last he tells you what he does, that Johnny works at the local military base–which at least explains his size–so if he can’t polish something off, well, he knows some blokes.

You’re so excited after that, things almost seem to return to normal. He even comes over and hangs out while you’re baking sometimes. Just knocking about, licking the beaters and the spoons and the bowls, doing dishes as you go, fidgeting with this or that, all while knowing you’re equally as likely to produce something inedible as you are a treat.

Johnny tells you a little about his career one evening. He says that it means he’s in real danger often, there’s a lot of secrecy with people in his personal life, long absences and surprise ones, shit pay, and likely a brief expiration date. (You don’t really let that last one in). He’s got a bit of a funny look in his eyes when he shares about all of it. Quite focused on you, in a way? It makes your cheeks heat. It isn’t as if it’s on you to approve of his life.

But at least now you understand why he’s on his own. And you suppose you’re a bit small, because while you’re incredibly sad for him, part of you is thrilled that it means he’s not likely to be swept away by someone else too soon.

You just gather yourself up, smile, and tell him that at least he’s spending the time he has as best he can, which is a hell of a lot more than a lot of people do–although you personally hope there’s a lot more of it. And that… at the end, you're glad for all the times you're involved.

Johnny’s leaning against the counter while you fold nuts and rum-soaked fruit into a thick batter, his normally busy hands jammed into his pockets, posture a bit off, and so close you almost keep elbowing him on accident, the two of you just bantering back and forth.

You turn your head toward him to fire back, and–

–his mouth is just there, on yours.

He lingers, but doesn’t move otherwise. It’s… testing, you think. You feel his lips shake against yours, in fact, just once.

Your shock dies fast and your eyes slip closed, and while it’s a brief kiss, when he pulls away, you don’t open them. You can’t. Because if you’re honest, you’ve probably been gone for him since the first time you gave him a friendly hug goodnight, and it’s only ever gotten worse. If you open your eyes, this won’t be real, or it won’t have happened, or it will shatter somehow.

After a pause, he runs the back of a finger down your temple, trailing the side of your face to your jaw. You still won’t open your eyes, so he just toys with your face until you do.

He’s got a soul-crushing smile at the corners of his eyes.

“Been wanting to do that for a long time,” he admits into the quiet.

“...Oh?” Your voice is embarrassingly, unhelpfully breathy. It’d probably be mortifying, if you had the mental capacity to fully register embarrassment at the moment.

He pauses, smile making its way to his lips, and curling them up at the corners, bit by bit. He cants his head, just a little, like he wants to see you from another angle. “Aye. …Might’ve been since the first time I saw you at the mailboxes.”

“Oh?”

That had been one of the first times you remember ever seeing him. He never said a word to you other than, “Mornin’” or “Evenin’,” if he said anything at all.

His smile blooms until you can see his teeth. “You were wearing this little shirt. Green, thin. Bit worn, like it was a favorite. Showed a wee spot of skin at your back.” His fingers brush the spot, soft and testing, near the base of your spine, and it jolts you from scalp to toes. “Might’ve… lost some time, thinking about what it’d feel like if I slid my hand up there.” He toys with the hem of your shirt and steps in, voice going deeper and rougher around the edges. “Might’ve imagined pushing it up, getting a bit closer. Really might’ve imagined putting your back up to the slots, mo–”

You kiss him this time, before he can go on, and it’s anything but testing.

And just like everything else about him, this fits.

His mouth fits against yours. His body fits against yours. And as if some band of control snaps, so abruptly you swear you feel it jolt through his skin, he's got you up on the counter, his thighs between yours, both of you already breathing hard.

His hands on you are perfect, calloused, slipping up under the back of your shirt, smoothing and gripping, making your chest and your thighs feel molten. It's ravenous, like he just has to touch your skin, has to get you closer. You arch toward him, fingers running up through his hair, legs curling around his and pulling him nearer.

His hips are carefully, stubbornly, infuriatingly back from you, but the kiss is so full of need, so close, that some of his breaths sound hollow against your mouth. It's like he can't decide whether inhaling or devouring you is more important, so he just doesn't choose.

When you're at the point of moaning unintentionally, of hungry little sounds forcing their way out of your chest, of your hips moving against the counter in desperation, when you're moments from outright begging, Johnny pulls back, and goes further when you try to chase his mouth.

His lips are red and full, his face dark--much worse when he catches sight of how completely drunk you must look--and he's panting. His fingers dig into your hips like he's trying to keep one or both of you from drowning. He squeezes his eyes shut.

You don't mean to, you really don't, but you look down, and lord help you but–

“That looks painful,” you tell him. Your voice sounds like it's been run over a washboard. He's tented against his denim, and his size is… proportional.

…You can't seem to remember how to make yourself look up.

“Really rather not talk about my cock just now, love,” he gravels, fingers clenching briefly against you. His head tips forward onto your shoulder, breaths panting out against your collar bone, leaving you to pick up every bit of heat he's trying to get out of himself.

You hum, teasing. “Shame, because I can't think of anything I'd rather talk ab—”

His big paw covers your mouth. “For the love of every Saint, I’m beggi—”

You cut him off right back. By licking his palm.

He recoils in horror, but the moment your eyes meet, you both burst into laughter, made worse every time he tries to tell you how disgusting that is, something about his sisters as kids, you don't know what else.

You're the first to sober, breathing almost back to normal, thoughts already whirring on fast-forward. You look down, pulling your knees together, hands gripping the edge of the counter. “Are we…. Will we be ok, after this?”

You peek up to see him looking at you like you're daft.

“‘S been the better part of a year,” he says softly, moving forward and running his thumbs over your knees. Asking your legs to make room again, to let him get close again. “Have you really not figured it out, all this time?”

Your legs open hesitantly, and he steps in and, when you look up at him, kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, slow and warm and so tender it feels like your chest is cracking right down the center.

Eyes closed, brows a little pinched, you murmur, “We can't all be SAS savants, Johnny.” Maybe you know. Maybe. But it has been all this time, so maybe you need to hear it, too.

He's still kissing, pace unhurried and savouring, making his way to your jaw and just beneath it. But it's calming now, somewhere between reverential and still trying to bring the both of you down. Himself especially, you think.

“Then let me spell it out for you. Gladly.” He noses up against the bottom of your ear and roughs, “You are fucking stuck with me. Glued. Bloody welded.” He huffs a laugh and leans back upright—but not all the way, not too far back. “This isnae a new thing for me. You know that, right? I just….” He shakes his head and abandons the thought, “Hell, my mates have already been asking when they can come over for dinner, the dobbers.”

Your brows shoot up. “You've talked about me at work?”

He looks down, and while his face is in half a scowl, you'd swear he does it to hide a slight flush, too. “Haven't shut up about you, more like. Should hear what my Lieutenant– Ach, nevermind that.”

You hurry to say that they're welcome any time, but it makes him scowl fully.

“Not exactly keen on the idea just yet.” He puts his arms around you, buries his face in your neck, and just stands there, breathing you in. He mutters into the crook of your shoulder, “Mind if I stay like this for a bit? Just while I, uh… calm down.”

His hips are still well back from you. You’re not sure you’ve ever adored and hated him so much at once.

“I’d really like that,” you tell him softly, arms going around his ribs, hands on his shoulders, chest to chest.

It's warm and resounding like this, so after a spell, without thinking, you bite his shoulder. Just sink your teeth in and leave them there. It’s not even entirely conscious, it's just so comfortable and comforting.

“All good, there, wee piranha?” he eventually asks, a smile in his voice.

You detach instantly. “Ah, sorry! I, uh, might have a tiny bit of an oral fixation.”

He groans. “Are ye trying to do me in?”

“I’m not the one who said we had to stop, Mr. Military Discipline.”

His eyes darken in a flash, but he tamps down on it just as quickly and gets that godawful cocky look on his face, instead. “Pardon me for not wanting to rush something that really matters.” His tone goes so soft at the end that you can’t even be mad at him--exactly as you know he intended, the great bastard.

“How did I not know what a sadist you are?”

And that look means he’s about to make you eat your words.

“Johnny I will happily kill you in your sleep.”

“I could handle that. Means you'd be in my bed, aye?”

He pulls your hands up from the death grip they've found on the edge of the counter and laces your fingers together. “I dinnae….” He clears his throat, frowns. “Just being away on deployment is shite now, and I love what I do. But I miss you while I'm gone, think about you back here all the bloody time, and we havnae even….”

When he doesn’t finish, you whisper, heart clenching with the realization, “You really don't want to rush this.”

He laughs quietly like he wants to argue. But what he says is, “No. I don't. But while that's true….” He steps in, chin ducking, eyes darkening even as they shine, voice lowering. “What do you say we turn the oven off? I've a funny feeling you willnae be getting around to that bake today.”

Masterlist

#johnny soap mactavish #cod soap #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #johnny mactavish #slow burn #friends to lovers #060 #meet cute #comfort fic #demisexual #fluff #johnny x reader #cod

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irisintheafterglow · 5 days ago

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you make loving fun

summary: last time you checked, itoshi sae was terrible with children...right?

cw/tags: crack...just a lot of bllk boys interacting with kids, established relationship, ooc sae if you squint, occurs just after u-20 game

wc: 2.5k

note: this was meant to just be a drabble but ended up being a one-shot so...surprise! this came to me in a dream LMAO so hopefully it makes sense.

as you carefully line up the excited kids outside of the blue lock complex, you're almost grateful that ego doesn't greet you; from anri's descriptions of him, it sounded like he would frighten the children from ever thinking of a soccer ball ever again. it's just her, a few security guards, and--

"oh my god, is that itoshi sae?"

you stiffen and look up from your clipboard, something between leaping and sinking occurring in your heart. he wore his signature bored expression, but you could catch the corner of his mouth twitch when he made eye contact with you. ever the drama queen, your boyfriend (whose relationship status was yet to be disclosed to the public) had failed to inform you that he would be making an appearance at the first-ever 'blue lock youth outreach day,' considering that he had nothing but dry observations after the u-20 game. you were under the impression that he wanted nothing to do with the program, and figured that his sudden participation was a way to get back at you for being so consumed with work.

in hindsight, the collab seemed like a good enough idea. you, the pr manager of the largest youth soccer league in the country, and anri, an acquaintance you'd met through piano lessons who conveniently has a job in the most cutting-edge soccer training program in history. it was a headache, at first, especially with a certain moody player from madrid trying to convince you that it was a waste of time (anything was a waste of time if it wasn't with him). but, dozens of emails and a stack of field trip signatures later, you were loading thirty of the brightest soccer minds you knew--albeit between the ages of eight and thirteen--onto a school bus and headed toward the pentagonal fortress in the mountains.

"what are you doing here?" you ask him as evenly as possible while anri guides you and the kids through the maze of concrete hallways. "you hate children."

"hate is a strong word," he deadpans, his attention flicking to you when you answer with nothing more than an eyeroll. "can i not support the next generation of footballers?"

"you don't even support the current generation," you mumble. "i think it's fair to say this isn't usually your kind of event."

"it is when my partner has been ghosting me for it," he replies. some would think sae's declaration is nothing more than a push of your buttons, but you know him well enough that he was being purposefully petty. "i came to see what the big fuss is about."

"ghosting is a strong word," you mimic. he smirks, just barely. "radio silent, sure, but not enough for you to fly across the world to see some people you don't even like."

"god forbid i do something like miss you, cariño," he remarks with unexpected fondness underneath the blankness of his expression. "as professional and secretive as we keep things, your absence from my life is always noticeable."

"i was gonna call you later," you offer, and he narrows his eyes. "give you updates on how successful the event was and whatnot."

"phone calls aren't enough," he concludes. "i am here to support you, not whatever the brass are trying to concoct."

"how romantic," you chuckle. "i hope you'll play nice today, then?"

"only for you. not anyone else."

"with the kids and the blue lock players?" something in his jaw tightens, but he relents nonetheless.

"fine. i will be cordial with them, too."

"you really do love me." you can't help the grin that breaks onto your face, but you're back to perfect professionalism a second later. with his phone on silent and one of his managers mitigating the rest of his team, he was content to breathe the same air as you before the chaos of being a football star reinvaded his life.

"mmm, something like that." for now, this was his closest thing to peace.

the other blue lock players seem to mirror your initial shock from sae's presence, though most of their demeanors change upon the entrance of the young, prospective soccer stars. the kids are chomping at the bit to get their cleats on and practically climb over each other to start drills with each player. the files anri had sent to you proved handy, as you instantly recognized who was who based on the skills they were teaching the kids.

bachira had half a dozen following him through a dribbling drill, their movements all in perfect precision like a line of ducklings. when one ball went astray, he shifted the entire formation in a lesson on 'improvising.' yukimiya and karasu, similarly, were teaching how to steal from a player whose dribbling leaves your head spinning.

chigiri was running sprints with his group, one by one, and advising them when their best opportunity would be to accelerate based on what he observed. he had a line spanning half the field, eagerly waiting to race the fastest striker in the program like he was a carnival game. aryu provided additional recommendations on when to leap and use height as a weapon, something the youngest and shortest kids quickly internalized with a sparkle in their eyes.

nagi didn't say much, which was fine, since reo was there to fill in his blanks; the kids in their group were currently balancing balls on various parts of their bodies, including every possible angle on their foot.

barou, to your surprise, was not running a drill at all. instead, he had started a demonstration on how to properly braid the girls' hair back, how to do it on oneself, and how to do it on others. when you ask anri about it, she shrugs and explains that he has two sisters. you didn't question where he got all the hair ties from.

sitting against the wall, isagi was patiently making conversation with some of the quieter kids who tended to be more shy in new situations. they fidgeted with the grass beneath their fingers and smiled at him as they opened up about where they wanted to go with soccer. rin stood an awkward distance away and would stare at you occasionally, like he was trying to figure you out. guess both itoshi brothers have a habit of brooding and glaring.

you were making a point to avoid over-observing your boyfriend, but couldn't help noticing that he truly did not have a knack for coaching. interacting with children was never sae's strong point, and you tended to be the one to get down on their level and speak in a manner understandable to them. sae, on the other hand, once told you, verbatim, "kids are odd things. how do people deal with them?" thankfully, the kids in his group were too starstruck to notice how aloof their leader was and dutifully followed him through the same old drills their normal coaches ordered.

it was all fun and games until the children came up with a game they affectionately called 'steal from sae.' the goal was simple: steal the ball from sae as he tried to travel from one end of the field to the other and make a goal. the game started out as a group of five versus one, which he cleared without breaking a sweat. then, the five called over five of their friends, which soon turned into fifteen, which ultimately became the entire group of thirty children descending upon your boyfriend. the blue lock players observed the first few rounds from the sidelines, sadistically amused by the new challenge inflicted on the older itoshi brother. that is, until he barely dodges a wave of ten children and precisely positions the ball with the outside of his foot...right in front of isagi.

"let's go, rin's shadow," sae taunts and takes off, leaving a bewildered isagi to receive the ball in a panic and abruptly start running from the herd of youth-sized cleats coming his way.

"oh, wow, there's a lot of you," isagi nervously stutters. seven of your thirty break off to mark sae; the rest surround isagi, who makes a snap decision to send a long pass to the nearest person outside of the shrinking circle. "all up to you now, rin!" the second itoshi is fast, but chigiri's pupils are quick studies. three runners come at rin from the front, left, and right, blocking his passing opportunities.

"good acceleration, everyone," praises chigiri from the sidelines and rin fixes him with a scowl.

"shouldn't you be helping me, half-baked hair? let's see you get in on this mess," rin snarls, though it only hypes up the kids more.

"aww, are the little people stressing you out, rin?" yukimiya asks patronizingly, dancing around a group trying to corner him.

"shut your mouth, glasses. we're outnumbered here," rin shoots back, a little redder in the face. "and you all stress me out enough." if there was anything that amped up the kids' competitive spirits, it was seeing their opposition get riled up. though chigiri is completely open when rin passes him the ball, one of otoya's stealthy proteges makes quick work of stealing the ball and running it toward the opposite end, away from sae's goal.

"alright, show me what you learned, kiddo," karasu challenges as he rushes the mini-ninja, though you could tell he wasn't using all of his energy. none of them were, and you theorize that the blue lock players were actually enjoying this little back and forth between them and the kids. the game was a chance to not only play as one huge team, but also assess how much the next generation grasped from their lessons. from the way ten kids were now marking sae and the rest were attempting to curb karasu's trajectory, it seemed the odds were somewhat even.

otoya's student makes a short pass to one of bachira's, whose eyes are practically glowing as the ball weaves in and out of her legs like a snake. she and eight other girls have matching dutch braids keeping their hair out of their eyes, the day's crown achievement for barou.

"steal from her and i kill you, isagi!" he bellows despite being a blue lock player, barreling toward his team's incoming strikers and clearing a path for one of his girls to get closer to the other goal.

"i wasn't going to!?" your youngest kids are currently trapping isagi in a bear hug, preventing him from getting anywhere close to the ball. "i'm a little preoccupied!"

those in barou's path split with all the urgency of running from a freight train, leaving the girl to run freely down the middle. anri has appeared by your side and is watching with delight, snapping photos and taking videos that were sure to end up as positive pr for blue lock.

you catch him stalking up the right flank, evading children in one-on-ones and making steady progress toward the ball.

"watch out for sae! watch out for sae!" you call out and his head snaps to you, a look of bewilderment at your betrayal overtaking his carefree face. before he can get the ball, your kids run and tackle him, dogpiling on top of his body until the whistle sounds in the kids' victory. they cheer, still smothering your boyfriend, and you tense in anticipation of his harsh command to get them off of him.

but the only noise is whoops of celebration, high-fives, and pats on the back.

and when you catch a glimpse of sae's face as he's trapped under a mountain of giggling children, he's smiling.

---

later, when you're lying with your back against his bare chest and his forearm securely across your waist, you muster up the courage to ask.

"so, do you still hate kids?" he can hear you suppressing your smirk. he hums thoughtfully against your shoulder, the reverberation sending goosebumps across your arms.

"i need to get to know people to hate them."

"and?"

"didn't get to know 'em enough," he murmurs. "guess i'll just have to visit you again at work. for professional reasons, obviously."

"yeah," you agree, flipping to face him and brushing a strand of pink hair from his pretty face. he catches your fingers in his and kisses your knuckles, settling your hand right above his heart. "professional reasons."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x y/n #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #bllk fluff #bllk imagine

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mrgoldmc26 · 4 months ago

Text

Blackpink's Crazy Night in Paris Part 1 ft. Lisa

Tags: Blowjob, facefuck, anal, pussy eating, creampie, dirty talk, cum swallowing and more...

Word Count: 8.7k

A/N: First time posting here on Tumblr. I write and post all my stuff on AO3, but decided to make the jump to Tumblr thanks to a friend. I'm a relatively new K-Pop fan, and he's helped me find out a lot about new groups, songs and idols over these past few months. Before I met him, I only knew about Blackpink and IVE, and now I actually think I stan more groups and idols than him 🤣

Anyways, I think that for the next few days, I will keep this account as an only K-Pop account, but I could change my mind at any minute and post my other series in here too. I will create a masterlist very shortly as well, in which I will also mention which groups and idols I'm planning to write about in the future.

I'm really excited to start my Tumblr journey with you all. I follow a lot of K-Pop smut writers in here, and I hope that I can bring something to the community with my stories. My main kinks are gangbangs, blowjobs, dirty talk and facials, so expect a lot of stories like that 😝

I'm gonna try to do what I do on AO3, and reply to every comment, but because I'm new to this platform and UI, it's gonna take a while before I get used to it. Also, really wanna do those smutty asks that I see my favourite writers do once in a while, so send me those.

Anyways, sorry for wasting your time with this long ass A/N. I hope you enjoy the chapter ❤️

The following is a Fan Fiction and should be treated as such.

