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lazyjellyfish300 · 3 months

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The Woman He Didn't Choose part 2🥀

AU Bachelor!Miguel O'Hara x Fem contestant Reader

Synopsis: the aftermath of the show as you and Miguel move on(sort of). The first part is mostly from his POV then transitions into your experience on the spinoff show- Singles in Paradise where you have a second shot at finding love. Word count: 6k

A/N: Sorry to any Xina fans, I made her OOC and quite mean in this one. I haven't read the comics but from what I've heard of her and seen so far she's one of the canon love interests I like the most. (Even tho I shamelessly self ship with Miguel lolol bc as far as I know ATSV Miguel is separate from comic Miguel Soo until we hear otherwise I'm gonna be delulu.)

Also, I am sorry if any of the couple pairings in this part bother you, it's purely for the purpose of the plot since we're supposed to be on another dating show and I am too lazy to create a bunch of OCs. If you're unfamiliar with the show Bachelor in Paradise, here's a clip to give you an idea. Basically, it's another dating show usually in a tropical location where single people couple up, and new arrivals come in every so often and ask people on dates to shake things up, leading to drama and chaos, and couples can choose to stay together or break up in the end and there's typically an engagement. DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NO RIGHTS TO THE SHOWS THE BACHELOR OR BACHELOR IN PARADISE, ALL RIGHTS TO THE OWNERS. I CHANGED THE NAME OF THE SHOW IN THE STORY.

TW: MINORS DNI, ANGST, RACIAL MICROAGGRESSIONS ABOUT ESL AND FAMILY STRUCTURE(IF THAT'S SENSITIVE FOR YOU PLEASE SKIP ❤️) EMOTIONAL ABUSE, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, ALCOHOL ,DOWNPLAYING MENTAL HEALTH STRUGGLES, LITTLE BIT OF EMOTIONAL CHEATING ON MIGUEL'S PART, STRUGGLES WITH RELIGION AND FAITH, MENTION BULLYING AND FAMILY STRUGGLES, BREAK-UP, FANTASIZING, JEALOUSY, INSECURITY, CLASSISM, MODERATE SMUT(P IN V BUT IT'S ONLY MENTIONED NOT FULLY DETAILED, THESE ONES ARE DETAILED: DRY HUMPING, HEAVY MAKING OUT, AND FINGERING. ALSO, VOYEURISM-ISH)

(couple pairings are Ben Reilly and Felicia Hardy, Jessica Drew and Noir, George Stacey and MJ, Xina Kwan and Miguel O'Hara, not saying anything else bc spoilers)

Part 1 , Part 3

@miguelhugger2099, @kodo1221,@mimiemie, @laysmt, @cheerrioeoz , @spicydonut25 , @thisistotesnotspam-heart , @thekidscallmebosss , @librababe99 , @ce3stvu @irishbl0ss0mz @nommingonfood , @mauvecherie-writes , @royale-skeleton-key , @famouscattale

I'm so sorry if I forgot you in the tags , just lmk

------

"Miguel!"

Miguel looks up abruptly from a spot on the floor he was zoning out on to look at Xina's slightly annoyed expression. "Hydrangeas or peonies for the guest tables, babe?" she repeats, standing next to the sample table where the wedding planner and florist awaited with anxious eyes.

Miguel blinks rapidly. "It doesn't matter to me, baby...um...." he points to the peony arrangement. "That one."

Xina huffs and turns to look at the planner and florist. "We'll do the hydrangeas."

Miguel smirks and puts his hands in his pockets. "Now, why would you ask me my opinion if you're going to just pick the one you wanted?"

Xina's annoyed look softens subtly but she shakes her head. "It's mostly the bride's day, you know. You're just supposed to show up."

Miguel smiles. "Well, I guess you don't need me to come to the wedding planning dinner tonight? Since you seem to have it all handled?"

Xina groans. "Miguel! You said you'd be there! Have you even read through Exodus like I asked you to?"

Miguel feels his cheeks burn. "Shit...um, no..."

Xina shoots a glare at the wedding planner and the florist and makes a shooing motion with her hand. They both put their heads down and quickly leave the room, giving them privacy. Miguel adjusts his tie, a little bit thrown off by her dismissive actions towards the staff.

Xina sits down at the table and pours herself a glass of ice water. She takes a long sip and sighs, looking at Miguel. "Babe...," she says in a low voice. "You know that getting married in the church is a top priority for me. You know what it means to me..."

Miguel's eyebrows knit together with worry. "I know it is..." he rapidly crosses the room to join her and kneels in front of her, hands on her thighs. She squirms away from him a little and purses her lips, looking down.

"Promise me you'll catch up on your Bible reading by next week and set up an appointment with the missionaries?"

Miguel hesitates for just a fraction of a second in his mind but he answers her, almost a little too quickly, "Of course I will."

Xina manages to give him a little smile, fiddling with the top button on his shirt. "Love you..."

"Love you too."

---

Later that evening, Xina and Miguel are sitting next to each other at a large, circular, oak table across from her parents, eating dinner in their mansion of a home.

Xina's mother makes a face when she takes a bite of the salmon.

"Something wrong with it, hun?" Xina's father asks, dishing himself some potatoes.

Xina's mother spits the bite into a napkin. "Rex!" She barks. An older, balding man with a kind face and chef's uniform enters the dining room. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Salmon's not up to par, I'm afraid." She pushes the dish towards the puzzled chef.

"M' sorry ma'am. Can I make you anything else you'd like instea-"

She cuts him off. "No, my appetite's ruined. That's all, Rex."

The chef looks down in shame at the dish he worked hard on, picking it up with shaky hands and shuffling quickly out of the dining room.

Miguel tightens his grip on his fork and shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. He had not seen this side of Xina's parents. But, it was only their third time meeting, so he did his best to concentrate on who he was really there for, Xina. He took another bite of his roast beef.

Once the old man was out of earshot, Xina's mother tuts her teeth. "Sorry, he's insufferable... I don't know what we'll do with him.... is your roast beef even edible, dear?" She asks Miguel.

Miguel inhales slowly, trying to stifle his outrage on the chef's behalf but Xina's father cuts in.

"So, Miguel," Xina's father says, breaking the silence. "Your folks are planning on driving down on the... 25th, right? For the rehearsal dinner?"

Miguel nods, blotting his lips with a cloth napkin. "Yes, sir."

"Remind me who's coming?" He asks, pouring a generous helping of gravy on his potatoes.

Miguel clears his throat. "My younger brother, Gabe, and my mother-"

"Right, your father's not in your life." Xina's father says, waving his fork.

Miguel's lips fall open and he blinks in disbelief at the abruptness of his statement. I mean, he wasn't lying, per se. Miguel took a sip of his wine, trying to chalk it up to just him not choosing his words carefully, that's all.

"Right, he's not..." Miguel says, straightening in his chair.

Xina's mother pipes up, "You know, that's really such an inspiration on your part. Most people like you with your background end up on the streets, or worse."

Miguel abruptly stops cutting his meat, first looking at Xina's mother, who sat with a smile on her face looking at him, to her husband, who was too occupied with his potatoes to even care, to Xina who was just looking at her lap, clearly a little embarrassed at her comment, but stayed silent.

It got worse. She continues, "... wouldn't even guess that English isn't your first language. You're so well spoken for someone like you."

At that point, Miguel is so uncomfortable that he stands up abruptly, removing his napkin from his lap and setting it next to his wine glass.

"...if you'll excuse me..." he briskly walks out, making sure to close the front door a little extra loudly than he normally would.

Miguel paces in the driveway, taking deep breaths. He exhales a little bit when he sees Xina, but he's met with a different reaction than he was expecting.

"What the hell are you doing?" she hisses, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her stomach.

Miguel's face contorts in confusion, "Babe..that comment your mom made-"

"It's just how she is, Miguel!" Xina says, her annoyance starting to make itself apparent as her face comes into view.