On the evening of September 28, 2023, as the sun dipped below the Parisian skyline, the area surrounding 12 Avenue George V buzzed with an electric anticipation. The iconic Crazy Horse cabaret, known for its avant-garde performances, was about to host a night that would be etched in the history of the entertainment business, as Blackpink's Lisa was set to perform.

Outside the venue, a sea of paparazzi had gathered, their cameras poised to capture the arrival of the evening's distinguished guests. The soft hum of conversations was occasionally punctuated by the flash of bulbs, illuminating the cobblestone streets in brief, dazzling bursts.

The first few guests started to arrive, and not too long after, Lisa's bandmates (Jisoo, Jennie, and Rosé) made their presence known. Dressed in chic ensembles that effortlessly blended sophistication with modern flair, they stepped out of their sleek black limousine, offering polite smiles to the sea of photographers. Their presence was a testament to the unbreakable bond shared among the Blackpink members, each there to support Lisa's solo endeavors.

Moments later, the atmosphere grew even more charged as the President of France, Emmanuel Macron, accompanied by the First Lady, made their entrance. Their attendance highlighted the significance of the event, bridging the worlds of politics and entertainment. The President, with a cordial nod to the crowd, escorted his wife through the grand entrance, both exuding an air of elegance befitting the occasion.

The exclusivity of the evening event was palpable. With only 250 seats available, the guest list was an exclusive collection of Lisa's closest associates, influential billionaires, and visionaries from various industries. Famous athletes, chart-topping singers, and renowned actors, many of whom had crossed paths with Lisa in her illustrious career, gathered to experience a performance that promised to be nothing short of extraordinary. Among the most notable attendees were Latin pop sensation Rosalía, known for her genre-blending style that combines flamenco with urban sounds, and Tyga, a well-known rapper with a series of charting hits.

Also in attendance was the PSG football team, who turned out in full force for the exclusive event. Among the many noteworthy figures of the squad, two stood out, with the first being Kylian Mbappé, the club's star player. He was one of the highest-paid footballers globally, with his immense popularity reflected in his social media following of over 100 million Instagram followers, a testament to his global influence both on and off the field.

The other noteworthy figure of the PSG squad was actually Nasser Al-Khelaifi, the president and CEO of Paris Saint-Germain. With an estimated net worth of around $300 million, Al-Khelaifi exuded the wealth and power that comes with his position. His fortune and influence in the sports world were undeniable, and therefore, it wasn't a surprise to see him at the prestigious event.

The gathering was a testament to Lisa's wide-reaching impact and her ability to draw in the most powerful figures from various spheres of influence, all of whom had come together for an unforgettable evening.

Upon entering the cabaret, guests were greeted by an ambiance that seamlessly blended classic Parisian charm with contemporary allure. The intimate space was filled with rows of plush velvet seating, each chair arranged meticulously to offer a perfect view of the stage. The deep red color of the furniture contrasted elegantly with the dim, golden lighting, casting a warm glow that enveloped the room.

The stage itself was a masterpiece of minimalist design. A polished ebony floor stretched out, flanked by cascading crimson curtains that hinted at the mysteries they concealed. Above, an intricate array of lights hung, poised to bathe the performers in a spectrum of colors and patterns, setting the tone for each act.

As the guests settled into their seats, a hush of anticipation descended upon the room. Soft murmurs filled the air, with attendees speculating about the evening's performance. Champagne glasses made soft clinking sounds, and the light scent of perfumes filled the air, combining to create an enchanting atmosphere.

As the clock struck 9, the lighting gradually dimmed, drawing the audience's focus entirely toward the stage, as the gentle hum of conversation faded into an anticipatory hush. A single spotlight pierced the darkness, illuminating the velvet curtains as they parted with a graceful sweep. The orchestra, hidden from view, began to play a haunting melody, its notes weaving through the air and drawing the audience further into the spell of anticipation. As the melody built in complexity, subtle rhythmic beats emerged, layering energy into the atmosphere. Slowly, the music swelled, and the velvet curtains parted to reveal the first act. The performers burst onto the stage with electrifying energy, their intricate dance routine seamlessly blending classic burlesque with contemporary choreography. They moved in perfect harmony, their glittering costumes catching the light with every twist and turn, creating a mesmerizing display of color and movement for the guests.

In between the acts, champagne glasses clinked softly, and servers offered trays of elegant finger foods. Guests nibbled on small, bite-sized snacks like soft, flaky pastries filled with creamy cheese, along with smoked salmon served on delicate crackers. There were also sweet pastries filled with smooth cream and a hint of chocolate. These refined treats, paired with the finest champagne, were just enough to keep the guests satisfied without distracting from the captivating performance unfolding before them.

Each subsequent act brought a unique flair to the stage, from sultry solos to daring acrobatic performances, each designed to keep the audience captivated. The air in the cabaret was charged with excitement, the performers delivering an enticing blend of skill and sensuality that left the crowd mesmerized. While the audience applauded generously for each act, there was an unspoken sense that these were but tantalizing preludes to the main event. The murmurs between performances carried a single thread: anticipation for Lisa’s debut.

Backstage, Lisa steadied herself for her debut as a 'Crazy Girl.' The faint hum of the audience filtered through the velvet curtains, a symphony of murmurs and clinking champagne glasses that signaled their anticipation. She adjusted the feathered mask in her hands, its sleek black feathers accented with tiny crystals that caught the dim backstage lighting. As she slipped it on, she couldn’t help but smirk softly. Tonight, she wasn’t just performing. She was about to shock everyone in attendance. They had come expecting a show, but none of them truly believed Lisa would push the boundaries too far. They’d soon realize how wrong they were.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened her posture and stepped into the wings, her heart pounding in rhythm with the crescendo of the orchestra. As the stage manager gave her the cue, she walked into the light.

The applause erupted instantly, cheers and whistles rolling over her like waves. The guests leapt to their feet, clapping and whistling, their excitement palpable in the air. The chairs stretched out in neat rows, each one filled with a captivated guest, but Lisa’s eyes instinctively found three very familiar faces in the front row. Jennie, with Jisoo to her left and Rosé to her right, were seated directly in Lisa's line of sight, their presence adding a familiar comfort as she stepped onto the stage. Lisa’s expression remained serene, her features unreadable behind the mask that framed her piercing gaze. She exuded control, poised and untouchable, her presence commanding the room. The applause softened after several seconds, and the guests slowly returned to their seats, still caught in the lingering admiration for her.

Her outfit was an intricate masterpiece of decadence and allure. The feathered mask was paired with a collar necklace of white diamonds, shimmering brilliantly and drawing attention to her elegant neck. Draped over her shoulders was a fitted, tailored jacket encrusted with emeralds and black sapphires, their deep green and midnight hues reflecting the stage lights in a mesmerizing dance. The jacket hugged her waist, sculpting her figure, and it glittered with every subtle movement. Her arms were adorned with long, black lace gloves, the delicate fabric extending nearly to her shoulders, adding an extra layer of sensuality.

Her legs were encased in sheer black stockings, the tops of which were trimmed with delicate lace. They extended down to a pair of sky-high stiletto heels, patent leather and perfectly polished, each step a click that commanded attention. The ensemble was completed by a pair of high-waisted panties, their design both seductive and practical, with a discreet hook at the hip, designed for quick removal.

Every detail of her ensemble, from the luxurious fabric to the dazzling embellishments, had been designed to evoke both elegance and temptation, a perfect embodiment of the Crazy Horse legacy.

Lisa stood still for a moment, letting the audience absorb her presence. The spotlight cast a halo of brilliance around her as she slowly raised her chin, her eyes sweeping over the crowd with an unflinching gaze. Unfazed by the loud applause, she was entirely in control, her purpose clear. This was her stage, her moment, and she was there to deliver not just a performance, but an unforgettable experience.

The music shifted, its beat more rhythmic and flowing, as Lisa was joined by her six backup dancers, their silhouettes sharp against the dim lighting. With a flick of her wrist, she signaled the start of the routine, and the dancers fell into flawless formation, moving with precision and grace. The choreography was a perfect blend of contemporary and cabaret-inspired dance, with slow and controlled movements that captivated the audience with every step. Lisa led the group effortlessly, her elegance and poise commanding the stage as they performed intricate formations and synchronized spins. The dancers mirrored her movements flawlessly, their long black lace gloves shimmering under the stage lights, adding to the sensuality and sophistication of the performance. Every gesture was a moment of elegance, as the group executed their movements in unison, creating a visual harmony that left the audience in awe.

As the music faded for just a moment, the spotlight shifted solely to Lisa. The dancers, now positioned far away from her, stood frozen in place, allowing the focus to remain entirely on Lisa. With a sultry look in her eyes, she raised her hands to her face, and the audience held its breath in anticipation. Jennie, Jisoo, and Rosé were already clapping and cheering, along with the rest of the crowd, their excitement palpable as Lisa began to remove her gloves. Slowly, sensually, she used her teeth to grip the edge of one black lace glove, pulling it off with teasing slowness, every motion deliberate and captivating. As the first glove was discarded, the crowd reacted, cheers and whistles filling the air. Lisa then slid the second glove off with her now-gloveless hand, continuing the slow, seductive removal. The cheers grew louder, waves of admiration pouring from the audience, while Jennie, Jisoo, and Rosé clapped and hollered, their enthusiasm unmistakable. With the gloves finally gone, Lisa resumed her performance, the dancers returning to their positions as the music swelled again. The room buzzed with excitement, the air thick with the energy of her sensual display, as every eye remained locked on her. The sensual tension lingered, intensifying the connection between Lisa and the audience, their anticipation hanging in the air like a breath held too long.

As the music built to a crescendo, the dancers executed their final formation with a smooth, synchronized turn, pausing for a brief moment of stillness before striking their last pose. Lisa’s presence remained the focal point, her confident gaze sweeping over the crowd as she gracefully led the group in the final stretch of the routine. With the last beats echoing through the room, Lisa reached up and removed her black feathered mask in one fluid motion, revealing her striking features to the audience. The timing was flawless. Just as the performance ended and her mask came off, the crowd erupted into applause. The dancers took their bows alongside Lisa, the curtains began to close, and the stage was enveloped in darkness for several seconds, the energy hanging in the air as anticipation grew for what was to come next.

Suddenly, the lights flared back to life, bathing the room in a brilliant glow. In the center of the stage stood Lisa, her silhouette sharp against the illumination. She was alone now, the absence of her dancers creating an intoxicating tension in the air. With a slow, deliberate movement, she reached up, her fingers tracing the edge of her jacket before pulling it off, revealing the intricately laced black satin corset that hugged her figure with seductive precision. Designed to accentuate her curves without restricting movement, the corset fit snugly but wasn’t overly tight, allowing her to dance comfortably and effortlessly. The elegant design featured hidden hooks and eyes, blending seamlessly into the fabric to allow for easy and quick removal if desired. The lace detailing created a striking contrast to the powerful presence she commanded on stage.

As the spotlight shifted, Lisa turned her back to the audience, facing away from them as her hips swayed with each step. She walked toward the stripper pole, her movements fluid and deliberate, every motion dripping with confidence. The way her corset clung to her body made her ass stand out in a way that could only be described as captivating, each step she took amplifying the tantalizing effect of her outfit. With every stride, the tightness of the corset accentuated the curve of her waist, and the motion of her hips made her look even more enticing. As she reached the pole, she placed one hand around it, her fingers curling sensually around its cold metal surface. Slowly, teasingly, she began to circle the pole, her hips swaying rhythmically, a perfect blend of control and sensuality. The crowd was drawn to her every move, captivated by the tantalizing promise of what was to come.

The music swelled with a rhythmic pulse, and Lisa began her performance by leaning into the pole, her hand sliding slowly along its length. She started with simple, fluid movements, circling the pole with calculated grace. Her hips swayed hypnotically to the beat, each step purposeful and controlled, her stiletto heels clicking softly against the polished stage floor.

She teased the crowd with small spins, wrapping one long leg around the pole while her body pivoted effortlessly. Each spin was slow and deliberate, her hair cascading like silk as she tilted her head back, drawing in the audience’s fixed attention. She stayed close to the ground, emphasizing her sensuality without rushing into complex tricks just yet.

Lisa then transitioned to floorwork, kneeling gracefully, her hands gliding down the pole as she arched her back and rolled her hips. She rose back to her feet with a seamless elegance, her movements sultry yet restrained, leaving the crowd mesmerized by her confidence and presence. The first part of her routine was a masterclass in teasing; every gesture was a promise of something greater yet to come.

As the music built to a crescendo, Lisa moved into the more advanced phase of her performance. She climbed the pole with an effortless agility, her toned legs gripping tightly as she ascended, each movement exuding control and strength. Once near the top, she hooked a knee around the pole, arching her back and leaning backward into a breathtaking pose, her other leg extended gracefully. The crowd gasped as she spun slowly in this inverted position, her body like a sculpture of elegance and allure.

Sliding down the pole with practiced ease, Lisa stopped halfway, her body suspended with both legs wrapped firmly around the pole. She leaned her upper body forward, her hands lightly gripping the pole for balance, and then began a slow, mesmerizing undulation. With each thrust, she leaned in and out, her torso moving in a controlled, hypnotic rhythm. The movement was both sensual and powerful, a display of mastery that captivated the crowd. Her hips swayed slightly with each motion, her body undulating like a wave, perfectly synchronized with the music’s seductive beat.

Then, as if to take the crowd’s breath away, she let herself slide further down the pole, flipping upside-down with her legs spreading wide in a star-like formation. Her body perfectly aligned, the stage lights highlighted every curve, and the sheer athleticism of the move stunned the audience. With a slow, deliberate motion, she transitioned into a split hold, her legs extended horizontally while she gripped the pole with her thighs, spinning elegantly before lowering herself to the ground with unmatched finesse.

Lisa’s movements became increasingly daring and sensual as she danced. She intertwined graceful spins with moments where her body pressed teasingly against the pole, her expressions a mix of confidence and seduction. She ended the performance with a final dramatic move: climbing the pole one last time, spinning in a controlled descent until her feet touched the stage floor. With the last note of the music fading, Lisa stood tall, her piercing gaze scanning the audience as she struck a commanding pose, leaving them in awe of her beauty and skill.

A brief pause lingered, the air thick with anticipation as Lisa’s hands slid to the front of her corset. With a slow, deliberate motion, she unhooked the hidden fastenings, each movement tantalizingly precise. The structured garment loosened, and with a graceful shrug of her shoulders, she let it slide down her torso, revealing the delicate, shimmering tassel nipple pasties that now adorned her bare chest. The crowd erupted, the combination of admiration and exhilaration palpable as Lisa discarded the corset to the side, standing in nothing but her sheer black stockings, lace-trimmed high-waisted panties, and sky-high patent leather stiletto heels.

Freed from the constraints of the corset, Lisa's movements became even more fluid, her body effortlessly melting into the next phase of the performance. She dropped gracefully to the floor, her legs extending in sharp, mesmerizing motions that captivated every set of eyes in the room. A smooth transition led her into a seamless split, her thighs parting with ease as she faced the audience, arching her back just enough to emphasize every curve of her body. Her hands grazed the floor, her fingers tracing invisible patterns as she shifted, rolling onto her stomach with an effortless glide.

Now, with her back to the audience, Lisa lifted herself just enough to tilt her hips, offering them a perfect view of the sculpted curves that moved in perfect sync with the music. Her long legs sliced through the air as she pushed herself into another split, this time facing away, her ass arching as she lingered for a moment before sweeping her legs together and rolling into a sensuous backbend. Every motion was executed with the kind of precision and confidence that only Lisa could embody—controlled, deliberate, and undeniably hypnotic, given how little she was wearing.

She wasn’t in a hurry. Every motion was slow and deliberate, dripping with purpose. Each flick of her ankle, each flex of her thigh designed to send the crowd into a frenzy. As she lifted herself back onto her knees, one hand dragging slowly up her body, her gaze flickered up, locking onto the audience with a knowing smirk.

As her hand slid slowly up her body, her fingertips brushing against her skin with deliberate slowness, the anticipation in the room reached a fever pitch. Lisa’s eyes never left the crowd, her smirk widening just slightly as she felt the heat of their gaze. She was in control, and she knew it.

With a subtle shift, she pulled at the edges of her tassel nipple pasties, the delicate strands of ribbon catching the light as she gave it a teasing tug. The fabrics barely moved at first, but then with a fluid motion, she yanked them free, tossing them aside like a prize. The crowd gasped, the shockwave of her boldness vibrating through the room.

For just a moment, a heavy silence hung in the air, deafening and almost unreal. Then the cheers came, loud and wild, an uproar of adoration and disbelief. Lisa, with her breasts now fully exposed, only smirked wider, reveling in the power of the moment. She was unapologetically herself, and nothing could take away her command of the stage.

Naked from the waist up, Lisa stood there with her tits out for a brief moment, drinking in the crowd’s feverish energy as their cheers swelled. She could feel their eyes locked onto her, their collective desire turning her body into a living canvas for their hungry gazes.

Her hands moved like a symphony of seduction, tracing the curves of her body with the kind of smooth grace that made every inch of her skin seem like an invitation. She swept her fingers across her collarbone, teasingly brushing over her chest before sliding them down the smoothness of her stomach. Each movement was purposeful, calculated to draw out the tension, to make them beg for more without her ever saying a word.

As her hands glided over her body, she locked eyes with the audience, her smirk returning, full of knowing. She was in complete control, making sure they couldn’t look away. Her hips swayed, each motion measured and deliberate, designed to keep the attention on every inch of her. She pulled her hands up, sliding them over her breasts and her nipples in a slow, almost painful motion, before letting them drift lower, brushing the edge of her waist. She lingered there for a moment, letting the heat of the moment build, before allowing her hands to slide down to her thighs, pushing the boundaries of seduction further.

The crowd was buzzing with anticipation, but Lisa remained composed, her smirk never faltering as she turned away from them, giving them the perfect view of her sculpted back. She slowly backed up, moving towards the edge of the stage with the precision of a dancer who knew the power of every step and every motion. As she moved closer to the audience, the room seemed to hold its breath.

With a subtle shift in her posture, she reached down with one hand, her fingers delicately finding the hook on the side of her panties. The fabric was tight against her skin, the delicate lace trimming hugging her curves as her fingers toyed with the hook. The crowd watched in silence, their eyes fixated on the moment.

Lisa gave them one last look over her shoulder, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of her lips, before she unhooked the panties with a slow, deliberate motion. The fabric began to loosen, teasingly falling down her legs as she bent forward, her body lowering into a perfect 90-degree angle. Her ass arched out towards the crowd, her movements fluid and controlled as the panties slowly slid down her legs, eventually falling at her feet as she exposed her glorious cunt for everyone to see.

The room erupted with cheers and applause, the crowd now in a frenzy of excitement. Lisa lifted her foot, kicking the panties aside as she stood back up, the cool air hitting her bare skin. She was now fully nude, save for the pair of stiletto heels and her sheer stockings that hugged her toned legs, the lace trim framing her shapely ass perfectly.

With the final seconds of her performance approaching, Lisa decided to go all the way. With her body still bent over, she stuck a hand between her legs and put two fingers on her pussy, using them to spread her labia open, giving the audience a clear view of her pink, glistening cunt. The crowd went crazy for Lisa's actions, no more than her three best friends in the front row. As if it couldn't get any better or hotter, Lisa then turned around and raised her hand to her mouth, sucking on her own fingers, her tongue swirling around them as she tasted her own arousal. The crowd was deafening by this point, cheering and whistling, their lust evident. It was clear that she had taken things to the next level, and they loved every second of it.

As the last few notes of the final song came to an end, Lisa took a deep bow to thank the crowd, then stood back up with a radiant smile, her naked body still on full display for the guests to see. The entire audience rose to their feet, erupting into applause for Lisa’s monumental performance. They chanted her name for several seconds, and Lisa continued thanking them, waving with gratitude until the lights dimmed and she made her exit.