Miguel is now even more confused.

"Just come back inside, please?" Xina looks around, hoping none of the neighbors were witnessing their spat.

Miguel takes a step back, his face hurt. "Xi...what's got into you...?"

"Look, I'm sorry that she said it, okay? But that's just how she is. She doesn't have a filter. Old people are just like that. Now she's upset because you stormed out."

Miguel becomes angry now. "Babe. I understand your parents are from a different generation and your mom has a certain way of... communicating." He sighs. "But what she said was kind of racist. I felt extremely uncomfortable."

Xina looks up at the sky in utter aggravation, "Okay! Fine! You're right! It was totally racist, okay? Happy? I'll talk to her about it later, but I really don't wanna fight anymore about this. We're supposed to walk down the aisle in three and a half weeks. They're just stressed because they're not only hosting my family, they're hosting yours too. I'm stressed, you're stressed. We all are..."

Miguel takes a deep breath. Now he's second guessing himself and his feelings. Did he overreact? The last thing he wanted was for them to dislike him. They were his future in-laws after all. Even though Miguel is hurt she won't defend him and is downplaying his feelings, he decides to shove them aside for her sake. Miguel looks down at her, taking her waist in his hands. She flinches a little and tries to pull back at first, but remains where she's standing when he holds her a little tighter.

"I'm sorry...okay? I'm sorry for being an ass..." Miguel can't help but feel a little odd that he's the one apologizing, but he continues. "Let's go back inside, yeah? Maybe we can go on a date this Friday, just to get away from all this wedding planning stuff."

Xina gives him a half smile and takes his hand in hers. "Deal..."

----

Later that night as Miguel showered in his shared apartment with Xina, he kept replaying their fight over and over again. He didn't know what it was, but lately, Xina was showing a very different side of herself. One that was completely the opposite of the soft spoken sweetheart he fell in love with when the cameras were rolling

He knew that she was religious when he proposed, but had the impression she was more of an Easter and Christmas-only attendee. Her devoutness amped up shortly after their engagement. Her pressure for him accept Jesus and get baptized so they could be married in her church started making him realize he bit off a little more than he could chew.

He felt a phony when she'd ask him to pray over meals and when he'd be called on to read a passage in Sunday School, like he wasn't supposed to be there. His scientific-inclined brain clashed with the idea of a magical being in the sky who would send him to Hell if he touched himself.

Furthermore, Xina demonstrated that she could be quite insensitive to his feelings, and he couldn't unsee the way his future in-laws poorly treated their chef in front of him, and the casual microaggressions they were throwing out about him and his family.

His whole childhood, he was bullied for his accent and for being one of the kids who would get pulled out of class for extra tutoring because he was so far behind everyone else. He was used to being doubted and constantly faced taunts from his classmates and teachers. Conchata was generally the better parent compared to George, but unfortunately that wasn't saying much.

She put immense pressure on Miguel to do well and excel in everything, constantly shifting the goalposts for the near impossible standards she expected him to reach.

But, he worked his ass off and eventually started reading two grade levels above his current grade and took home placing trophies in Math and Science olympiads. It wasn't long before Ivy League schools set their sights on him, and he went on to be the successful geneticist he was today, even buying Conchata a new house despite their volatile relationship.

Throughout it all, he never felt ashamed of where he came from, or his heritage. Nevertheless, it was something he was still was VERY sensitive about and he told Xina about it many times which is why it stung when she couldn't defend him. He even told you about it.

Oh God....you. This was the first time in a while that he finally allowed his mind to dwell on you for longer than a minute. He remembered how receptive you were when he told you. For once, he didn't hear a, "well at least you have it better than most", or a "cheer up, it's not so bad," when he explained his life story. Instead, you listened carefully with a soft look in your eyes and one of your hands resting on top of his, letting him know that the way he felt was completely valid. Something he didn't realize could be so healing when he heard you say that in that moment.

On top of that, your family was so...kind. Your mom even went out of her way to whip up an extra loaf of banana bread just for him when she caught wind that it was his favorite. Your siblings treated him like he was just another member of the family and it was a little unreal how seamlessly he got along with all of them. And, he distinctly remembered how gracious every single one of them were to the restaurant staff when you all went to lunch, with no awkward, demeaning energy like Xina's parents unfortunately demonstrated at dinner tonight. The cameras must have kept them on their best behavior until their true selves could come out once they turned off.

He's about to do something he knows he shouldn't, but he can't resist. He unblocks you on Instagram. (He has only one post on his own account and it's from when he was announced as The Eligible Suitor, the show forced him to create one for publicity's sake, he actually loathes social media in all forms).

And there you were, smiling with your friends at brunch. Another one of you showing off your new dog you rescued from the shelter named Hamilton, and your gorgeous headshot of you in a swimming suit for your debut on Singles in Paradise, where you and other rejected candidates from the show were all going to go at it in a fancy beach resort in Mexico.

Man, you looked good, curves on full display. The smile that he fell in love with was spread across your lovely face. The same one he was responsible for erasing when he broke your heart with less than 10 words on a tranquil beach in Thailand months earlier.

Now, you seemed happier. Trying to carry on with life as though he was never there. Like he didn't haunt your dreams and the sound of his name didn't cause the sting of a thousand burns to scorch through your body. Like you were never the first girl he ever spilled his cum into during that sexy night in the Fairytale Suites, remnants of him imprinted somewhere deep inside you.

Xina climbs into bed next to him and he closes out of Instagram immediately, ashamed that he let his mind wander. Her hand wanders down to his cock and it's not long until he's pounding into her. His mind struggles desperately to fight off the memory of the way your lips parted in ecstasy the whole time she's underneath him.

-----

A few days later

"What the fuck, Miguel?!" Xina screams at him over the phone. Miguel holds the phone away from his ear for a moment, the sound too harsh against his eardrum. She was upset at him this time for his interview on a morning talk show, promoting their upcoming wedding which was supposed to be aired live as the show's long awaited special before Singles in Paradise made its debut.

The host smiled and leaned on her elbow.

"Now, Miguel. Eligible Suitor's number one fan blog is releasing rumors that you only chose Xina because she was the safer option compared to y/n, the season's edgier "bad girl". Is there some truth to that statement, or can you elaborate on that?

Miguel nods slowly, a little bit of panic settling in on the inside, wondering how the hell the fan pages were eerily accurate, despite him not giving away any hints about his internal struggles regarding his engagement to the press that he was aware of.

"Well, as the man chosen to be the Eligible Suitor, there are certain expectations for me and who I ultimately end up with...Xina fit in well with my family. She had all the qualities of the ideal partner. Overall, it just seemed to be a better match..."

"But you're making it sound like if say, y/n for example had all of that, would you have picked her instead?"

Miguel hesitates, turning a little red. He wasn't good at lying. "Well, I mean..."

Awkward silence that lasts a little too long.

He quickly tries to recover but he ends up making it worse, "I mean, what's done is done. There's not really a point in wondering about that, you know....? We-we're very excited for the wedding..."

It wasn't longer than a minute after the show cut to commercial that his phone was ringing off the hook.

"Tell me right now that you love me, and not her, or I swear to God, Miguel I will call off this whole thing!" She says through tears.

Miguel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Now he really felt like a jerk.

"I do love you baby..."

Xina is still distraught and doesn't seem to want to listen. "After everything we've been through. I've supported you. I got along with your mom, I got an apartment with you. I even supported you through all that mental health bullshit of yours and you still can't even defend me on live television and say you love me more than that broke piece of trash!"

Miguel freezes. "Hold on, mental health bullshit....?" Miguel really hopes that he didn't just hear what he thought he heard. He does his best to keep his anger at bay but he can feel it rising anyway. "So, all of the internal struggles I trusted you enough to tell you about....my depression which is something that will ALWAYS be a part of me, Xina...you think it's bullshit?"