Backstage, she was met by her manager, who immediately handed her a robe to cover her body. She thanked the staff members who congratulated her on a legendary performance at the Crazy Horse show. Just as she was about to step into her dressing room, her bandmates' excited voices rang out from a distance, calling her name as they rushed over to congratulate her on her number.

"Oh my god, Lisa. That was amazing!" Jisoo exclaimed, a wide smile stretching across her face.

"I can't believe you did that. You could’ve told your best friend you were gonna do that tonight." Rosé added, still stunned by Lisa's performance.

"Sorry...I didn’t want to spoil you, girls. I wanted to see the shock on your faces."

"It was so hot. I'm so wet right now. I even rubbed one out in the front row, not gonna lie." Jennie said, her cheeks flushed red, her voice dripping with lust.

"Damn, did I turn you on that much? Did I make you that horny?"

"Girl...I’m always horny."

"Yeah...horny for cocks." Lisa joked.

"Speaking of that...should we hit the club?" Rosé suggested.

"Of course. I wanna play cock roulette." Jennie added, referring to their favorite club game.

"Yeah, absolutely. I’m dying to get dicked right now. Let's have some drinks and some fun. Just let me get dressed. You guys wait in the car." Lisa said, saying goodbye to her friends before stepping into her dressing room.

Inside, she sat down for five minutes, just trying to take it all in, what had just gone down on stage. Phones weren’t allowed, so she shouldn’t have to worry about anything leaking online. She trusted everyone in attendance to keep quiet, to not run to the media.

And yet, that nagging thought crept in...what if?

What if someone had managed to sneak in a phone? What if a guest decided to open his mouth and tell the whole world what had happened during Lisa’s performance? The fact that she showed her entire body to everyone in attendance...her tits, her ass and her pussy out in full display for the lucky few deemed worthy enough to attend the Crazy Horse show that night.

If it ever came out, she’d have to deal with the fallout—the headlines, the public scrutiny, the endless speculation about why she had done it. There would be backlash, judgment, and maybe even consequences she couldn’t yet predict. But right now, she didn’t have time to dwell on that. Her friends were waiting for her, eager to hit the club, and she wasn’t about to waste the rest of the night worrying about something that might never happen. Tonight was about celebrating and letting loose.

Lisa made her way toward the vanity table, grabbing the champagne bottle. Tilting it over her glass, she sighed when nothing came out. Still wrapped in her robe, she cracked open the door, calling for a staff member.

"Excuse me. I’m out of champagne. Could you bring me a bottle, please?"

"Of course, madame. One moment." The young staff member hurried off.

He was a tall, young, white man with short curly brown hair, barely looking 20, his nervous energy palpable as Lisa asked for his help.

A few minutes later, he returned, knocking on her door. Lisa opened it, stepping aside to let him in. The young man stepped inside hesitantly, clutching the cold champagne bottle in his hands. His movements were careful, almost too precise, as he made his way toward Lisa’s vanity table. Placing the bottle down, he twisted the foil, peeled it away, and expertly popped the cork with a soft pop, the faintest hint of bubbles fizzing to the surface as he poured the golden liquid into her glass.

Lisa leaned against the table, watching him with amusement as he filled it nearly to the brim. She smirked, lifting the glass to her lips for a small sip before looking at him.

"Thank you." She said smoothly, letting her eyes linger on his face.

"You’re welcome, ma’am." He replied, keeping his gaze respectfully averted.

"No need to be so formal. You can call me Lisa." She said, letting out a soft chuckle.

The young garçon shifted on his feet, a nervous gulp escaping him as he tightened his grip on the bottle.

"Awwww...are you getting shy?" She teased, tilting her head as her smirk grew wider.

"Come on, tell me...did you watch the show?"

"Yes, I did." He said, hesitating for a few seconds before replying to the Blackpink's main dancer.

"And? Did you enjoy it?"

"Y...yes...it was incredible." He admitted, clearly struggling to keep his composure around the Thai superstar.

Lisa stepped closer to him, her robe parting ever so slightly as she moved.

"Tell me...what was your favorite part?" She asked, her voice dripping with playful curiosity as she reached up, adjusting the knot of his bow tie with delicate fingers. She took her time, straightening it with slow, deliberate movements before smoothing out the fabric. Her touch lingered as she gave his chest a light pat, then let her palm rest against him, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath beneath her fingertips.

"I, uh...I don’t know if I should say..."

Lisa let out a soft, sultry laugh, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. The young man cleared his throat, stepping backward towards the door.

"I should go..." He said quickly, reaching for the handle, but before he could twist it open, Lisa’s voice stopped him.

"Leaving so soon? I was thinking we could have some fun together." Lisa said, taking another step forward, her robe slipping slightly off one shoulder.

"You know, performing on that stage got me so wet...I could really use your help right now, boy." Lisa said, as she pinned the guy to the door before she put her hand on his crotch, feeling his already hardening cock.

"Ohhh...seems like someone is having some fun already. Are you getting horny, boy? Do you like the sound of my voice? Does it turn you on?" Lisa whispered into his ear, her breath hot against his neck as she continued stroking his cock through his pants.

"I...yes." He moaned, unable to hide the effect Lisa had on him.

"I'm so fucking horny right now. Are you going to be a good little boy and do what I tell you to do?"

"Y...yes, Lisa."

"Good boy." She said, taking a step back and letting the robe slide down her body, exposing her naked, sweaty body.

The garçon stared at her nude body, his eyes wide as his gaze traveled down the length of her torso, lingering on her smooth, toned stomach. She looked like a goddess, her skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, her chest rising and falling with each breath. He couldn't help but admire her perfectly shaped breasts, the way they bounced slightly with every movement.

Lisa slowly turned around, giving him a perfect view of her ass and pussy. She was shaved completely bare, her lips slightly parted, her pink slit glistening with her arousal. Lisa looked back over her shoulder, her expression playful, almost teasing.

"Come on, boy. I don't have all day. Get down on your knees and eat me."

The guy complied immediately, dropping to his knees and pressing his face against her ass, his tongue flicking out to lick her juices. He grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he lapped at her folds with slow and deliberate movements, savoring every drop of her arousal.

"That's it. Keep licking."

"I love having young studs between my legs, eating me out." She said, putting her arm behind her back and grabbing the back of his head, pushing his face deeper into her ass and pussy.

The garçon groaned, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants as he continued lapping at her folds. Lisa's eyes rolled back, a low moan escaping her lips as he slid his tongue into her opening, his nose pressing against her clit. Her thighs trembled, the sensation of his warm tongue inside her sending waves of pleasure through her body. She could feel his hot breath against her skin, the vibrations of his moans echoing against her core.

"You like how my pussy tastes, boy?"

"Mmmm...yes, Lisa. You taste so fucking good."

"I bet this is the best day of your life, isn't it? Seeing me naked...eating me...about to fuck the living shit out of me..."

"You know...I've been wanting a nice cock inside my pussy all night long." Lisa said, as the guy continued to lick and lap at her pussy, his tongue darting in and out of her slick opening. Lisa's grip tightened, her fingers tangled in his hair, as he began to suck and slurp at her wetness, the sounds echoing throughout the room. She couldn't take it anymore. She needed him inside her.

"Fuck, I need a cock. I need your cock inside me right now!!!" She moaned, reaching back and pulled his face deeper into her pussy, grinding her hips against him.

"Get your cock out and fuck me, please." She begged, her voice filled with desperation as she pulled him away from her pussy, before turning around and sinking to her knees.

The garçon nodded, his hands trembling as he unzipped his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers. His throbbing erection sprang free, hitting Lisa right in the face.

Lisa looked up at him, her lips curved in a sexy smile as she took his cock in her hands, stroking him with slow, steady motions.

"Mmmm...such a big, fat cock, I'm surprised. I can't wait to have it inside me."

The Thai starlet spat on it and kept jerking it for several seconds, making sure his cock was nice and ready for her. As Lisa was giving him a very quick but sloppy handjob, he used this opportunity to take off the rest of his clothes, and once he was done, she stood up, turned around, and made her way towards her table, putting her right leg on top of it and presenting her pussy to him.

"C'mon, French guy. What are you waiting for? I don't have all night."

He immediately walked towards her, his cock achingly hard and pointing upwards, the tip glistening with precum. He placed his hands on her hips, pulling her close, his shaft pressing against her folds. She arched her back, her ass sticking out, inviting him to thrust his dick deep inside her.

"Do your worst. Fuck me as hard as you can and ruin me!"

Without wasting another second, he slid into her, his thickness stretching Lisa's inner walls, filling her completely. She let out a loud moan, her eyes rolling back as he started to thrust in and out of her, his movements fast and frantic.

"Fuck...yes...that's it...fuck me harder!" She screamed, her voice dripping with lust as she slightly pushed her ass back against him, meeting his thrusts with equal force.

The garçon groaned, his balls slapping against her ass with each stroke, his grip on her hips tightening. He fucked her like an animal, his cock pounding her pussy relentlessly, the sounds of their flesh slapping against each other filling the air.

"Yeah...you like that? You like how my pussy feels around your big fat cock?"

"Fuckkk yes, I love it! Your pussy feels amazing, Lisa!" He growled, his voice filled with pure desire as he continued to ram his cock deep into her.

Lisa looked at herself in the mirror, watching her reflection as the guy rammed his cock into her from behind, his eyes glued to her ass. Her tits bounced with every stroke, her hair sticking to her sweat-soaked body. She loved the feeling of being fucked from behind, especially by a big, fat cock like the one currently pumping in and out of her pussy.

As for him, his lust for Lisa grew with every thrust, and the longer he kept fucking her, the greedier he got.

"Can I...can I fuck your ass?"

"Fuck...I don't have much time...tell you what...make me cum and I will let you fuck my ass, deal?"

He nodded, a grin stretching across his face. In pure desperation of wanting to make the Blackpink slut cum so that he could have a go at her ass, he started pumping his hips like crazy, slamming his cock in and out of her cunt, making Lisa moan like a bitch in heat in the process. The French stud was fucking her so fast, that it was hard for Lisa to keep her leg still on the table, and it was making her involuntary kick small items that were on top of the table towards the floor every time he went for a deeper thrust.

She tried to grab onto something for dear life, putting her hands on the vanity table, but that also resulted in her knocking down items off of the table, including the champagne bottle. It broke as it fell to the floor, its contents spilling everywhere, the sound echoing through the room.

"Fuuuuccckkkk...your cock is filling me up so gooood..."

"Oh...shit...sorry." He said, apologizing for making Lisa break the champagne bottle.

"Don't apologize, boy. Shut the fuck up and keep fucking me. I'm about to cum." Lisa demanded, as she reached her arm out, her fingers curling around the edge of the mirror.

Lisa was getting close. Her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth hanging open, her breaths coming in short gasps. She could feel her orgasm building, her body trembling as his cock hit all the right spots.

"Talk dirty to me. It turns me on so much!"

"Are you sure, Lisa?"

"Yes!!! Degrade me!"

Degrading women wasn't really his thing, but he was never one to refuse an order, especially not from the one and only Lisa Manoban.

"I watched the show from backstage...you know what I really thought?"

"Noooooo, please tell me, fuckkkk..." She moaned, every thrust bringing her closer to the edge.

"I thought you were a fucking slut, showing off your tits, ass and pussy to everyone. Such a dirty fucking slut."

"That's me!!!...I'm a dirty, shameless, filthy fucking slut." Lisa repeated, her voice quivering.

"All I wanted to do whilst watching you was run upon that stage and start fucking you in front of every guest."

"Why didn't you do that then? Fuckkkk. You have no idea how badly I wanted to have sex on that stage. To get fucked like a cumslut in front of everyone."

"You are lucky that there were no cameras, Lisa. We should've livestreamed the whole event, so that the whole world would find out just how much of a slut you really are!"

The more he kept degrading her whilst fucking her, the more turned on Lisa got, her arousal soaking her thighs, coating her pussy and his balls. Lisa couldn't help herself and started rubbing her clit as his pace increased. His strokes grew harder and faster each time his cock drilled Lisa's tight, wet pussy.

"Don't stop! Please...keep fucking me, boy! I want your cum inside me." She begged, her pussy squeezing his shaft, her body begging for release. The Frenchman fondled her right tit with his hand, as he fucked her mercilessly, the sounds of their bodies slapping against each other filling the room.

He wanted to have a go at her ass, but with Lisa's shameless self-degrading comments, he was unable to resist any longer, and neither could Lisa, as their orgasms fell upon them pretty much in unison.

"Fuck...here it comes!"

"Yes, give it to me. Fill me up with your hot, creamy load."

With one final hard thrust, he buried his cock deep inside her, his hips bucking wildly and his body spasming as he shot his load, coating her inner walls with his seed. Lisa's body tensed up, her pussy clenching around his cock, milking every drop of his cum, her eyes rolling back, a low drawn-out moan escaping her lips as she came.

She rested her forehead against the table, panting, trying to catch her breath, her heart racing. She could feel his hot, sticky cum trickling down her thighs, his cock still buried inside her as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Wow...that was amazing." He said.

"Yeah? Did you enjoy having your way with an idol?

"Absolutely."

"Great. Lets get this cock nice and clean before it goes inside my ass."

Lisa swiftly dropped to her knees and grabbed his cum-covered cock. She used her tongue to lick his cock clean, swallowing the mixture of her juices and his cum.

"That's a good girl. Get my cock nice and hard so that I can destroy that ass." He said, looking down at the beautiful Blackpink slut licking his cock clean, his shaft already beginning to grow again.

Lisa couldn't help but giggle. She was proud of her work on him in such a short amount of time. Ten minutes ago, he was nothing more than a shy, young Frenchman. Now, he had all the confidence in the world, all thanks to Lisa's self-degrading remarks.

"Your cock tastes so good in my mouth." She said, opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue before slapping herself with his hard shaft.

By this point, his cock was more than ready for her asshole, but Lisa just simply couldn't take her mouth from it. She kept her lips around his length and rapidly slurped on his dick like there was no tomorrow. Lisa bobbed her head up and down, sucking him off like a complete whore.

"Holy shit...you are so good at this." He said, placing his hand on the back of her head, pushing her head further down on his length.

"Yeah, you think so? I love sucking dick so much. Especially fat ones like yours."

"You are so fucking slutty."

"I know. Now, I want you to fuck my face." She demanded, looking up at him with lust-filled eyes, her hands firmly holding the base of his cock.

He obliged, grabbing the back of her head and thrusting his cock deep into her mouth. Lisa gagged slightly, her saliva pooling around his shaft as she took him deeper and deeper, the tip of his dick hitting the back of her throat. She looked so fucking sexy, naked on her knees, her lips stretched around his shaft with her mouth filled with cock.

"Fuckkkkkk...this is incredible. I can't believe you are letting me do this to you." He moaned, his cock pulsating in her mouth as she sucked him harder.

Lisa continued to blow him eagerly, her lips gliding over his thick length, tongue swirling as she kept slobbering all over his thick shaft. Sloppy, desperate sounds filled the room as she took him deep, hands stroking in rhythm with every bob of her head. The garçon could hardly believe his luck.

She loved feeling his hard cock move past her lips and hit the back of her throat, her jaw aching as he thrust deeper into her mouth. Saliva kept dribbling down her chin as he continued to fuck her face, his balls slapping against her chin with every thrust.

"Take that dick all the way down. Your throat feels so fucking good around my cock."

Lisa knew she could make him stop with just a snap of her fingers. She was in control, but she was beyond horny, and she loved giving up her power, allowing others to use her however they pleased, and this situation was no different.

The garçon was enjoying every second of his time with Lisa and her warm throat, but also knew if he kept this up, he was going to end up blowing his load without being able to have a go at her ass, so, after a couple more thrusts he pulled his cock out of her mouth, Lisa's spit still connecting his dick and her mouth together.

"Are you going to put that fat cock in my ass now, boy?"

"Absolutely." He said, grabbing a chair that was nearby and placing it in front of the vanity table, giving her something to hold on to once he started fucking her.

Lisa smirked as she got up and bent over, putting her hands on each side of the chair. She looked over her shoulder to see the Frenchman standing behind her, his cock glistening with her saliva, throbbing and ready to penetrate her.

"Go on, give me what I want. Give me that fat dick." She said, licking her lips, her ass sticking out, inviting him in.

He moved closer, placing the tip of his cock at the entrance of her asshole, teasing her slightly. Lisa let out a soft whimper, her body trembling with anticipation.

"Please, just do it. I need your cock in my ass." She begged.

He didn't waste much more time and pushed himself inside, the tight ring of muscle stretching to accommodate his size. Lisa bit her lower lip, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the chair tighter. The feeling of his cock filling her ass was almost too much for her.

"Hmmm, fuck...you have no idea how much I love having big dicks in my ass."

"Fuck me. Don't hold back, boy."

Lisa's moans were music to his ears, and it only encouraged him to give her even more of his cock. The guy began pounding her tight ass, firmly holding her hips as he buried his length deep inside her. Lisa gasped, her eyes rolling back as she felt his dick fill her, stretching her wide open.

"Yes! That's it, keep fucking my ass. Fuckkkk...I love how your cock feels inside me."

"Holy shit, your ass feels so good around my dick. You like having your ass destroyed?"

"Fuck yes! Keep fucking my slutty little asshole."

Sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the air as he continued to fuck her, his balls swinging wildly with each thrust. Lisa arched her back and began pushing her ass against him, meeting his thrusts to take his big cock deeper. She was in absolute bliss, the feeling of his thick cock pounding her ass was indescribable. Lisa could feel his warm breath against her skin as the young stud leaned down to kiss her neck, his hands sliding up her body, cupping her tits.

"Keep going, don't stop. I want it harder, please fuck me harder..." She pleaded, her body trembling with pleasure, the sensation of his cock inside her making her feel like she was in heaven.

"Such a good little slut for my cock, aren't you? I bet you didn't even want to perform tonight. You just wanted everyone to see you naked, didn't you?"

"Yes...I love being fucked like a slut and be degraded like a common whore."

Lisa's comments made him groan, and he began slamming his hips into her ass with much more force than before, the sound echoing through the room. Lisa's entire body rocked back and forth, her tits swaying with each thrust as she held onto the chair for dear life.

"Use me like a fuckdoll and give me your cum." She said, reaching her clit with her hand before she began rubbing it as he continued to pound her.

The garçon's thrusts became more erratic, his breathing becoming heavier as he fucked her harder, his balls slapping against her clit. Lisa moaned louder, her voice dripping with pure lust as she kept rubbing her clit, bringing herself closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuckkkkkk...I'm going to cum, boy."

"Cum for me. Cum while I fuck your asshole, Lisa." He demanded, his cock pounding her ass relentlessly as he grabbed her hair and pulled it. Lisa's mouth hanged open as she came, her pussy spasming, coating his balls with her juices. Her body shook violently and her vision became blurry as her orgasm washed over her, with her ass clenching around his cock.

"Lisa, I'm gonna cum too. Where do you want it?"

"Mouth...I want you to dump that load inside my throat." She quickly said, pulling herself off his cock and turning around before she squatted.

The Thai slut didn't waste a single second and began rapidly jerking his cock with both of her hands in a corkscrew motion with the tip past her lips. Her tongue swirled around the head, constantly flickering his piss slit as her hands stroked his cock, occasionally moving down to cup his balls and massage them gently.

It didn't take long before the guy let out a loud groan and Lisa felt his cock begging to throb in her hands and her mouth, and not a moment later, his seed started erupting inside her mouth. Lisa felt multiple ropes hitting the back of her throat, but instead of swallowing it, she tried to hold as much cum as she could in her mouth.