Xina sputters, "Miguel, no, I didn't mean it like that. It's just...ugh you are just so hard to deal with sometimes, you know? I totally understand and respect the fact that you're going through a lot right now, but so am I. And I can't sit here and coddle you through everything if you don't get help."

Miguel's world comes shattering down. His worst fear that started to creep into the back of his mind ever since about 2 weeks after he proposed to Xina had just been confirmed to be true: she was not at all the woman he thought she was. It was merely an act for the show, and, with the help of the producers and audience, they pushed him towards her simply because she was the woman they wanted to see him with, when his heart truly lied with you the whole time.

And now, you were on a beach in Mexico probably getting courted by all sorts of men who could give you way more than Miguel ever could, while he was left to contend with a broken heart and a cancelled wedding.

He says in a shaky voice. "I was getting help...I told you I started therapy. I trusted you with THE most sensitive parts of me, Xina. And you threw it in my face. By the way, why do you say y/n is broke trash, as you put it, huh?"

"Miguel, stop putting words in my mouth..."

"Nononono...you LITERALLY said it, Xi. Don't start with your gaslighting bullshit on me!" Miguel is raising his voice now. "You called her broke trash. Let me guess: you shoo away our wedding planners, your parents treat your chef like complete shit. She has less money and prospects than you, therefore she's just trash, right? Well, I came from hardly anything, too. Does that make me trash? Huh?"

There's only silence on the other line, then she says, "Miguel, you're different..."

"No. No, Xina. You're different. You're not who I thought you were, and I think we shouldn't be marrying each other." Hot tears spill down Miguel's face and he hangs up his phone. He presses his back against the wall, sliding down until he hides his face in his hands, sobbing on the floor.

--------

A few weeks later at a beach bungalow resort in Mexico

"Welcome back to another season of: Singles in Paradise, I'm your host, Jason Donner and boy is it good to be back!" Jason beams, flashing his pearly whites at the camera.

You hear your cue and you walk out, clad in a white bikini with a pretty purple coverup wrapped around your midriff with the knot resting on your hip, emphasizing the curve, a certain post-break up glow about you that immediately made you hard to resist, a confident twinkle in your eye. You greet Jason with a hug and he holds your hands in his.

"Great to see you. Feelin' nervous?"

You flash a lovely smile at him, playing it up for the cameras. "Just a little bit. But I'm more so excited than nervous."

Jason's lips curve into a smirk. "Anyone down there on that beach you're hoping to run into?"

Miguel.

No, you hadn't really thought about it. Noir was pretty cute. You throw his name out there. "I hope Noir is down there..."

Jason nods, giving your shoulder a good luck squeeze. "Well, go on down there and see for yourself. Good luck! And welcome to paradise once again."

"Thanks, Jas!" You play it up, giving him a little flirty wink as you walk down the stone path and disappear into some trees, making your way to the beach. Necks turn slowly and you feel your heart pound as several pairs of eyes land on you.

Felicia Hardy is standing at the beach side resort bar waiting on her piña colada with a bad case of RBF. But, her snowy eyes melt into an enthusiastic expression when she sees you.

"Noooo way!!! Oh my GOD, you're even hotter in person! Girl! What!!"

You beam, flattered as she pulls you into a hug. Her long, platinum blonde hair hangs loose from a claw clip with the ponytail flowing in waves that brush against her back, a few stray wisps framing her face. She's wearing a dark blue tube top dress which is doing her figure all types of favors, accentuating her goddess-like pear shape. And, she smells totally divine of coconut body spray, evidence of sunbathing apparent in her sunkissed cheeks and tan lines.

"Holy shit, where'd you get your outfit?" She asks, giving her piña colada a sip, shamelessly eyeing you up from head to toe.

You smile, giving her a little twirl. "Girl, $20 at Marshall's for the whole thing. I swear to God."

"No way! Oh my God, I love that place!" Felicia smiles. "I gotta say I'm a huge fan of you. Dude, that pissed me off so fucking bad when Miguel fucked you over like that."

You smile back at her, flattered. You can tell that you definitely want to have Felicia be your beach bestie throughout this whole process. She had been the Eligible Suitorette about 2 seasons ago. Her tenure was one that went down in the show's history, the way she didn't take any shit, and had so many guys falling all over her. But, unfortunately her engagement to Flash Thompson went down in flames when his dumb ass eventually got caught cheating, making fans of the show rally around her even more.

"So, I guess I should give you the low down on who's coupled up with who so far?" She asks.

You nod, familiar with this part of the game. "Yes, please. Oh my God, tell me everything."

You two go sit down on a pair of beach chairs, turning them so your knees are touching each other, leaning in close together for your woman to woman huddle, the cameras zooming in on you both.

"Okay, so first of all, I'm with Ben." She gleams, biting her lip. You follow her gaze and see Ben shirtless, playing volleyball with some of the other men, his baby blues are locked right back on Felicia with his angelic, pretty boy face. He nods and gives you a polite wave hello.

"Girrrrrrllllll...." You smile, turning back to her. "Good for you, honestly, he is SO damn fine, respectfully of course."

Felicia throws her head back and waves you off with a laugh. "Girl, thank you. No worries at all. Yeah, he's uh, he's something else alright." She bites her lip again and looks down. "He treats me so good. It's going really well..."

You give her a warm look, the unmistakable signs of falling head over heels quite recognizable all over her demeanor and the way she's talking about him.

Felicia resumes her report. "Noir is here, but he's got a thing for Jess."

You feel slightly disappointed to hear that but nod, encouraging her to continue.

"Peter B. is here, but it's been kinda awkward. MJ is here too."

"No fucking way?" You sit up, interested. "They really invited both of them here?"

Peter B. and MJ were considered royalty as far as the show goes, with Peter being one of the most beloved suitors of the show's history. However, that quickly became tainted with scandal with the volatile on-and-off nature of his and MJ's relationship. They got engaged at the end of his season, then they were "taking some time apart", then they reunited, but he was seen in the Barbados with some mysterious brunette, but she was also out and about with no engagement ring. BUT, they were spotted in Chicago holding hands and all over each other in a night club just a month ago

"Yeah girl, I have no fucking clue. They're clearly off at the moment , but you can totally tell it's bugging Peter. She's all over George right now."

"Girl noooo. George Stacy?!"

"George, fucking-Stacy, girlll."

George had troubling political opinions and was known for being quite a douche. BUT he was also well over 6 feet tall with ocean eyes, big arms, and money. Well, for you, personally, no way in hell you'd tolerate that.

"MJ hates me though." Felicia warns.

"Wait, why??"

"She thinks I "stole her man" even though Peter was literally throwing himself at me when they were on break number 394 or some shit." Felicia chuckles, shaking her head, stirring her piña colada which is now becoming a watery slush. She pauses for a moment then looks at you. "So, girl, tell me, who did you have your eyes on coming here?"

"Well..." You sigh, the options so far were not promising. "I did think Noir was cute, but he's already with Jess."

"You could still invite him on a date, technically." Felicia points out. "But, I understand. He does reallyyy seem to be into her right now. It would be hard to try and pull him at this point." She drums her fingers. "Girl! Go for Peter. Oh my God you guys would be so cute!"

You blush internally. Peter? You hadn't given him much thought. You turn around, searching for him. He's standing in the ocean a few feet away up to his ankles. He turns to the side a little, and the wind blows open his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt as he leans down to examine one of the seashells under his feet.

Oh God, he was handsome. 6'2, lean muscles peppered with dark hair that ran across his chest and belly button, and a shadow of stubble on his face gave him a rugged feel, but those chocolate puppy brown eyes made him look so innocent. One of his cheeks had a little dimple that would pop out when he made that signature little smirk of his.

"Fffuck...really, girl?" You murmur, your jaw practically still hanging open at the sight of him. "But I thought you two were a thing?"

Felicia smirks. "Hell no! I rejected him forever ago. You sooo like him! I can tell. Just do it!"