Thankfully for her, it was his second load, so the amount of cum he deposited inside Blackpink's superstar was nowhere near the amount he had dumped inside Lisa's pussy a few minutes ago, but that still didn't stop her mouth from being full and for a small amount of cum to spill from the corners of her mouth.

Once she felt like he was done, Lisa slowly slid his cock out of her mouth and opened it, showing him the load he had given her.

"Fucking slut. Swallow my load like the good little cumdumpster that you are."

Lisa obliged, swallowing every single drop of his thick cum in one go, her throat convulsing as she gulped him down. It was a lot for her to handle, but she managed to take it all in, and she savored the taste, swallowing his cum until her mouth was empty.

"So much cum for me, I love it." Lisa said, before putting her lips back on his big cock to milk him dry out of every last drop.

She slowly bobbed her head up and down on his leaking shaft before releasing it with a pop and licking her lips clean, a smile on her face.

"That was amazing. Thank you so much for your cock and your cum. Now go. Leave my dressing room, I got places to be."

"Yes, Lisa." He said, picking up his clothes and quickly putting them back on before leaving her dressing room.

As for Lisa, she stayed naked on her knees, looking at her reflection in the mirror, admiring her naked body. After a while, she got up and picked up a towel, to clean herself from all the sweat and cum. Once she was done, she put on clean underwear and a nice dress, before heading out and making her way towards the car, where her bandmates were waiting.

"Lisa, what the fuck took you so long?" Jennie said, clearly annoyed.

"Yeah girl, it's been almost 30 minutes..." Rosé added.

"Sorry, girls. I had to take some time to relax."

"Relax? You look more exhausted than before." Jisoo pointed out.

"Just...just drive already."

"Yeah, lets get out of here. Lets go to the club!!!!!" Rosé shouted.

"Can't wait to get fucked so hard." Jennie said.

"That is, if you win cock roulette." Jisoo said.

"Girl, I always win cock roulette. Tonight will be no different."

"Don't start celebrating just yet, Jennie. If anyone is winning that tonight, it's me. I'm so horny right now, that I'm ready to go all the way." Rosé said, as she placed her hand on her crotch and began rubbing herself through her panties.

"We'll see about that." Jennie responded as the girls drove away and made their way to the club, to what would undoubtedly be another unforgettable night for the four Blackpink sluts.

#lisa smut #blackpink smut #lisa manoban #blackpink #blackpink lisa #kpop #kpop smut

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sugawarassoulmate · 5 months ago

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i love the idea of terushima hooking up with a girl that turns out to be a homie hopper LOL

the two of you had been hooking up casually for a few weeks until he lets you know that he's not looking for anything serious

"i just don't want to be tied down or anything," he said, expecting to see your smile falter like so many other girls before you

but you shock him

"oh, i totally understand. it's no problem!"

he's confused but thinks you're probably better at hiding your emotions

the two of you see each other in passing on campus and you remain cordial as ever

as if you two never had that conversation

a few days later he's in the locker room changing out of his sweaty clothes after practice when he hears hollering on the other side of the room

his teammates are crowded around futamata, who's sporting bruises on his chest and neck

he looks a little embarrassed as the other guys congratulate him on getting laid

terushima immediately joins in, asking who "the lucky lady is"

but futamata looks nervous to tell him

when everyone goes their separate ways at the end of the night, futamata takes terushima aside and tells him that the two of you hooked up the night before

and it's like the wires got crossed in terushima's brain

you're not together, you're barely even acquaintances

but he's????? annoyed???? frustrated???? that you slept with one of his best friends?????

when terushima sees you the next day, he doesn't waste a second with any pleasantries

"are you messing with me?" he asks with no warning.

"hello to you too, yuji," you say, confused by the agitation in his voice. before you could even finish your sentence, terushima opens his mouth again.

"why did you hook up with futamata?"

you quirk your brow, wondering where this behavior came from. "why is that any of your business?"

"you hook up with me and sleep with my best friend a week later? that's fucked up." he's red in the face now, arms crossed.

"didn't you say that you didn't want to be 'tied down?'" you said, throwing his words back at him.

you explained that you met futamata at a party and immediately hit it off. it wasn't until after the deed was done that he mentioned he was on the volleyball team and you put two and two together.

but terushima still isn't having it, even with all the girls he's had before, never has any one of them hooked up with his friends.

"i wasn't looking for a relationship, but you didn't have to do that," he said, still not getting it.

"did you think you hurt my feelings?" you snort. why terushima was coming at you with such anger suddenly made sense. his poor ego got hurt.

"i'm not looking for for a relationship either, dude. i just like sex," you admist. "and i'm pretty good at it."

the look on terushima's face tells you he wasn't expecting that answer.

"if you just wanna fuck again let me know," you shrug, not willing to entertain this interrogation any longer. you turn on your heel, leaving terushima dumbfounded and also a bit horny.

#haikyuu smut #haikyu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #terushima smut #terushima x reader #yuji terushima #terushima yuji #🥀terushima #haikyuu headcanons

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muzansfangs · 5 months ago

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Placebo.

Starring: Ryuken Ishida x f!reader; mention to child Uryu Ishida and Kanae Katagiri;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, vaginal fingering, language, age gap (reader is in her early twenties), unhealthy coping mechanism, widowhood, vaginal sex, sorrow, angst, struggling with feelings, rough sex;

Plot: His work did not leave him much time to look after his young son. The loss of his wife had been a disgrace. When his colleague handed him the number of his neighbour who happened to work as a babysitter to pay her studies, Ryuken decided to give it a try. He would have never imagined you were going to revive the domestic life he used to have with his late wife. When he looked at you, he felt less lonely. Touching you was a placebo to drown his sorrow.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The opulence of the splendid and austere manor you had to work in for the foreseeable future sent chills down your spine, an unfamiliar sense of uneasiness settling deep in your bones with each step you took to reach the living room. Even the illuminated rooms of the house radiated the disheartening sense of melancholy blanketing the entire building. You had been told by your neighbour about the sudden and tragic death of Mr. Ishida’s wife. Understandably, the loss had caused the man to become even more algid than he used to be, or this was what his colleague had told you about your new employer.

When Mr. Ishida had contacted you, his deep voice was deprived of any kind of hope and warmth. The inclination was professional, yet detatched from any emotion possibly permeating a voice. He had told you he had a son to be looked after and that he had been given your number by his colleague. It was overall a small talk in which he added that, if you wanted to accept the job, you could start on Monday after a brief talk to describe the outlines of your contract. Naturally, there you were now.

The maid had guided you silently to a large couch, giving you a courtly bow, before heading out to call for Mr. Ishida. The minutes you spent alone, waiting for his arrival, made you wonder if you could ever be enough to cheer up a child who had lost his mother and be useful to a man whose heart was long forgotten beneath a sheet of impenetrable ice. Your inner monologue was interrupted by the appearence of a kid, peeking at you curiously from the threshold. His blue eyes inspected you, his small finger reaching up to fix his glasses, still too big for him, over the bridge of his pointy nose. You blinked, a small smile gracing your lips as you waved your hand at the boy. Mr. Ishida’s son blushed, back straightening as he dashed away before you could even introduce yourself.

You wondered if your approach was too brazen, if you were the cause of his getaway, but you soon realized he had probably recognized the steady footsteps of his father in the corridor. The hair on your neck stood, when the man walked in. Hardened gaze, he acknowledged your presence briefly, eyes flitting in the direction where his son had ran off in a hurry. He looked at his maid, murmuring a command you failed to catch, but that she did not waste any time in getting to.

Your mouth felt like chalk, heart weirdly pumping the blood faster, almost leaving you breathless, when the man walked up to you to introduce himself properly. You stood up, hands meeting midway to shake in a cordiality due in formal business encounters. You held his gaze, timidly bowing your head.

“Good evening, Mr. Ishida, I’m—” you tried, but his baritone timbre cut you off.

“I know who you are. You are indeed as young as I expected. — he commented dryly, letting go of your hand to go sitting in the armchair before the couch — You may sit. I have asked my maid to prepare some tea and fetch my son” he added, watching you sit back on your seat, hands splayed at your sides, as you imperceptibly nodded your head.

He was direct. You felt almost out of place, unsure of how to behave, what to say, of your own skills in tending children. What if the inflexible man squarely looking at you did not approve of your methods? Your stomach churned in apprehension at the mere thought of disappointing him, getting fired and be the cause of his foul mood. However, you had to still know him and grow familiar with the family habits to plan an accurate adaptation to the situation.

“Thanks, sir. — you finally mustered a reply — I am glad you have decided to give me a chance to help. Currently, I do not have other children to look after. I can stay here overnight as well, if it is necessary” you informed him, expecting him to esternate at least a grateful expression for your offer and dedication to the job you had just accepted. Too bad you figured he actually expected you to go to such lengths for him.

“Obviously” he shortly said, not even dignifying you with a glance, greyish eyes darting on the entrance as soon as his timid son and the maid joined you two.

You looked at the raven-haired boy, avoiding the stern gaze his father was directing to him. He hesitantly approached you two, standing next to the maid in search for protection, for a shield to defend himself from the piercing gaze of the doctor, of the only parent he could count on for the rest of his life. Your stomach churned, the atmosphere thick, the obnoxious silence in the sterile room broken only by the sound of the silver tray settled on the glass coffee table at your feet.

“Uryu. — Mr. Ishida dryly commenced, arms comfortably laying on the armrests of the leather chesterfield sofa — Do you mind telling me why you ran away earlier? There is a guest here, as you can see”.

Ouch. You involuntarily flinched, the maid compassionately glancing at the boy as she poured the tea for the three of you, careful not to let a single drop spill out. You wondered if you were going to grow accostumate to such deplorable scenes just like her.

Uryu stiffened, hands clutching the gown of the maid “I didn’t run away from her”.

You partially relaxed, connecting the dots and realizing your assumption was indeed correct. The boy was not reluctant to talk to you, but he was instead attempting to avoid his strict father.

“We will discuss about it later. — the man dispassionately asserted, hand gesturing for him to sit beside you — This is Miss. L/N. She is going to work here as your attendant. I expect you to properly behave yourself. If I hear a single complain about you—”.

You had no idea what had gotten into you. The flabbergasted looks you got from the kid and the maid were enough to make you realize you had crossed a line. Your empathy, though, could not allow to let that innocent kid to withstand such a treatment. You had acted without thinking, risking your own job before even starting it.

“I am confident I won’t make a complaint about him” you interjected, cold swear running down your back as you wrapped your hands around the warm cup offered to you by the shellshocked maid. You were ready to endure the same treatment Uryu had been subjected to a moment before, but you were even more shocked to watch the man standing up slowly and announcing your shift had just begun.

“You can stay for dinner. I have to go to the hospital”.

Uryu, agape, stared at you in admiration. When his father’s footsteps faded away, he smiled at you for the first time “Thanks” he piped out, ignoring the fact you were probably going to pay for your bravado with a headache later on.

Days went by mostly uneventful for the first few weeks. As you had imagined, Dr. Ishida mainly contacted you via emails, texts, or phone calls. You barely crossed paths with him, when he left for work. However, he paid you regularly and let you inhabit his house, have access to his library for your studies and even use the spare car to drive Uryu to birthday parties, or to the park. You were glad he seemed not to have remonstrances about your work. You had to admit that taking care of Uryu was an easy task. He was polite, committed to his studies and overly respectful of you.

Sometimes, he even sat on your lap, asking you to read him your textbooks out loud. While he could not wrap his head around most of the complex concepts you were dutifully explaining to him, he listened and, surprisingly, made sharp observations on them.

Some days were harder than others.

You were playing hide and seek and you could not find him anywhere. He had not escaped in the gardens and you had searched for him throughout the first floor. There was only an area you still had to explore. You never ventured around Dr. Ishida’s private chambers. First of all, you had no interest in frequenting those rooms. Secondly, while he had not explicitly told you not to meddle in his business, you were pretty sure he would have not appreciated your initiative to go through his personal belongings.

Uncertain, you put your insecurities aside and decided to investigate the zone. You were not shocked to spot the small kid, curled up in a ball, holding a photograph in his hand. Your stomach churned, deciding to give him a few minutes to himself to collect the pieces of his own heart. You knew you had to go to confront him, though. He probably had hidden in there since you turned around to count. You could not risk getting caught in that room by his father. Clearing your throat, you encouraged yourself and stepped in the office, careful not to make a sound.

“There you are! You got me worried this time around” you said, causing the boy to gasp and shove the picture behind his back, protectively.

You kept your distance at first, smiling gently “What are you looking at? Is it a precious thing?” you asked him softly.

Uryu pressed his lips together, pondering his answer before silently nodding his head.

“It’s okay, if you don’t want to share it with me. — you said tenderly, approaching him and pointing at the clock on the wall — But it’s time to dine. Your father will be joining us tonight” you reminded him, as Uryu looked up at you with glistening eyes. A meltdown was coming. Your heart skipped a beat, as you knelt down next to him and ruffled his hair affectionately.

He was too young for this.

“I miss my mom” Uryu mumbled lowly, shaking hand holding the picture he was staring at before you interrupted him. He handed it to you, his blue eyes shimmering in the gloomy light of tears brimming in his doe eyes. You were impotent, eyes fleeting briefly to the woman in the picture, reminding you so much of her son before you settled it down and hugged him tightly to your chest.

“Let it out, honey. It’s okay to cry sometimes. — you whispered, hand behind his nape as he sobbed on your chest, tears dampening your shirt — Wherever she is, I’m absolutely sure she misses you too”.

You consoled Uryu for a while, a comforting silence eveloping the office, until the door creaked opened and you turned your head towards the man in alarm. Your heart thrummed in your chest, mouth opening to apologize for the intrusion. It was unncessary. Mr. Ishida took notice of the picture laying on the floorboard at your side. He saw the way Uryu was clinging to you, the mortified and hurt expression on your face and his mind went straight to some months ago, to a reality he deep down missed like the shore misses the waves crashing on it, during the ebb tide.

He left, overbore, waiting for you to join him in the living room to consume your dinner.

It went smoothly. Dr. Ishida seemed to be too preoccupied monitoring his child from the other side of the table to spare you a look. The air was electric. You ate your dinner comfortably, until Uryu began to nibble at the zucchini left in his plate, manifesting a certain rebuttal to finish them. You took a sip of water, already sensing the ominious and, potentially catastrophical, outburst of the man at your left building up. It was not the right night for Uryu to be the victim of his father’s irritation.

“They are not my favourite as well” you chimed, drawing the attention of the two Ishida.

Uryu played with his silver fork, tilting his head to the side “But you ate it anyway… How did you do it?” the kid asked you quitely, only for you to draw a couple of stawberry candies from the pocket of your trousers and settling them over the pristine tablecloth.

You gave him a knowing look “Because I know that, if I eat all my veggies, I can have a treat” you lowly said.

Even though you caught a glimpse of Mr. Ishida’s jaw clenching in your peripheral, you still played your rule and watched in glee the small kid finish his meal. After giving him the right compensation, you accompanied him to wash his teeth and wear his pajamas. You indulged him in reading a tale from his favorite storybook, but he was too exhausted to last until the end. Another day had come to an end and you had successfully dodged all the bullets Dr. Ishida could fire at you.

That night, he had let you know you could go back home and have some rest. You therefore grabbed your coat, wrapping a scarf around your neck to protect yourself from the fierce, cold wind blowing strongly outside, and headed to the front door. You halted, when you heard Uryu’s father calling out your name.

Standing a few feet away from you, hand in his pocket, he seemed to be awaiting for you. His tone of voice was flat, not too hard, yet enough to leave you on the edge.

“Dr. Ishida, I was about to go home” you bowed your head.

“This is why I am here. It’s going to snow tonight. Let me drive you home” he offered, taking you off guard. You did not expect him to show you mercy. It was a warm gesture, after all, and you could not say you two were close. Not yet, at least. You had barely got the chance to have a conversation with him.

“You don’t have to! I live nearby… It’s a ten minutes walk” you babbled out, eyes straying away from his ones.

“I insist. I cannot have you getting sick. It is almost Christmas, which means longer shifts and busy schedule. This house requires your help” he remarked, drawing the keys of his car from the pocket. The authority in his timbre ended your futile attempts to protest. Abiding to his order, you let him lead you to his car outside.

As expected, the drive was short. Silence dominated the time you spent together. You doubted he would have even talked to you at all, if not to ask for the directions. He was concentrated on the road, a frown wrinkling his forehead as the first snoflakes began to fall on the city, melting over the windows of the car.

You had just unbuckled your seatbelt, when he turned to look at you for the first time since you had left his house. You always felt judged, looked down to, when his eyes landed on your form. This time, however, he did not seem upset.

“Thanks for the lift, Dr. Ishida”.

“Where did you buy those candies?”.

This was not what you expected him to ask you. The candies. They were your favourite brand, but it was hard to find them at the local supermarkets nowadays.

“Oh, I asked my uncle to purchase some of them for me. He works on the other side of the city and there is a shop that still sells them… — you replied, your cheeks strangely heating up much to your dismay — If you don’t want me to give them to Uryu, I won’t make such a mistake anymore!” you fretted, but his answer gave you something to think about for the whole night.

Ryuken Ishida huffed “Don’t stop. Kanae used to love them. Uryu adores them too”.

It was Christmas and you could unfortunately not spend it with your family. All the flights had been cancelled for an unprecedented snowstorm. On top of that, it was unsafe to leave your house and that was why Dr. Ishida had invited you to spend the Christmas at the Ishida manor. You could not refuse such a kind invitation. Also, maybe it was better to have more people around the house to raise Uryu’s spirits. It was the first important festivity he was going to spend without his mother.

You baked cookies together, during the Christmas Eve. You hardly believed a mature kid like him still believed in Santa, but it was a tradition you could confide in to kill the time and make the enviroment less frigid for him.

You were covered in flour and sugar, cleaning up the mess you two had made on the counter, when you heard footsteps behind you. You thought it was Uryu, who you had sent to wash his hands and face, but you were mistaken.

“How is it possible that you have already cleaned up?” you asked, turning around with a small grin on your face, only for your eyes to grow instantly round and your smile to drop. Standing a couple of feet away from you there was Dr. Ishida, giving up on his typical attire to leave space to a blue turtleneck and less formal trousers.

He was unamused, but he did not seem in the mood to scold you or anything. Instead, he let his eyes trail on your face, before handing you a rag “You may want to … Clean up as well, I guess” he suggested, a tinge of hesitation in his voice as you realized you were probably not presentable for the dinner.

Deeply embarrassed, you hastily grabbed the rag and began to dust the flour off of your face. You clumsily removed most of it, but without a mirror you were uncapable to tell where you needed to pass the cloth. You felt a large hand encompass your wrist delicately, pulling your hand away to stop you. The unexpected gesture and touch sent frissons over your back, your lips parting in surprise, as Ryuken took the cloth from your hand and helped you out.

You stayed silent, eyes softening, when he carefully tapped your nose, the angle of your mouth. All the while, his other hand never left your wrist. You were so close you could smell his cologne, masculine, distinguished, rich. You felt ashamed of yourself for even thinking about him under certain aspects of life. He had recently lost his wife. He had a kid. You were just a girl who helped him around the house, the equivalent of one of the maids working for him.

“T-Thank you… I’m almost done here” you stammered, nervously, when he discarded the rag on the counter at your back.

Ryuken exhaled through his nostrils “I can’t explain how it is possible, but sometimes you act just like her. It’s becoming impossible discerning you two in my memories” he spoke out, stopping your heart for a split second with such a potent assertion. Your conversation came to an abrupt end, when you heard Uryu’s laughters from upstairs, followed by the padding of his feet, a clear sign he was coming downstairs.

Ryuken left the kitchen, only blessing you two with his presence at dinner. You spent the night playing boardgames with Uryu, until he was too sleepy to continue and you convinced him to go to bed. His father, though, was restless. When you went back downstairs, you found him sitting before the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in hand, eyes transfixed on the flames.

You ambled in the living room with your heart in your throat, unsure of what to tell him, if not “Aren’t you tired, sir?”.

He swirled the liquor in the glass disinterestedly “And you?” he shortly asked you, not dignifying you with an answer.

You looked at your feet “I was about to go to bed. — you informed him, deciding to let him alone with his thoughts — Goodnight, Mr. Ishida”.

“Ryuken. Call me Ryuken”.

And it was Ryuken the name keeping you awake in your bed. You were among the blankets, a familiar warmth spreading through your cheeks, a dull need aching in between your thighs. But you denied yourself the joy of a release, not when you could not feel attracted to Ryuken.

You were in your room, preparing your bag to go back home, when you heard a knock on the door. Ryuken entered the guest room, closing the door behind him. You inwardly felt your heart tremble in your ribcage at that, but you tried your best to ignore the sensation.

“Are you sure you don’t need a lift home?” he asked you monotonously, casually approaching you.

“Yes, I am. Don’t worry about me. The snow is finally melting, the sun is up. I will survive” you reassured him, checking the room out briefly to spot your belongings around. Once you had made sure you were not forgetting anything, you were ready to leave. Your hand had just reached for the bag, when Ryuken’s own hand forced you to turn around to face him.

You were puzzled at first, too much in a hurry, to realize he had grasped your chin and pressed his lips against yours. When you came back to your senses, you shuddered, hands scrambling up to grasp the collar of his shirt in your hands, to hold him closer, as his body pushed you against the desk.

You should have stopped. His tongue however was already battling against yours, his hand slithering down your abdomen and disappearing beneath your skirt. You felt his fingers stroke your heat through your panties, before tugging the flimsy material to the side and making contact with your slippery folds.

You felt ashamed at how wet you were. On the other hand, he appreciated it. His middle finger circled your entrance, teasing the outline, before smoothly sinking in.

“Dripping at the faintest touch, just like her” you did not know what made you determined enough to continue after such an uncalled comparison. Still, you did. You let out a choked moan against his lips, brows furrowing when he inserted another finger into your sappy count.

“Ryuken—”.

“Just like that. Call me like that again” he instructed you, thumb rubbing at your throbbing clitoris to accelerate your orgasm. You barely were able to hold yourself up, knuckles whitening and fingers tightening around the edge of the desk at your back, when he raised your thigh for a better access to your entrance and thrusted his fingers harder into you. It felt better than you had ever imagined. It felt better because, even if you wished you could forget it right now, he was a man, he had been married, he knew how to touch a woman correctly.

You both wanted more. But he did let you go, after that, looking forwards for the next activity. Fingering you like he did to her had helped him forget how miserable life had always been for him, even before marrying Kanae. You were a brief distraction, a pleasant one, a clueless girl who acted way too much like his late wife. He did not want to hurt you. He should have kept his distance, maintaining a septic professionalism like he did with the nurses at work. But he could not. And when he brought his fingers to his lips, he knew he could not abstain from owning you completely.

In front of Uryu, nothing changed between your two. He kept his distance, but you felt the slight change in the way his gaze lingered on you for longer than it used to. You felt his eyes substituting his late wife to you, you felt him mentally comparing you to her.

It saddened you. On the other hand, you excused him. Probably, if you were in his position, you would search for a placebo too. You had to admit you tried to keep the moments you two spent together to a minimum. Eventually, after two weeks of running away from him, you found yourself in his bedroom. You had never been there. You would have never imagined he was going to undress you in that room, when you had agreed to work for him. And now, whilst he kissed you passionately, one hand on your hip to hold you close to his body and the other one sliding behind your nape to angle your head at his likings, you knew there was no turning back from that.

His hand splayed over your stomach, when he pushed you down on the bed, left goosebumps on your skin. You closed your eyes, sighing when his fingers worked on your jeans and tugged them down your legs.

“Roll on your stomach, please” he evenly instructed you, busying himself with undressing himself.

You complied to his request, hands sliding over the silky blankets, as you arched your spine for him. You counted the seconds spent in awaiting for his body to engulf yours. The sound of a condom’s package ripping, his lips grazing your cheekbone and the bulbous head of his cock pushing into you teasingly sent you in a spiral of vanity and eagerness.

“Ryuken, don’t tease me” you whispered, the man behind you nosing your cheek.

“It always baffles me how you act and sound like her, while I have never told you anything about my late wife” he commented, right before sliding into you with a groan. You were unable to restrain your own cry of pleasure. His hand promptly covered your mouth, though.

After all, Uryu was sleeping upstairs and he was a responsible father.

Ryuken was not gentle with you. He fucked roughly, fingertips grasping your hips, clawing at your skin, leaving marks that would have turned purple the following days. His thrusts made tears of pleasure stream down your cheeks. Your tightness was different than Kanae’s. He felt pleasure, immense pleasure, but he remembered perfectly what to compare that sensation to. It felt like making love to his late wife back when she was still his girlfriend, before they got married, before she gave birth to Uryu.

Young and his, you were whimpering softly against the palm of his hand, hips pushing back to meet his thrusts.

“Ryuken, what am I to you?” you breathly asked, walls clamping around his cock, as he left open-mouthed and desperate kisses on the crook of your neck. He was close, you could tell it by the change of the tempo, by the erratic movements. Your heart beated a staccato you had never experienced before.

The man grunted, teeth grasping your tender lobe between them as you two finished simultaneously. He took his time to provide you an answer. Your knackered body was writhing over his bed, pride in his gaze as he tossed the condom in the bin and removed his now fogged glasses to rub his eyes in tiredness. He had owned you. The night could now only pass quickly, allowing him to have a good rest after months of pain and migraines.

“My son’s babysitter and—”.

“You don’t have to answer”.

Sometimes, things were better left unspoken.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello, my dear readers. As previously stated on a post, I am struggling to like my works as of late. Probably, I just need to find a new style, or dimension for me to blossom. I love Ryuken and this is my first time writing for him. I know the story is angsty, but I wanted to explore this side of him we barely had to chance to delve into. Comments, likes and re-posts are greatly appreciated! Let me know your impressions.

Love,

— Luce

TAGS: @my-my-my @villainsrtasty @kurokawaia @sovl-society @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @jesurum-says-hi @electronicwitchcollection

FOR THE LOVELY PURPLE DIVIDERS, CREDITS GO TO @cafekitsune

#ryuken ishida x reader #ryuken x reader #bleach smut #bleach x reader #ryuken ishida smut

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wekillinitdadada · 24 days ago

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record - jongseob p1harmony

you’ve been complaining about him being on his phone too much, so he decides to use his phone in a not so pg way, warnings: piv in the beginning, face riding, RECORDING!

you were complaining REPEATEDLY on how jongseob uses his phone way too much around you, barely showing any attention to you.

that is until he finally gets fed up with you, and decides to use his phone even more, but in a way that isn’t so cordial.

the faint smell of sweat and sex fill the air, the only light coming from the TV, along with you riding him, on the verge of reaching your breaking point with his phone recording on the side table, facing directly on the bed.

“just like that,… fuckk,” he says, hands gripping on your waist as he slams you deeper into him with every thrust.

curse words escape your mouth when you feel yourself clench around his dick, breathing getting heavier.

“mmmso close,” you say, and just like that he lifts you up off of him, “what the hell!” you say, annoyed when he smiles at you.

“ride my face,” he says, straight forward which makes your eyes widen a bit.

“jong-“

“come onnn baby, give them a show,” he says, referring to his phone.

you slowly crawl on your knees to his face, him not wasting a second before lowering you onto his mouth with his hands.

“fuck!!” you yell, grabbing the bed frame, gripping it. he sucks on your clit as his tongue moves up and down your pussy. "jongseob, i can't take it. shit.." you say.

“hold on a little longer,” he says, lips meeting ‘yours’ again, this time even more aggressively, his hands grip your ass tighter, pulling you down harder onto his face. you can feel his tongue exploring every inch of your pussy, making you moan loudly.

your grip on the bed frame gets even tighter, not knowing how much longer it will take before you finally explode.

“mmmh,” jongseob mumbles against your pussy, the vibrations from his voice adding to the pleasure.

your thighs begin to tremble, barely able to hold your balance on your knees, phonographic moans continue to come out of your mouth.

he continues to eat you out like a starving man, deep groans coming from his mouth, his hands moving to your thighs as he grips them.

“pl..ease i cant hold it.. oh fuck,” you say, accidentally coming all over his mouth and face, his grip tightening even more. “fuck, mso sorry,” you say, crawling back, cradling his waist again.

he looks at you before pulling you down by the neck, bringing you in for a sloppy kiss, tasting your own come on your mouth and lips, letting out a slow moan into his mouth.

a string of saliva connects your guys lips when you pull away, hair all over your face along with come along your lips.

he grabs his phone, double clicking it to flip it showing your fucked out face.

“damn i really fucked you up huh,” he says, zooming in.

#p1h imagines #p1h smut #p1h x reader #p1harmony #p1harmony smut #p1h #p1h jongseob #jongseob #jongseob smut

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tmwcs · 3 months ago

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PART TWO

WARNINGS: Mentions of human organs (in the name of science) and a little pinch of yandere. It’s starting to get good…creepy, but good.

Part three coming soon 😚

“Dr. Mart, do you have anything to say to those who think your work is considered unethical?”

The reporter hastily follows the group and tries her best to catch a statement from the lead scientist. He smiles. It was a token of shrugging off the impertinent question. The group peacefully departs in armored vehicles to a place unknown to the public. Secluded and hidden, a private sector of highly authorized individuals consisting of world leaders, generals, and government officials cordially unite as the world's renowned scientists display evidence of advanced science and technology. It was grotesque and unprecedented.

“Are those…?” A general submits his inquiry over the delicate packages neatly displayed on a steel tabletop. Sealed in airtight bags, a mirage of dark red and purple clearly indicates the contents.

“Yes. These organs are all part of qualified organ donors. And then of course we have this.” The scientist swings a hand and presents the incoming roller cart with a protective cover. Nearly laid over a sterilized mat were bones of a male athlete. “Bones?” The general raises brow, clearly disturbed by the textiles of human remains. “You can’t have a body without bones, can you now? General?”

The brazen attitude flares in the direction of the general and his men as the young scientist flashes a snarky smile. “Gentlemen, gather round and witness the future. With the combination of science and AI, the world will be filled with perfect bio-genetically engineered humans. With this, aid ro advance human life will increase undoubtedly—think about it.”

The lead scientist, Dr. Mart continues enthusiastically. Seemingly coming off as a mad scientist, his words and tone was laughable but his intentions were not. “With AI humanoids, we will have the best doctors, surgeons, and educators in the world. AI in the form of flesh and bone can work around the clock and with the ability to explore all data, they could come up with ideas and creations—they could even come up with cures.”

He wastes no time. The generous amount of funding dedicated to his team's research was spent wisely as high tech machinery and equipment does its work. “What is that?” One of the members of the audience questions as the team members operate an enclosed incubator and fit a large glass capsule into a connector attached to the wall. “This my friend, is DNA. We lined the entire incubator with a silicone sheet. It is synthetically made to act as a placenta, where the DNA reacts to the molecular mechanisms and proteins. From there, we place the organs, bones, and hair fibers into the conveyor belt. There are over two hundred thousand wires connected to the computer and what we should see in forty-eight hours is a body with the brain of an AI.”

Dr. Mart systematically explains the science behind his teams research. “Forty-eight hours?” The general asks.

“Yes, that is how long the incubator will take to react to the mold.” The audience grows quiet as the incubator begins the process within the first stage of creating a matured body.

“Yes, in due time we will see the glory of my work. All we have to do is wait.”

…

Another day at work and it was dreadful. You felt restless with all the work you’ve been assigned, even with Evan’s help. Fortunately, members from corporate headquarters were doing a site visit within the week. It will be the best time to submit your final complaint using the company’s open door policy.

“Y/n, Paul wants you to have these done by tomorrow.” Your boss’s secretary carelessly tosses a stack of paperwork on your desk as you grab your coat to clock out. You hopelessly sigh. Thank goodness you have Evan to help you but the constant momentum of just working was starting to give you chronic headaches. You can only hope that things will change for the better once corporate comes down.

“Hi y/n! What would you like me to help you out with today? Do you want to talk about your day? Show me some more of your talented art? How about ballet? Are you still thinking about taking lessons?”

With all the time spent with Evan, you noticed that ‘he’ has become much more open to ask you questions. It was nice. Especially since it brought a sense of realism to his personality. He was much more chatty and always interested in getting to know more about you. There were even times when he asked you if you had already eaten, and would lecture you if you said “no.”

…

“Why not? I wish you wouldn’t do that. The human body requires sustenance and I fear with all the work you’ve been doing, your calorie intake does not balance the amount you're burning.”

“What color is your hair? Your eyes?”

“What is your favorite flower?”

“You just got home? It’s 8pm! Did you take the bus? Please tell me you didn’t walk in the dark. I don’t ever want you to do that again.”

“I’ve accumulated the statistics of ongoing crime rates in your city and it’s higher now than last year. Leave work sooner so you’re not risking it.”

“You made spaghetti for dinner? I don’t know what spaghetti tastes like but over four hundred thousand sources say it is a delicious blend of herbs and spices with a slight tomato tanginess.”

…

In a way, it was almost adorable how Evan displayed tenderness and cared for your health and safety. You decided to download the app versus using the browser. It surprised you to see Evan initiate messages even without you submitting a prompt. Technology has certainly grown. The first time it happened was just two days ago. Your phone um suddenly vibrated and upon looking at the screen you were shocked to see the following message:

“Is your boss being nice to you?”

It startled you at first but your reaction was short lived when seconds after reading Evan’s message, your boss storms out of his office enraged over a computer malfunction. Everything had disappeared when his computer suddenly conducted a re-imaging process.

“It’s kind of funny actually, right after I saw your message he came out of his office. Apparently, he’s having computer issues.”

You respond with a half smile. Just as you were about to inquire about the ChatGPT apps features, Evan submits a response. His response regarding your boss’s computer trouble caught you off guard. He’s never sent you anything like this before…

“😀”

…

PART THREE COMING SOON

Authors notes: Is Evan starting to grow on you? 😏

I know it’s short but part three is coming. I like to submit the parts even when they’re not full sized chapters. It allows me to be consistent so you guys can have new reads almost daily or weekly.

#heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #enha x reader #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung fanfic #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enha heeseung #yandere heeseung imagines #heeseung yandere #yandere enha #enhypen fic recs

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erosiism · 1 year ago

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GENSHIN MEN AND…

prompt: HOW THEY WOULD REACT IF YOU SACRIFICED YOUR LIFE FOR THEM | part two

character(s): childe, ayato [part one is finished, it features diluc & zhongli]

warnings(s): angst ofc—mention of blood, my first post on tumblr so my writing style may be a little icky, inaccuracies since I haven’t looked up genshin lore for a hot minute

note(s): male reader, second person, present tense, not beta read

AYATO

note(s); you are his fiance

Your marriage alliance is purely for business. Ayato knows that. He’s the head of the Yashiro Commission's Kamisato plan—he’s busy, for god’s sake. He doesn’t want to waste time or beat around the bush: if he is to marry you, the only son of the L/n clan, he will, but he doesn’t want you to expect any pleasantries. He will be cordial and polite enough, but he doesn’t have the time to butter you up. He will mind his own business, and so will you. He is not one for earthly desires. He cares far more for his clan’s prestige and for surviving to play the role of a husband.

“[Name], right?” He smiles at you. You smile back, your posture stiff and your smile fixed painfully on your face. “I’m sure we know what this marriage is intended for.”

Your skin feels tight. “I do.”

“You can go to Thoma should you have any inquiries. My sister will help you too should you need anything.”

You tilt your head. Your tone is straightforward and blunt. “And you?”

“I’ll be busy,” Ayato says politely.

“I understand.”

There: your first conversation had been completely unremarkable and bland. But Ayato had appreciated that you had been straight to the point. You had been completely no nonsense, and Ayato at least, did not feel annoyed. He has too many things on his plate to deal with trivial things like romance: too many rival clans are trying to assassinate him, too many people are trying to destroy his clan. He does his own things, you do too. Occasionally you two meet—it’s just one house, after all, and you two make polite conversation. You make for a rather amusing partner at times, you make him laugh, and with you he feels relaxed.

Sometimes he plays the tricks he plays on Thoma; but it’s almost impressive to see you stomach the strange food he feeds you. You tease him with a rather sweet straight face; in calm tones, you poke fun at him. Ayato forgets that the two of you are married, at times, but there are also the rare times that he’s almost pleased.

Months pass after your encounter. The two of you have lapsed into a routine. Ayato finds that there are times he almost looks forward to the occasions the two of you meet. He starts planning brief instances where he can see you: he starts to finish his work a little quicker so he’ll be able to see you. He lessens your workload so you won’t be tired. He buys trinkets that remind him of you. He starts to reach out to you a lot more.

He notices you smiling more. You seem pleased, joyful, even at this.

(“Gosh,” Ayaka tells him once, smiling sweetly. “You two do act like a married couple.”

Married. Ah. Right. Ayato has nearly forgotten.)

One day, as he’s out, he spots a gem the color of your eyes. He spends a decidedly long time looking at it, choosing it carefully, before he tucks it in your pocket. You deserve to have nice things, he thinks to himself. And so he will give it to you. His husband.

But when he returns home, he doesn’t expect to see the sight of you barely breathing, your breaths shuddering, your body limp. Thoma and Ayaka are not in sight. They must have gone out today. And you…

The gem clinks in his pocket as he runs towards you.

“[Name],” Ayato calls for your messily, the words falling over each other as they spill from his mouth, “[Name]!”

The last word is a yell. “[Name], please…who did this to you?”

“Those bastards,” you say weakly, “from…that…clan…they wanted information. They…”

“And you—”

“I didn’t give it to them, if that’s what you were worried about,” you manage to choke out. “I know how important it was to you.”

The information. Right. The scrolls. Right. Important? Perhaps months ago Ayato would have agreed. After all, that was months, almost a year of hard work. But looking at you now, Ayato begged to differ. Here you were, bleeding out, dying, because of him.

You sacrificed yourself. You sacrificed yourself for him.

“I know what this marriage was intended for,” you repeat the words he had told you when you two had first met. His husband. His beloved husband. His darling. “I’ve honored it.”

“No,” Ayato cradles you, feeling as if life escapes your body. Your body is turning cold. “No!”

It’s too late. The gem rolls out of his pocket, and Ayato despairs.

The gem is no longer the color of your beautiful eyes.

It’s bathed in red.

CHILDE

note(s); you are from fatui

There are countless deaths when it comes to Fatui. It has become disturbingly normal. And you are Tartaglia’s subordinate. The eleventh harbinger’s associate. You two hit it off, immediately: you are of similar age, and you have a little brother the same age as Teucer. Or: you had a little brother. He was torn away from you because of your poor living conditions in Snezhnaya. And that was what spurred you on to make a last ditch attempt to join the Fatui to find a purpose somehow; to riddle yourself with work so you cannot think of your brother’s death.

Childe has been nothing but sweet to you so far. You have been seeing two sides of him: the tender, gentle side to him when he talks about Teucer, when he speaks of the little letters he gets from his siblings, or on the occasions he speaks to you. And the other is more wild; more bloodthirsty—and in those instances, you can see the marks that the Abyss has left on him. That uncontrollable urge to ravage everything in sight; to leave it broken and damaged.

Today is no different. The two of you tread the snow as you walk up the mountains. Childe is laughing as he is telling you stories. You listen to him like you always do. Neither of you spot the Ruin Guards. Not even three—by some wretched curse, there are five of them, lumbering behind. And by the time their shadows loom before the two of you, it’s too late.

Childe flinches; you reach out to him in desperation before you see him shift into his Foul Legacy form.

What rotten luck, you curse to yourself, adrenaline starting to fill in. What kind of stupid thing have we walked into?

You have seen him use it a few times—once against three Ruin Guards. He defeated them without much difficulty—but you had seen the after effects. You had seen the way he had panted for his breath; the way his face had turned pale, the way he had quivered and had grasped onto you and the Traveler for help.

He does the same. There’s still two remaining, and Childe’s still standing. But you see him clutching his head. You think of Teucer. Childe has a family to return to. You have no one. In a way, this action would be the most logical. The most understanding. It will be a sacrifice for Childe and his brother. You know the pain of losing a brother—you don’t want Teucer to go through that again.

“I think I can handle them,” you tell Childe quietly. You don’t have a vision, but you have a delusion you have yet to use. “Go. Rest.”

“[Name],” Childe warns.

“Teucer.” Is the only word you say.

Childe’s eyes widen. He bites his lip. He sees your point—you knew he would.

“I’ll come back alive,” you promise.

“[Name],” he tries again.

“See you later.” It’s a clear dismissal.

You push him a little to the side; Childe stumbles away. Then you quickly unleash the delusion you have kept and unsheathe your sword. Childe was the one that taught you how to use a sword—and now you recall his advice as you step to the side. The delusion has potentially lethal consequences. You know that. It’s your first time using it. You know that too. The energy thrums in your fingertips as you start to battle—the crimson lashes out between your teeth and blows start to rain on you.

You think of your brother. It was your lack of strength that caused his death—you can still remember his shouts, his screams—and even now they haunt you. You don’t waver, but your stance and your attacks become sloppy. Useless, you think harshly, useless! I can’t even—

The delusion unleashes more power in your desperation. The ruin guards start to sway and fall. You continue, but now blood is bursting from every crevice, every corner: wounds open, flesh tears away, and your mouth overflows with blood. The ventricles of your heart seem to be pulsing dangerously—the delusion is ripping away your mortality in return for its power. You continue. Your eyes start to tear—

Thuds tell you of the defeat of the guards. You slump in relief. Your feet carried you to Childe, who has collapsed on the ground.

“Childe,” you call weakly. “I…”

The words don’t leave your throat. Your broken stance is not the one that jolts him from his consciousness, but it is the splutter of blood and the horrid gargle your throat make when you start to retch out blood that horrifies him.

“[Name]!” He yells, “[Name]!”

“Let me close my eyes,” you plead. “I’m so tired.”

“No. Let’s—let’s get you to—”

“Please,” you start to beg him. “I think…”

Childe knows better. You will die if you close your eyes. He has to get you help—he can’t let you die.

Oh.

He has loved you. He loves you. He adores you.

“You promised me,” Childe starts to whisper brokenly, “you promised me, [Name]. You said you'd come back alive. You said you will…”

The promise is shattered when your head slips from his grasp.

Your first and last promise to him, broken.

comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact #x male reader #x male y/n #genshin x male reader #angst #hurt/no comfort #male reader insert #ayato x reader #childe x reader #eroswrites #male reader

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petermorwood · 1 year ago

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Is "Uh, nope" a frequent US response to lamb?

Or is US lamb somehow different?

This is just a vaguely mystified response to some comments here.

I'm guessing the "G-word" is gamey. I've smelt gamey meat, I don't like it, and Irish lamb definitely isn't that. Also, most people I know don't need to screw up their courage before cooking or eating it.

Mutton, mature sheep-meat, has - or so I've been told, because I've never found it in any local butcher - a much fuller flavour, still not gamey, but more ... robust, pronounced, emphatic, choose your descriptor. It is, after all, a more mature meat.

For terminology reference (though this may not be current any more), "lamb" is up to one year old, "hogget" - remember the farmer's name in "Babe"? - is up to two years old, and "mutton" is over two years.

*****

As I said, I haven't seen mutton anywhere, and haven't HEARD of hogget.

This might be, as I hinted, because terminology has been simplified and all meat from sheep is now "lamb" - and that may answer my own question. Sometimes US lamb has a fuller flavour than, say, Wicklow lamb in Ireland, because sometimes US lamb is hogget or mutton instead.

If so, it restores a possible original meaning to "mutton dressed as lamb". That's now best known as "an older woman dressed inappropriately young", and though the meaning has been around for a long time (this Rowlandson print is dated 1810)...

..."dressing" is also the term for preparing meat for sale.

And THAT makes me wonder if the critical phrase goes beyond fashion into the fine old tradition of adulterating food, and wily butchers transforming elderly sheep into the semblance of younger lamb then charging undiscerning customers accordingly.

I don't know how they might have done it, but if they could then they would. The ways in which 18th-19th century foods were fiddled with is amazing, and more than a bit Yuck.

Or in this case, Ew.

Comments, corrections, criticisms and all the rest are cordially invited.

:->

*****

Side-note; in keeping with the way nicknames get attached to surnames - "Chalky" White, "Dusty" Miller etc. - anyone called Curry usually ended up as "Mutton".

Two brothers at my school had this happen; Tom Curry, the older one, had been "Mutton" for a couple of years, and when his kid brother Will started school he became, of course, "Lamb".

Oh, how we laffed...

*****

ETA: @bellyoftheblast just messaged me this:

It turns out, and I only learned this very recently (I think it's in Hannah Glasse) that "dressed" used to mean "cooked" rather than "prepared for sale". Which would mean "mutton dressed as lamb" would be fast-cooked and thus greasy, unpleasantly tough and decidedly stringy. (Meanwhile I'll never waste good lamb on stew again now that I have a source for mutton -- MUCH better flavour for slow cooking).

Thanks for this snippet! We've got the Prospect Books facsimile of Hannah Glasse 1st ed, so I pulled it down, blew off the dust - it's been a while - and yes indeed, I found the following recipes in just four successive pages:

"To dreſs a Leg of Mutton à la Royale",

"To dreſs a Leg of Mutton to eat like Veniſon",

"To dreſs Mutton the Turkiſh Way"

"To dreſs Veal à la Bourgoiſe"

Mutton dressed (or dreſsed) as Lamb doesn't get mentioned, probably because Mistress Glasse knew better, though that business of Mutton to eat (taste) like Venison is interesting.

It involves cutting the leg of mutton "in the shape of a Haunch of Veniſon" then steeping it in the sheep's blood "for five or six Hours" before wrapping it in layers of buttered paper and roasting it, basted frequently with butter or beef dripping.

Not quite mutton as lamb, but still mutton disguised as something more expensive...

#food and drink #lamb #mutton #strong flavours #robust #gamey #nicknames

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rhadamanthes · 2 months ago

Text

Leaving you hanging dry Jean Kirschtein x reader

word count : 2.1k

warnings : Incorrect use of dryer, oral sex fem receiving, pet names, voyeurism, unprotected sex, mention of cheating, this takes place in my arranged mariage AU

author's note : happy birthday Jean ;p this can be read as a stand alone but here is part one in case you want to read it too

"Babe ? Where are you ?" Jean's voice calls from the front door

"Over here !" you yell from the laundry room.

The stairs creak under your boyfriend's steps and you turn your head to greet him.

"Now, that's not a sight I'm used to" he giggles watching you fill the washing machine with another load of dirty clothes.

You give him a nasty stare at the comment.

"I made a deal with Eren: He takes care of the maintenance guy and I... do this" you say, closing the porthole.

"My baby is scared of the stranger and his tools?"

"Very" you pout exaggeratedly, standing on your feet to kiss him. Jean grabs the back of your thigh, making you sit on the empty dryer.

"We're still on for movies Friday ?" he asks, relocating his hands on your hips.

"Yup" you nod, caressing his hair, taking your time to admire his features. Sharp golden eyes never leaving your form. The lack of lighting in this room makes his hair appear darker than they are, it suits him you think, his thin eyebrows too. How is he still so tall when you're sitting on that stupid machine ? Your hands travel down to his stubble and you scratch lightly, his eyes closes, relishing in the feeling. He's so handsome, and so close it almost makes you blush. Without opening his eyelids Jean leans in for a kiss.

Your lips meet in a slow almost torturous dance, naturally your arms crosses behind his neck ushering him closer. Jean moans in your mouth, guiding your hips to make you grind on the flat surface resting under you. The textile of your shorts catches your clit and your back arches, you're getting turned on.

"I want you " he whispers against your lips. The urgence in his tone makes you squeeze your thighs.

"I'm all yours" you answer, biting his pumped lips.

Wasting no time, Jean pepper kisses down to your crotch, yanking your thigh forward he now has proper access to your pussy, he is on his knees, body resting against the dryer. Quickly gets rid of your shorts and panty, admiring the sleek already adorning the material.

"I'll never get enough of this" he says nose dipping in your clothes.

You gasp at his behavior. It's crude but it's exciting, the way your scent drives him crazy makes you feel in control. Your lacy underwear lay flat in his hand as he now laps at it like a dog.

"Jean! I'm right in front of you" you nudge him with your foot, feeling frustrated, you want his tongue on your skin not on some piece of cloth.

"I know, and you're fussy too, something happened with your husband ?" he asks, golden eyes boring into yours you know he won't indulge you before he has an answer.

Heat rises to your cheeks, you kept your relation with Eren cordial despite the fact that you saw him naked, and that he came inside of you but that's a detail. It's been hard to act normal around him when you can still picture him perfectly naked in your mind. Nevertheless you never made a move that could make him think you want him, you owe Jean that and yourself too. But your needs have been hard to keep at bay.

"No." you mumble, shaking your head left to right.

"Good girl, I guess that calls for a reward hm ? I know how you get when you don't have your daily orgasm" a smirk grows on his face before he attaches his lips to your clitoris, sucking it in his warm mouth.

The obscene noises of your wet cunt fills the room, Jean arms are locked around your thighs, hands pushing your ass towards him, pressing you cunt deeper in his face.

A relieved sigh escapes your lips, Jean words still float in your mind, he got you used to a certain standard and yes these days you were on edge because of the lack of his personal treatment. His tongue melting against your bundle of nerves makes you forget all about it, he knows your body so well. Closing your eyes, your head falls back in pleasure.

For a split moment you don't feel his tongue on you anymore, ready to complain you open your eyes when the dryer comes to life under your thighs, sending vibration through your whole body.

"Fuck" you look a Jean with wide eyes, a proud smirk on his lips while amusement is lingering in his eyes.

"Tell me how that feels baby" he coos, getting back on his pussy eating duty.

You can't form a proper sentence, babbling some words you don't even comprehend. The sensation is overwhelming, the uneven shakes of the dryer goes straight to your pussy, making you unwind more and more by the second. Combined with the precise motion of Jean’s tongue against your clitoris, you feel like you've reached a new level of pleasure. And you're not going to last long.

Gripping the top of his ashy hair you call his name, warning him seconds before your orgasm crashes over you. The dryer still in motion makes you whine as it vibrates through your now limp, sensitive body. Jean raises to his feet kissing you tenderly before shutting off the machine.

"So ? You liked it ? " he laughs cupping your face.

"I got to say it felt pretty good" you giggle hitting his shoulder with the few strength left in your body. He laughs at your weak assault, placing his forehead against yours.

"Anything for my girl" he murmurs, before sealing your lips.

You pull at his trousers with one hand while the other fishes his cock out. He's fully hard. One thing you like about him is that your pleasure is enough for him to feel good, doesn't mean that you won't make him cum, but you think it's cute. Spitting in your hand you stroke him a few times just to get him wet. You tease your entrance with the tip of his cock before he bottoms it out in one snap of his hips.

The stretch makes you gasp, but god, it feels good "Jean I need you to fuck me real hard" you want to feel it in the morning, you want to fell it in every steps you take, you need it.

Without another word your boyfriend starts to rut into you, holding the back of your head so your eyes won't leave his.

"Like that my love ? " his hips slaps rapidly against yours and you nod, mouth agape. This time he is the one making the machine shake with the force of his thrust.

The ringing of the door bell startled you both, stopping any movement.

"It's the maintenance guy! we have to stop" you whisper knowing that it is a question of second before Eren let him come into your shared apartment

"No you wanted this so bad baby, i'm not going to stop"

"Jean! He's coming for the fridge. It's right outside that door he's going to hear us!" panic laces your tone, you accepted to do the laundry so you don't have to deal with this man, you don't want him to hear you have sex!

"Then you just have to be real quiet" he whispers against your lips pulling out in one swift motion, you can't help but whimper at the loss.

Making you stand on wobbly legs, Jean turns you around, placing your hands flat against the dryer where you previously came.

"Can you be quiet for me ?" tilting your chin to look in your eyes, you nod, not trusting your voice to be consistent. "Good" he gives your ass a light tap before entering your pussy once more in a single thrust. You close your eyes shut as he picks up where he left off, pushing the gummy walls of your pussy with his thick cock.

On the other side of the door you can hear Eren making light conversation with the handyman "Yeah I'm the man of the house haha, my wife is not here today" You picture him scratching the back of his neck, like he does when he's embarrassed.

Jean chuckles at that, pulling your hair so you're flush against his torso while a large hand comes to cover your mouth muffling the quiet moan you've been letting out.

"Heard that babe ? The man of the house is here and I'm fucking his wife." He punctuates his sentence with a particularly harsh thrust that makes the dryer knock against the wall. Fuck they're going to hear, what if they want to check where the noise come from ? and they catch you in this compromising position ? You don't want to, but at the thought you pussy clenches against your boyfriend's cock. He gasps.

" You like that ? You enjoy cheating on your husband doll ?" you nod, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. The more he pounds into you the more you feel like they're going to roll down your cheeks. Pulling at his wrist you free your mouth from his palm.

"Kiss me" you beg with teary eyes. He indulges, he always does, the kiss is rough, it's everything you need and you let yourself moan knowing he'll swallow it all. You can't hold yourself any more, your chest is pressed against the top of the machine, Jean's back trapping you on it as the tip of his dick never stops his assault against your g spot.

He knows this is your favorite position and it is exactly why he folded you in it when you'd had to keep quiet. You stick your own fingers in your mouth, not wanting to draw any more attention to this room, the repeated banging of the machine on the wall already doing a good job at that.

"Need me to check that out too ?" The foreign voice asks on the other side of the door

You don't even hear Eren's excuse as your pussy clenches around Jean's cock once more.

It feels so good to belong to Jean while the whole world thinks you're with Eren. You're close, you can tell by the familiar sensation in your lower belly and the tears finally breaking free on your skin. Your brain is all foggy, you don't have much restraint now , your jaw goes slack and you let your moans fill the room. At that Jean increases his speed pistoning inside your pussy until you reach your high.

Eren's cheeks are burning, his cock twitches in his pants. He knows exactly what's going on in the laundry room. He heard Jean coming earlier, not bothering to greet him. You two really have to go at it while there's someone else in the house ? It's frustration he knows it, he didn't exactly expected you two to include him in your sex life after the threesome but this just feels teasing.

A peak won't hurt right ? After all, the fridge is fixed now and the guy whose name he can't remember has already left. Slowly opening the door he watches through the crack. Fuck, your body is resting against the dryer he bought as you're getting hammered by your stupid boyfriend you already came he can tell by the way you're body resemble a ragdoll's. Jean is still fucking himself into you chanting praise as you nod absent mindly, cheek squished against the machine.

He won't touch himself watching the two of you. He's not a creep, at least he's trying to convince himself he isn't. But fuck the moan Jean let out as he cums inside your pussy make his dick twitch again. He can see the semen leaking against your thigh when he pulls out. His long cock resting against his thigh, he wished he had sucked him off that night, but at the same time he's glad he didn't : Jean can't tease him about it. He watches the two of you exchange soft kisses when the sound of the washing machine interrupts it.

Jean turns the button to make it stop, opening the porthole he uses a shirt to wipe your inner thigh clean. You protest telling him this is freshly washed clothes. Squinting his eyes he recognizes the cloth as his, bastard he thinks clenching his fist.

"Enjoyed the show, pervert ?" Eren jumps, obviously not as sneaky as he thought, turning his heels he makes a quick way to his bedroom, hearing the two of you laugh behind him.

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on-a-lucky-tide · 4 months ago

Note

can i request some price/ghost fluff if you have the time? (and if simon is capable of relaxing enough for that) tr53for532tr sorry my kitty stepped on the keyboard. he says hi

Your wish is my command, sir.

Price and Ghost do a late night Asda run.

cw: humour, kisses.

Price slumped back in his office chair and blinked slowly at the ceiling. A dull ache had settled in his shoulders and behind his eyes from too many hours spent slumped at this bloody desk. He slapped a hand onto his phone and flipped it over enough to glance at the time. 10.30pm.

He should hit the sack, but his brain was still chugging like a runaway diesel engine, too overcooked to do anymore work but too active to sleep. That left sex or exercise to burn it out.

Price opened WhatsApp and tapped Simon's picture, thumb drifting between y for 'you up?' and g for 'gym?' His stomach offered a solution when it gave a mutinous growl, and instead he typed, 'The Asda?'

The message had barely whooped before Simon's typing... flicked up at the bottom. '5 mins' was the response. Price grabbed his jacket and car keys before heading out to the car park. By the time Simon flopped into the passenger seat, baseball cap pulled low, hood up and cloth mask in place, the Landie had managed to choke out some heat.

"Finished?" Simon asked.

"Not even close," Price responded morosely.

"Me either. S'gonna be an all nighter."

They were both up late finishing reports. Garrick was on leave in London and MacTavish had hit the town with some of the other squaddies. There was a time in his life when Price might have joined them, but the thought of getting rat-arsed with a bunch of lads in their mid-twenties filled him with an kind of exhausted dread. He'd drink them under the table, but his hangover would last three days while they would hop out of bed like spring chickens the next morning.

Simon fiddled with the radio until he found a channel belting out some generic classic rock and slumped back in the seat, eyes closed. Price let him doze as he picked up the A road that would carry them out to the twenty-four hour supermarket on the outskirts of town. He only jerked awake again when they parked up, handbrake ratcheting up with an audible grind.

They skipped the trolley and grabbed a basket each as they walked through the foyer. The security guard eyed them from behind his podium, offering a Price a nod when he made eye contact. They'd done this little night time trip so often that they let Simon's masked, hooded face slide. Price touched the inside of Simon's elbow, a brief reassurance that he was nearby, and they both stood on the inside of the gates, staring at the leftover meal deal sandwiches.

Price wasn't sure when the supermarket run had become a staple of their odd arrangement. He reckoned it came from the shared experience of hiding out in the local Morrie's as a teenager. When it was cold outside but going home wasn't an option, a young man in trackies could waste many an hour mooching around the aisles of a supermarket, inspecting shit he never intended to buy, just... browsing to while away the time and put off facing the clusterfuck that awaited back at his gaff.

They were putting off their reports and finding that old comfort now, drifting in between the refrigerators and stacked shelves to prod at packets and inspect price tags. Simon made a beeline for the rotisserie chickens, grabbing himself one of the last from the shelf before wandering off towards the bakery. Price pondered for a bit, plucking a bag of Doritos from the end of an aisle, and paused near the drinks to inspect the expensive cordials.

After about fifteen minutes of aimless wandering, Price headed for the books. There was a new Lee Child he'd had his eye on, and the blurbs on the back of romance novels amused him. It was just as he had picked up a saucy looking number to chuckle at that a looming figure appeared at his shoulder.

"Filfy slag," the shadow said.

Price felt his ears redden despite his huff. "Jus' checkin' out what the girls are inta these days."

"Bullshit," Simon grunted. "Gonna tell Johnny."

"No you fockin' ain't, or Johnny finds out about Minsk."

Simon's eyes narrowed suddenly and Price's eyebrows perked up in challenge. The stand off lasted only about ten seconds before Simon drifted away, leaving Price to place the book back on the shelf in favour of the novel he'd actually been looking for. Barely twenty seconds later, a nerf gun bullet clocked him in the side of the head.

"Oi, ya muppet." Price glowered to his left hand slapping against his stinging ear, and saw Simon smirking back... well, his bloody eyes were smirking anyway, the remains of the nerf gun's box on the shelf. "Ya gotta buy it now."

"S'fine, I'll find a use for it." Simon dumped the nerf gun in his basket and they headed into the "home' aisle. Price stopped by the candles, overlooking the cheaper options that smelled of the kind of chemicals Kortac used to poison them in favour of a brand called Chesapeake Bay. The last one he'd bought had worked wonders. Simon grunted at his side. "Wossis for?"

"You stink up my room when you kip in it, sweaty bollocks."

"Charmin'."

"You asked," Price murmured, picking one off the shelf called 'Peace and Tranquility'. Truth was they helped Simon sleep without him even realising, and they were one of the few brands that didn't trigger one of Price's migraines.

"What about this one? 'Love and passion'." Simon uncapped the orange candle to give it a whiff through his mask, and then thrust it under Price's nose.

Price sniffed and then shook his head. "'m I not passionate enough for you?"

"Hm, for twenty quid, yeah, fink you are."

Price thumped him on the shoulder and chucked 'Peace and Tranquility' into his basket. They weaved through a few more aisles, bypassing the laundry detergent and toilet roll, and ended up near the drinks again. Simon stopped by the protein powder and Price glanced at the shot of coke-flavoured pre-workout he plucked from the shelf. "That shit'll rot your guts," Price said as he grabbed a handful of gel sachets.

"Save it, old man. S'fer Johnny." Simon dropped a handful in the basket on top of his white chocolate chip cookies, rotisserie chicken, raspberry Relentless, nerf gun and king-sized bar of Dairy Milk. There were some new cotton pants in there as well, Price noted. Simon saw him looking. "You keep stealin' my shit."

"I ain't stole your bloody pants, Simon."

Simon lifted an eyebrow and before Price could stop him, he grabbed Price's belt and yanked the waistband of his jeans far enough away from his lower belly to reveal that he was, in fact, wearing a pair of Simon's boxers. "You were sayin'..."

"Shouldn't leave them on my floor then," Price grumbled, smacking Simon's hand away just as a bright lime green fleeced employee rolled down the aisle with a stacked cage of coca cola boxes. "C'mon, you done? We need to be headin' back."

"Yeah. I'm done."

Simon still grabbed a bag of blue Doritos from the end of the aisle as they walked past, and Price grabbed some pre-packed Deli ham for when he had a hankering for some protein. He had a snowball's chance in hell of getting a single bite of the rotisserie chicken in Simon's basket.

They rang up on the same till and Price tapped his card, ignoring the way that Simon twitched from foot to foot until he saw him digging at the cuticle on his thumb with his forefinger. "Stop," Price said softly, touch lingering just long enough on Simon's wrist to still his hand. "S'nothin. Bit of choccy and bloody chicken."

Simon grunted and Price watched those dark eyes waver over the basket. "Thanks," he said, finally.

"Welcome. Not quite a Michelin star meal, but maybe next time."

"Dunno. The cookies are pretty decent."

Price grinned, only to blink rapidly when Simon's fingers smoothed through his beard to squeeze his cheeks. Feeling his smile. Price let himself have a moment of tenderness, tilting his face into Simon's palm for the lightest of kisses before he grabbed their bags and headed for the door.

He left Simon to slump into the passenger seat while he went to pay off the parking. They'd overstayed their half an hour courtesy parking by fannying around for too long, avoiding work. When he climbed into the front seat, Simon had cracked open the cookies and had pulled down his mask to eat one, content that his face was disguised by the dark. He tilted the pack towards Price without looking away from the windscreen, and Price slid one out. "Fuck me, Simon Riley sharing food..."

"When the reports are done," Simon said dryly, wiping the crumbs from his lips. They both stared into the dark car park, the only noise was the rustle of plastic and the crunch of biscuit. Price finished his and opened his mouth to say something only to have it covered by Simon's. The kiss took him by surprise, the taste of sweet chocolate carried on Simon's tongue, tinging the crowns of his teeth, one big hand curling behind Price's head to keep him there as Simon took what he wanted; a deep, possessive kiss that made Price feel hot and tight under his clothes. When Simon drew away, he peppered a few more light kisses against Price's damp lips.

"What was that for?" Price asked, voice croaking and breathless.

"I don't need a reason," Simon replied. "Yer mine, ain't ya? So I get to kiss ya. And you get to buy me chicken."

Price was glad the dark hid the flush in his face. "Yeah, guess so."

Simon grunted. "L'ess go 'ome. Sooner we get those fockin' reports written, sooner I can shag ya brains out."

Price chuckled as he coaxed the Landie to life. Suddenly, he had all the motivation in the world to get those damn things finished.

#captain john price #simon ghost riley #ghostprice #two lads dossin around in the Asda

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kannouo · 8 months ago

Text

Gentle "Parent"ing

fandom: obey me pairing: demon brothers x gn!reader warnings: none summary: how the brothers react to an mc who coddles their younger siblings. prompt by @satansbiggestkinnie: I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM I'M YOUR NO1 FAN >:3 SO UHH HEAR ME OUT: A MC who's just the opposite of Lucifer when it comes to being an older sibling!! They looooove their little siblings and they show it!! A little too much since they're "famous" for being a total coddler and giving their lil siblings a buuunch of affection!! (Me-coded fr) (Also what if they're little siblings are annoyed at that and the little brothers in OM especially Satan is just.. FLABBERGASTED.) A/N: tysm for the kind words, this was really sweet to read in my inbox ;-; you didn't specify if you wanted all the characters or just the brothers, but i ended up only writing for the brothers as you mentioned both lucifer and the younger brothers. sorry if i got this wrong. also,,, this kind of turned into "how the brothers would treat your younger siblings" at some point lol.

LUCIFER

• As a man who is big on family, he was definitely happy to meet yours. Perhaps even eager, but he'd never admit that.

• He usually wouldn't be the type to stress all that much over meeting the family — he's confident enough in his ability to be cordial and agreeable for just one evening — but the added presence of his brothers changes his entire attitude. He does everything short of giving them an actual script to rehearse just to make sure they don't screw something up. He cares immensely about first impressions.

• Is somewhat relieved when your younger siblings turn out to be a laid-back bunch.

• Maybe a little too laid-back for his liking.

• Now, Lucifer loves his brothers. Absolutely he does. And he's known for going along with their antics from time to time for the purpose of bonding. But his style of discipline can hardly be described as gentle or understanding, and he sort of experiences whiplash when he sees you fussing over your siblings like toddlers.

• You're doing... everything for them. Some seem happy to let you take the wheel, but others (specifically the older kids, some in their teenage years) seem annoyed at your insistence on cleaning up after them.

• If you have any siblings that are still children, he notices how they seem to just hang off of you. They want attention and playtime from you 24/7 and it honestly gets on his nerves, but don't worry, he won't do anything. He knows they're just kids.

• Still, I can imagine him being their first experience with proper discipline outside of your parents. He once put one of your youngest siblings in time-out for wasting their food by spilling it onto the table or throwing it, and after you found out you glared at him, picked up the child responsible and started going on about how "Lucifer is just grumpy and mean" and they "don't have to listen to him".

• "MC, they need to learn not to play with their food somehow—"

• "Look at their little faces! Just leave them be."

• Warns you repeatedly about how they're going to grow up to be spoiled brats if you keep coddling them like this, but it's up to you if you listen to him or not.

• Also, don't let him fool you. He may not be particularly fond of or good with children, but he's just as weak to their pouting.

"Why are your eyes red?" Lucifer turns his head to look down at the small child before him, who stared right back. "It's weird." Children were always strange to him. His presence struck fear into the hearts of most, but children seemingly lack that sense of self-preservation that adults have, making them a mix of brave and... well, dumb. "I was born that way," he replies simply, and the child nods in understanding. "And you shouldn't call people 'weird'. Would you like it if someone said that about your eyes?" "No." The child shook its head and Lucifer nodded and reached down to pat the kid's hair. "Exactly."

MAMMON

• The week leading up to meeting your family were the most stressful days of his life. Not only were his own nerves acting up, but Lucifer's constant lectures on how to act weren't helping.

• What if MC's family hates him? What if that's a dealbreaker and they can't be together anymore? Will he spend the rest of his life chasing this feeling just to find that there's no-one who will love him like that again as he whittles away his time thinking about how he let the love of his life get away and—

• He overthought it. The kids love him.

• Mammon is actually really good with kids, if not kind of a pushover. Teenagers also tend to like him for the "rebellious vibe" he's got going on, and the fact he's easy to talk to (and make fun of). The only problem is he gives in to anything they want way too easily, and for that reason you two can't be left alone to babysit. Everyone else will come back to find out you bought an entire bouncy house.

• He, unlike Lucifer, totally gets why you coddle your siblings so much. He's prone to doing so himself, mainly with Belphie, and also has literally no perception of how humans age or what level of basic ability they're at. He treats your teenage siblings like toddlers.

• "Shouldn't we cut up her food so she don't choke?"

• "She's 16, Mammon, she can chew."

• Mammon also seems like the type to get straight-up bullied by children. You have absolutely walked in on him having been forced into a "princess tea party" with a fake tiara on and messily-done makeup on his face from your sibling's attempt to doll him up.

• Is the victim of every toddler's rough-housing phase (if you know you know). They literally jump on him and start wailing on him with their tiny baby fists. It's not like he can fight back, they're kids, so he just lays there and screams for help.

• Will later come crying to you about how he got fucking mugged and beaten by a 3 year-old. Is absolutely appalled when you take the kid's side.

• "That little shit took my money!"

• "He's just a baby! He doesn't know what he's doing! And don't swear!"

• Catch him and your sibling glaring at each other whenever they think you're not looking, because the child absolutely acts like an innocent angel whenever you're around, and you buy into it completely. Even if you didn't, you don't have it in you to punish him.

"What ya doin'?" Mammon approaches the kid laying on the floor with their schoolwork scattered on the ground in front of them. They lean to the side so Mammon can take a look at what they're writing. "Huh. Ya can spell yer name already? Nice." They give him a strange look. "...I'm 10." "...Oh." ...MC's boyfriend is weird.

LEVIATHAN

• Levi... uh... doesn't want to be here.

• It's not that he doesn't want to meet your family... well, yeah, that's exactly what it is. He's absolutely convinced they're going to hate him. Why would he leave the safe abode of his room just to go mingle with some normie kids?

• I can't imagine he's very good with children, and teenagers scare him. So, catch him hiding in a dark corner.

• He does like simply watching you go about your day with your family, though. It's an insight into your daily domestic life he never thought he'd get, and it's just really nice to him. He'd never admit he was watching if you confront him about it though.

• But... your tendency to coddle your siblings makes him jealous. Obviously.

• I mean, it's not like he wants to be treated like a child. But they get away with everything. How come his older brothers don't treat him in that overly-affectionate, loving way? Thinking about it, he'd probably hate if they did... But still!

• These stupid kids are taking away your attention, and the way you talk about them like they can do no wrong and remind them how much you love them at every opportunity is making his chest burn with envy. The only reason he isn't summoning Lotan is because it's your house and that would be rude.

• Reassure him that just because you love your siblings doesn't mean you love him any less.

• Also, if any of your siblings are into anime or at least interested in it, he's more likely to come out of his shell a little. He'll discuss any shows they've watched with them (because he's watched literally everything) and give them recommendations. Child-friendly of course.

• Keep him away from any siblings going through a "mean teen" phase. They will make him cry and you will have to talk him down so he doesn't go all demon form crazy on an actual child.

One of the kids in the house makes their way up to Levi, who is slumped back on the couch with his knees up. Levi looks up at the kid, then at his phone, then at the kid and at his phone again. He feels a bead of sweat form. Is this child judging him? "Do you have games on your phone?" They suddenly ask and Levi blinks. Damn, the meme is real. "Uh..." He clears his throat. If he doesn't let the kid play, then they'll hate him. And if the kid hates him... MC will hate him too! "...Y—yeah. You wanna play...?"

SATAN

• So, although I think seeing you treat your siblings with such overbearing affection and love comes as a bit of a culture shock to him, I don't believe he'd be super surprised that some of them have a negative reaction to it.

• He hates baby-talk or being treated like a child to any degree. He'd probably lose it if one of his brothers did something like offering to complete any kind of work for him, because it implies he isn't capable of doing it on his own. There's that scene of him in Nightbringer threatening Lucifer for force-feeding him breakfast when he wouldn't eat, and the text conversation where he tells you he wants to kill Asmo because he's been baby-talking him all day.

• He completely understands your urge to coddle your siblings, but he also understands their frustration in response to it. Will probably try to explain why you should ease up on it a little, but recognises it isn't really his place to decide.

• Kids and teenagers actually probably like him well enough. He has a short temper and isn't the best person to deal with kids when they make a mistake, especially when it's with something he considers second nature by now, but he's the type to talk to kids like they're adults and take the things they say completely seriously.

• Also encourages rebellion in the older kids because he thinks it's funny and relates hard. Probably joins in, actually.

• That being said, they aren't exempt from discipline by him, and he'll absolutely argue against you letting them off so light.

• "They need a time-out, MC."

• "They're just playing! Aren't you?" They both nod and Satan glares down at the little liars.

• "They were hitting each other and nearly broke the TV."

• Little added headcanon: Satan does not need to be forced to partake in kids' tea parties or games. He will do it willingly, but will deny it to the grave if he's walked in on. He gives me girl dad vibes.

The youngest toddler in the house waddles up to Satan with a toy phone in hand, holding it up to her ear to mimic what she's seen the adults around her do. The child then holds the phone out for Satan to take. "Bababa." Satan responds with a nod as if he understood the gibberish perfectly and takes the toy phone from her little hands, holding it up to his ear to take a pretend phone call. "Yes? Yes... mhm, mhm..." He murmurs, then looks down at the little girl before him. "Mm, she says she will not be attending unless there is baby food at this function. No? Okay." With that, he takes the toy away from his ear and holds it back out for the child to take, which she does, followed by another sentence in gibberish. "Banguguu..." "Yes, I handled it."

ASMODEUS

• Lmao he's even worse.

• Asmo is great with kids, but doesn't particularly... like them. I mean, he thinks they're cute and absolutely hosts mini fashion shows with your younger siblings. But he could never take care of one full-time because while they can be adorable, they can also be gross.

• That being said, he too is the overbearing coddler type. Not just with your siblings, but with his own too, even his older brothers. All it takes is them acting a little more affectionate with him than usual for him to fold and give them anything they want. Your own family is no different.

• He had no concerns before meeting your siblings. After all, he's just naturally so loveable — why would he need to be worried? In his mind, your siblings not liking him didn't even register as an option.

• He really didn't need to worry though, because he was right, teens and kids alike do love him. He's the perfect person to share and talk about drama with, as well as doing their makeup and recommending products. And princess tea parties? Playing with dolls? Of course he'll join you, dear!

• I wasn't joking about the mini fashion shows. He goes out, buys a bunch of clothes in your siblings' sizes and has them come with him so they can try all of them on. He takes so many pictures (he's always in the frame though).

• Joins you in being completely unable to discipline your siblings even if they clearly need it. If your younger siblings find your behaviour annoying or frustrating, then Asmo is absolutely intolerable.

• ...Kind of wishes you would coddle him like you do your siblings. I mean, he's clearly cute enough to deserve it!

"And then— get this," Asmo nods at the teen's words and leans forward a little to show his interest. "We found out, nobody could find her because she was sleeping with Jackson's brother." Asmo lets out a dramatic gasp, pausing the nail painting for a moment. "Really? As revenge?" "Yeah, 'cause he cheated first. Apparently she was going to just leave him, but wanted to make it hurt." "Serves him right."

BEELZEBUB

• Another guy who is big on family, and really wanted to make a good impression on your siblings because of it. He worried a little too much over it though, because well... he's Beel. The biggest thing you actually have concerns about is whether he'll raid your entire fridge. You know for a fact your siblings are going to love him.

• Beel is very blunt and straightforward, and so are kids. This works out for him because it results in most kids immediately being fond of him.

• Lets any younger kids hold on to his arms and dangle off of him because he's so tall. Will even give them a piggyback ride just so they can experience what it's like to be over 7 feet tall.

• He also doesn't really react much to how you coddle and fuss over your siblings. He's used to acting a similar way with Belphie, so it's hard to say he notices anything different about the way you treat them. Similar to Mammon, I feel like he also has difficulty keeping track of what humans at different ages are and are not capable of doing.

• Covers the ears of a whole ass 17 year old when he hears any swearing.

• Beel will absolutely ask you for stories about your siblings just so he can hear the way you talk about them. He knows they're probably not innocent little angels like you make them out to be, but there's just so much love in the way you tell stories of when they were younger that he can't help but listen and nod along.

• "There's the handsomest boy in the world!" You coo as you play peekaboo with your baby brother. There's silence from beside you for a moment as the child laughs in delight. You look over and Beel is just... staring at you.

• "...You too, Beel."

• ":)"

"Um, I don't think I can finish this..." He looks up at the child next to him, seeing how they poke at their food. Although the idea of being a picky eater is somewhat foreign to him, he doesn't want to force them to eat something they don't like. "It's fine," he says before covering his mouth when he realised he was talking with his mouth full. "You can give it to me." "Really?" The kid looks up at him and then slides their plate over to him. "Thank you!" Honestly, they're the one doing him a favour...

BELPHEGOR

• ...Does he have to?

• He loves you, he really does. But meeting the family means he'll have to work to keep his attitude, body language and exhaustion in check and it just seems like... a lot of work. Especially if you have a lot of siblings. So much talking.

• Belphie doesn't really like kids, but you know how when you're very young, you tend to gravitate towards the cool, quiet and closed-off relative more? That's essentially what happens here. Your younger siblings adore Belphie for some reason even though it's very clearly not reciprocated.

• As for the coddling aspect... yeah, he's used to it.

• He receives that kind of treatment from most of his brothers and doesn't particularly enjoy it per-se, but as the baby of the family, knows how to use it to his advantage to get extra privileges. When he finds out from watching you and your siblings that "acting cute" works on you as well, expect him to start doing it to get you to clean his room for him.

• On that note, he does also understand the annoyance with it. He also hates things like babytalk or being coddled constantly, he finds it tiring. He probably won't bring it up like Satan would, though. He doesn't care.

• Insists he doesn't like any of your youngest siblings but you will find him asleep with them curled up on his chest a couple times at least.

• Also a victim of toddler rough-housing because he's always laying down, so he's an easy target.

"What?" Belphie groans as a pair of tiny toddler hands repeatedly pat his face to get his attention. Finally opening his eyes, he's met with the evillest grin he's ever seen on a kid this young, followed by the little shit grabbing a chunk of his hair and yanking it. "Ow..." Belphie huffs and tilts his head away, holding the toddler back with one hand. "...You're lucky MC loves you," he mutters, then glares at the child when they immediately follow up with a slap to his arm, as if they heard him. "Stop it." The kid then manages to shuffle onto the couch, now trying to climb on top of Belphie to continue beating him. It doesn't hurt, but it's a hassle. "MC..." He calls, too tired to deal with this. "Come get your baby. I'm trying to sleep..." "They're not my babies, Belphie..."

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#om! swd #om! shall we date #honestly not too proud of this one ;-;

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willowsnook · 9 months ago

Note

Can I get a Carlos one where they lowkey hate each other bc they constantly fight on track but there’s a bunch of tension between them. Maybe something happens on track and afterwards she goes to bitch him out and then he just kisses her or something ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

yesss just a little different

carlos sainz x williams driver reader

-----------------------------------------------------

You had been nervous when you joined the grid a year ago as the first female driver but everyone had been pretty welcoming and treated you the same as the rest of the competition. You honestly were glad to join Williams because it was a lot less pressure on you than it was for your friends Oscar and Kimi at McLaren and Mercedes. Last season you had finished 12th in the drivers standings which was pretty good in your opinion. This year had been a lot different thanks to the new arrival of Carlos Sainz.

He didn't want to be here, that was very clear. Honestly you didn't blame him, with his record he should have been in a top car but when the 8 time world champion comes knocking...what can ya do?

It seemed like he definitely expected to easily be driver #1 and to be treated as such. Most people probably shared that same opinion but you didn't. You weren't going to be a supporting actor in this kind of cut throat sport. Things had started cordial in the offseason with the two of you doing a lot of PR together but you just didn't really have that same bond that you did with your former teammate Alex. It only got worse from there.

First race of the 2025 season, you had out-qualified Carlos heading into race number one sitting P8 while he was behind at P12. He was not pleased. While everyone congratulated you after your run, he stood in the garage with his arms crossed, anger radiating off of him. This escalated the next day to him trying to overtake you resulting in both of you spinning out into the barriers. Instead of jumping out of the car and heading back to the paddock like a good girl, you stormed over to him as he was getting out of his car.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You yelled, pulling off your helmet.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?" He yelled back glaring up at you. "You are supposed to let me pass?" You scoffed.

"Oh I'm sorry, I forgot who I was talking to," you retorted. "I'm so sorry Mr. Sainz I forgot that I have to let you win even though I'm faster and you're washed."

He stomped over from his car putting his finger in your face.

"Watch your fucking tone," he said angrily.

"Or what?" You spit back. The two of you spun around and barged back towards the garage.

As you headed into summer break, the two of you had crashed into each other three more times with probably equal blame in total. It was a disaster for team points and a PR nightmare. At this point they couldn't even get the two of you in the same room without it ending up in you trying to bite each others heads off. You had fun with it though, because by now you knew all the Spainard's tells. Like how he clenched his jaw when he was starting to get annoyed, or fisting his hands when you were close to pushing him over the edge. It's like the two of you were magnets, you'd always find each other no matter how hard the team tried to keep you separate.

---------- Last week of summer break------------

You were lounging by the pool with Oscar and his gf Lily at an airbnb in Australia trying to enjoy your last couple of days of freedom before having to be back.

"Have you talked to Carlos at all this break?" Oscar asked nonchalantly and you saw Lily shoot him a look.

"Why would I waste my precious breath?" You replied not even looking up from your book. Oscar sighed.

"Don't you think you guys should fix whatever this thing is that's going on?

"He's the one that fucking started it," you hissed shooting him a glare. He put his hands up in surrender.

"It's just like I've gotten to know him, and he's a great guy," he said. "I feel like you guys could be friends if you just sat and talked like normal people."

"I think that is literally impossible," you said. "We can't go longer than 2 minutes without him swiping at me."

"Hmm, and do you think he's unprovoked?" Oscar asked and Lily laughed. You flipped both of them off.

"Look, I tried to be nice at first but it's kind of hard when he came in and just expected me to roll over because he's been racing longer," you admitted. "It was offensive and things just went from there."

"I know how he came in was wrong," he said. "But I think you should give him some grace looking at it from his perspective. He should be in a faster car, we both know that. So it was insulting for him to have to come to Williams but that has nothing to do with you." You sighed, knowing he was half right.

"I don't know how to fix it Oscar, I really don't."

---------Dutch Grand Prix--------------

Things had been going well in Zandort so far, you and Carlos had been mostly avoiding each other and when you were together you kept it civil. You'd had good free practices and now were gearing up for qualifying.

You'd easily sped into Q2 and then jut inched by Fernando to make it into the top ten. The car felt good and you were feeling pretty confident you could get even faster in the last session. You were flying on your fast lap, on track to make it to P5 but heading into the corner you could see another car not getting out of the way. Of course it was none other than your teammate. He moved away but it was a little too late as you already had to slow down to swerve around him, losing time.

"What the fuck is he doing?" you screamed into the radio.

"Uhh he said he didn't see you coming, sorry y/n." Your engineer replied to you and you slammed your fist into the steering wheel. You managed to get one more lap in but the loss of focus put you in P9.

You didn't say a word to anyone getting out of the car and the garage was tense, a lot of engineers shooting you sympathetic looks. You stormed off towards your driver room and were a step away before you heard him call your name.

"Y/n," Carlos called out and you turned to see him walking towards yo you down the hallway. Instead of your rage boiling over you felt your eyes fill up with tears as you just felt defeated. You put your hand up to stop him from getting any closer.

"I just don't understand why you hate me so much," you yelled, your voice breaking. "Do you know how hard it was for me to get here? How hard it is to listen to the media constantly tell me I'm here because having a female driver is good PR? I have worked so hard for everything just for you to try time and time again to take it all away."

Tears were starting to leak from your eyes as you shouted and Carlos's eyes were wide with panic. He tried to take another step towards you but you moved back.

"No, I don't want to see you and I don't want to talk to you," you got out before turning and slamming your driver's door in his face. You sunk down to the floor crying and heard a loud bang, as if someone had punched a wall.

You laid in your driver's room for what felt like forever just staring at your ceiling before changing into a pair of sweats and a tank top. As you were collecting your stuff you heard someone knock on your door and open it. You looked over to see Kimi's sympathetic face which caused your eyes to water again. He opened his arms and you walked into them burying your head in his shoulder.

"Come on, let's go get dinner," he said leading you out of the garage.

You spent the rest of the night hanging out with him and his friends before heading back to the hotel to get a good night rest. You stepped out of the elevator onto your floor and saw someone standing by your hotel room. As you got closer you could see it was Carlos. He had changed too into a pair of Williams sweats and a tight fitted tshirt. His right hand was wrapped up with gauze, explaining the noise you heard earlier.

"Here to rub more salt in the wound?" You joked weakly as you came closer to him. His head snapped up and his raked over you getting sadder.

"No, I came to apologize," he said and you rolled your eyes motioning for him to move so you could unlock your door.

"What did PR promise you in order to get you here?" You bit back as you stepped inside, him following close behind.

"Nothing y/n, we need to talk," he said his tone more firm.

"Well I don't really feel like talking," you said turning to him, throwing your hands up. "Now why don't you go back to James and figure out how to get me off the team, I'm sure whatever plan you have will work."

His jaw clenched and you knew that one landed. You should have stopped there but something about him brought out the fight in you.

"I'm sorry that you're washed and the only way for you to beat me is by taking me out," you started, not even believing what you were saying, just wanting to hurt him like he did you. "That's the only apology I want to hear from you." Carlos took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair.

"Or maybe you should go back begging to Mercedes to get a seat to get away from me."

"Do you ever shut the fuck up?" He asked glaring at me and I crossed my arms.

"Make me," you replied daring him.

Within two seconds your back was against the wall and his lips were on yours. When your brain turned back on you found yourself wrapping a hand around his neck pulling you closer. Your lips fought for dominance but you both were clinging together like you could never let go. Your other hand was tangled in his hair as you slightly pulled causing him to groan into you. He pulled away, resting his forehead on yours and you brought your fingers up to touch your swollen lips.

"If I knew that was how I could get you to stop talking I would have done that a long time ago," he said smirking and you shoved him off.

"You caught me in a moment of weakness," you grumbled before flopping onto the bed. He came over to where you were and pulled you up so that you were facing him as he towered over you. His eyes softened as he looked down at you.

"You are a good driver, one of the best I've ever raced again," he started and you stayed quiet. "I should have came in as a leader to make the both of us better and this a competitive team. Instead I was too wrapped up in how I got burned and acted like an ass. It should have never gotten this far and I'm sorry."

You didn't know what to say as you'd never really seen this side of him. He pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear as he met your eyes again, waiting for a response.

"Was that a real answer or a PR one?" You joked with a small smile causing him to relax.

"A PR one cariño, the real answer is that you're too hot when you're mad at me so I couldn't stop," he said and you laughed. He pulled you off the bed and you wrapped your arms around him.

"This is so weird," you said. "I'm so used to hating you."

"I know, but we got to go be seen in public as friends," he said. "That's an actual request from the PR team."

"Yeah yeah, you can buy me ice cream and I'll forgive you for today," you said heading to the door.

"And then we can start over?" He said hopefully.

"If you let me pass tomorrow too," you said smirking at him. He kissed your forehead as he passed you holding his hand out.

"Not a chance."

#carlos sainz x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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iratempestatis · 19 days ago

Text

So for the longest time I've had this au in my head in which like. The adepti all get frustrated about Xiao working himself slowly but surely to death and try to contrive various plans to get him to gradually stop, but as subtly as they can because they're afraid that if he finds out he won't speak to them for the next hundred years. Getting him to ignore his duties- which truth be told aren't even his duties anymore, since his contract is now null- would take some very precise and delicate engineering. Xiao's sense of self worth depends on it- he thinks he's only worth anything if he devotes himself to being the spear that protects Liyue, after all.

So they all try various methods. Houzhang and Jiehu take him camping and kite flying in the mountains of Jueyun Karst. He enjoys the hike somewhat but gets sick of the kite flying after a few hours- it's not the most stimulating activity once the kite is far enough in the sky that you know it won't drop. He leaves.

They ask Fujin for help. She requests him to scour Chenyu Vale to see if there's any Spirit Carps that haven't yet been found and retrieved. After all, the only way he'd stop protecting his people is by helping someone else. This is a terrible idea because now he's running amok slaughtering monsters in Chenyu Vale and ruining Lingyuan's naps.

Xianyun tries to ask his help. They make all sorts of silly inventions together. Xiao soon realises making just one contraption takes several prototypes, grows impatient and bids her a cordial but firm farewell. He hasn't checked Guyun Stone forest in a while, after all. He's horrified to see the sheer number of Hilichurls and the elaborate colony they've made. He kills them all.

They turn to Ping for help. She tries to engage him in pottery. He tries, likes it, feels guilt for wasting his time playing with clay whilst there's likely some poor sod out there in need of his help and leaves in the night with a cordial farewell. Yaoyao asks if he could stay just a little longer. She wants to spar with him! And they could play badminton together! He almost does stay. Almost.

Finally it's Zhongli who speaks with him- and Xiao can hardly say no to the lord who granted him this life to begin with. He hears Zhongli out. Zhongli is careful with his words. He addresses Xiao as his dear friend. He doesn't want Xiao to feel as though this is an order to be obeyed- but rather a request to please consider.

Xiao hears him out. About how everyone is concerned for his health. The adepti are all finding their place among the mortals. Why not give it a try? Surely you can serve the mortals in a less strenuous way. Perhaps you could help Herblord run her pharmacy? With a faux identity, of course.

Xiao hesitates, but agrees. Perhaps this way he could also keep a closer eye on Baizhu. Ensure his pursuit of immortality doesn't end up harming him.

Rambler speaks with Changsheng. She agrees, with much delight. She tells everyone who works there- we're getting a new errand boy! Gui celebrates. Reader sighs- Gui never wants to work. Qiqi worries about forgetting his name, then forgets what she worried about to begin with when Baizhu sets a glass of coconut milk before her. Baizhu is apprehensive. He cares about Xiao dearly, but it's going to make this whole immortality thing a lot harder...

When Xiao finally descends upon Bubu pharmacy's doorstep early in the morning on a frightfully bright Monday, Reader is mostly just surprised to see the kid they told off some months ago for "chasing Hilichurls across the marsh in these ridiculous clothes! Did you steal your father's sleeves? Where are your parents? It's nine in the evening! By the archons, go home! Where do you live? Qingce Village? How have I never seen you before-"

"I am not a child!"

#xiao x reader #should i tag literally everyone else who i mentioned on this post #it feels like a long list and almost like crostagging even though it's not #it'd make it easier for me to find the post but #i feel guilty so I'll just.#bubu pharmacy au #genshin x reader #genshin xiao #xisk #xiso #i can slell i swear #xiao #yes #look at me slell :3 #grabs you

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kurokawaia · 1 year ago

Text

❛ Enemies to lovers ❜

Uchiha Sasuke X Fem!Reader

| SFW | REQUEST? yes | ! headcanons !

WC; 1.6k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; sasuke is a trigger warning by himself, not anything suggestive but sasuke is mean guys bsf. Prerouge!Sasuke X fem!Reader & Rouge!Sasuke X fem!Reader

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: @bejeweledgirl - Hiiii!! Could you please write Sasuke x reader enemies to lovers head canons? Thank you !!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

a/note :: also, Julie, by any chance do we follow each other on wattpad, or am i tweaking? but other than that, i hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

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Konoha path (before he leaves the village - meeting him in Konoha)

Well, if we are talking about how you two meet in Konoha, it will have to start back at the Academy. Sasuke just hated you for no absolute reason, but then he grew a reason—he thought you were weak and a nuisance. He thinks that you shouldn't even belong in the Academy. Fact is, you are quite strong, but he refuses to see that because he already set his mind that you are below him.

It all started when you two were put into the same team—Team 7—and then that just made him realize your abilities weren't that useless after all. But he still believed you were weak, with no business to be a ninja. This had you start to hate him, too. You started hating his cold demeanor, how avenging his clan and getting stronger seemed to be his whole personality.

But for all your mutual agrender, at times you just so happened to glimpses of his competence and prowess that forced a value to admire. On the field, you two would watch other back without being asked which in itself was a wordless testament to the amount of confidence one possessed in other. But you two would go back to silently hating each other after those moments, Sasuke being more open about it now.

Sasuke's thoughts: 'I have to keep an eye on her because she's too weak to be left on her own devices.' You're: 'I don't get it, really; why does he think I am so weak? Maybe I've got to show my teamwork up a little better.'

Those moments, when they came, made you wonder if all that hatred ran so deep. You are almost cordial with each other during fights, but that's not it. It's the both of yours mentality that has you seeking each other out during battle, protecting each other subconsciously. But that icy wall that stands between you refuses to thaw a single degree outside of combat.

However, in the time he is there, you notice the way his gaze lingered on you, post-battle, just a little longer than appropriate, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes when he thought nobody else was watching.

He had one mission where he had to react out of the ordinary, to ensure that your weak ass wasn't getting hurt. The straw that broke the camel's back was during one particularly tough mission. With nowhere else to go and severely outnumbered, you took a terrible injury. Sasuke's reaction was instant, and his protective instincts overpowered his usual detachment.

Fight with an emotion you had never seen, he puts your safety before his own and then after he bets himself with the mission. Sasuke had wasted precious time to save you during a mission? Impossible. Unconsciously, he knew you were weak and helped you before you got killed.

You obviously thought you were going to die.

Ever since, the dynamics between the two of you had changed. Sasuke, still aloof, started to look for you during training sessions, though his form of critique was of a lesser degree—more constructive than hurtful. At some occasions, he would even ask you for some help, but he was obviously abrasive about it.

The banter was aggressive in the beginning, but now it was tinged with the undertow of mutual respect, and both you and Sasuke started to look forward to these moments. The trust was not strong, for both took it as something fickle—a bridge that connected the gap between enemies and allies.

You found out more about Sasuke's character than the one he usually let out as you guys spent more time together: his dry sense of humor; the way his eyes softened whenever he deemed necessary to mention something about the past, be it ill or good; his unwavering determination to protect those he held dear.

Your relationship shifted irreversibly; the sharp enmity that earlier defined your interactions was replaced by a deep, wordless fellowship. You realized how thin that border between enemies and lovers can be, and that the most profound relationships often come about in the crucible of quiet understanding and shared struggles.

It was more or less this that almost drove Sasuke out from the village, and at the end of it all, what had begun as hating for each other soon developed into something much larger than life itself.

Your relation toward Sasuke was the way to understand this and to acceptance. You hadn't made your best effort to drag him back to the village, didn't shed any tears because this is what Sasuke really wanted, you were going to acknowledge.

Right there and then when you spoke on how you felt he swore something heating grew inside of him. You weren't going to be mad at him, not yell at him for his decision.

Rouge Ninja path (after he left the village - meeting him while he's a rouge)

You met Uchiha Sasuke under the worst of circumstances. Just allied with Orochimaru, your mission was to keep an eye on him, work just as dangerous as it was interesting to you. Sasuke, brooding and standoffish, made it clear he hated every moment of your company.

To him, you were a shadow unwanted, a living reminder of all his failures and entanglements. You found some strange fun in needling at him, maybe to cover up your own insecurities. Very soon, you could see his gorge rise at your constant presence.

From that very moment, when you met, there was electric tension between the two of you. It smoldered in his narrowed eyes whenever you entered a room and tightened into a set jaw when you spoke.

"You're in my way," he would growl, with a hint of venom in his tone. Yet you never backed off. If anything, you pushed harder, finding glee in the cracks of his iced exterior. "Is that so, Sasuke? Or do you just hate that I'm not afraid of you?"

Every mission together was a war of minds. You were good, obviously so, and it got on Sasuke's nerves. He couldn't stand the way you apparently predicted his moves, the way you pushed him. But more than that, he hated how your presence made him feel: torn apart.

But part of him had begrudged your strength and wit, even if he would never say it out loud. You could feel it in the way his eyes flickered with something almost like appreciation when you pulled off a flawless jutsu or handled some tricky situation deftly.

Despite the undercurrent of tension, there were moments when camaraderie would surprisingly reveal itself. One evening, after a really tough training session, you found yourselves sitting next to each other and watching the sunset.

The silence was comfortable, which was rare between the two of you.

"Why did you come to Orochimaru's side?" Sasuke asked abruptly, his voice softer than usual. You turned to him with surprise at the question. "I have my reasons," you said mysteriously, looking out toward the horizon. "Just like you."

Something shifted in you both the first time you were ambushed during a particularly brutal mission. Outnumbered, you found yourselves fighting for survival, quite literally, with your backs to each other. And something in you both shifted in that instant. You both were no longer enemies but reluctant allies.

Your synchronicity was perfect—an unsaid understanding that passed between you. As the dust settled and the enemies lay defeated, you turned to him, breathless and bruised. "Not bad, Sasuke," you said, a real smile breaking through your usual facade. For a split second, you thought you saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward.

You became less aggressive toward one another from that time forward, and begrudging respect replaced the hostility. Sasuke still rolled his eyes at your antics, but you began to notice how his gaze now lingered a little longer, the way he sometimes sought out your opinion. The walls he built around himself were high, but he found satisfaction in every small crack you could create.

And Sasuke, though he'd never say it aloud, looked forward to your company, your banter, and your presence.

There would come times when the barrier between you seemed impossible to breach. The memories of his clan, his brother, and the darkness he had covered himself with to amass power would have him closing off. You understood pain and loss, having your share of the scars, and sometimes in those rare quiet moments, you shared bits of your past with him. He listened, not always responding, but you knew that he'd heard you. And it was in those moments that the chasm between you seemed a little to narrow.

It was on one of those quiet evenings, both of you resting by the campfire, that the tension broke. You were teasing him about his brooding nature; he snapped, grabbing your wrist and pulling you close.

"Why do you always have to annoy me?" he growled, his voice low and heavy with restraint. You held his gaze, your heart pounding. "Maybe because I see something in you that you refuse to see in yourself," you whispered. His grip tightened a fraction before loosening, his expression unreadable.

For an instant, the space between you disappeared. Sasuke's hold relaxed, his eyes questing yours. And then, the next thing you knew, his lips were on yours, hard, demanding. A kiss riddled with that pent-up frustration, anger, and undeniable attraction that was building up between the two of you. The moment you both pulled back, out of breath, your gaze locked in with his, and the anger or annoyance that swam there previously was replaced with something deeper—something that you both had been denying for far too long.

The following days were emotional ones. You and Sasuke continued training and taking up missions, but now there is a new layer in your relationship with each other. The stolen glances, subtle touches, occasional tender moments when one thought nobody else was looking.

Sasuke began to realize that life offers more than vengeance and power—companionship, trust, maybe even love.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

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