You take a shaky breath. "God...okay, fuck it. I'm gonna go talk to him."

"Good luck!" Felicia calls after you. "Come find me afterwards and tell me everything!!"

You nod and shoot her a smile as you walk away. You bite your lip, your stomach doing all sorts of flips and tricks as you approach Peter. He has sort of a hopeless look on his face as he watches George and MJ from afar cuddled up on their beach towels, George's rough hands rubbing sunscreen into her shoulders as he was practically eye-fucking her.

"Peter!" You call for him. Peter turns, confused at the sound of a woman's voice calling for him, but his pupils go wide when he locks eyes with you for the first time.

"H-Hey!" His lips part a little bit at the sight of your gorgeous hair and friendly smile. His eyes start to land on your figure but he quickly flicks them back upwards to look into yours, not wanting to look like a perv. God, he was so cute. He offers you one of his hands, his voice gentle. "I'm Peter B."

You introduce yourself and he repeats your name back to you. The way he says it is making you scream a little on the inside, his voice is soothing and low. And suddenly you want to know more, so much more about him. And with the way he's gazing down at you, he does too.

You two just stand there in the ocean, chatting as the wind rustles against you both. Soon, the sun is starting to dip further down in the sky and you feel a chill coming on. Peter notices the goosebumps on your arms and wraps his shirt around you, holding you under his arm as you both meander back to the beach.

You squeal when he swoops you into a bridal style carry, butterflies appear in his stomach when he feels your hair brush under his chin, and he's almost tempted to pull you in closer. No, he decides there's plenty of time for that later, if all of this continues to go as flawlessly as it is already. He sets you down on one of the poolside cabanas, spreading a blanket over your legs. You curl up under it, shooting him a smile of appreciation. He looks at you with adoring eyes at how cute you look curled up like that.

"Can I get you something to drink?" He asks gently, the tips of his fingers brushing against your thigh, sending a chill down your spine.

"Um, vodka cranberry, please." You say sweetly. Peter gives you his signature smirk, the little dimple in his cheek driving you wild. His fingers make full contact with your thigh this time, stealing the breath from your lungs.

"Coming right up..." he's off to get you your drink, leaving you internally screaming by the pool.

---

Jason is leaning against a palm tree, silently monitoring the scene of flirtatious couples below when a tall dark figure approaches him. The camera stays on Jason and captures the look of shock across his face.

"Well, well, WELL! Look who it is, great to see you man!"

The man's face isn't shown, and it appears his response is being muted off mic, Jason's voice is the only audible one, the camera focusing on his reactions with the mystery guest,

"Wow...I'm so sorry to hear that man...yeah, yeah she's here. And you're sure about this.....? Alright, well here's your date card, feel free to use it whenever you wish. Good luck down there man."

------

You and Peter are laughing together by the pool, the alcohol slowly starting to weave its way into your banter. The daybed you're sharing is just a smidge too small, forcing your thigh to touch his as you squish on it together, bodies laying side by side. When you ask him a question, you subtly push yours a little closer into his. Peter seems to notice your increasing touch, his train of thought stalling for just one minute, before he turns pink and apologizes. "Sorry, must be the alcohol," he mumbles cutely, looking sheepishly at you.

"Yeah, the alcohol..." you tease, your pointer finger traces his sternum. His breath hitches and he's looking at you with wet lips, his eyes come to rest on your breasts that are squished so deliciously together.

You're looking back at him too, letting your eyes rake over his body up and down, admiring how good he looks and how the faded blue lights from the pool are casting a sensual shadow over his form, wondering how it would look if it were in the darkness of your bedroom instead.

Peter clears his throat. The nervousness catching up to him, and he turns his head, gazing at the shimmering water. "Sorry..." he lets out a breathy chuckle, then turns back to you. "I haven't connected this quickly with someone ever since...well I mean, since my last relationship which ended badly..... As I'm sure you're well aware of thanks to the press."

You hum, your finger now tracing little circles on his shoulder, making him tremble slightly. "Yeah....I heard. I'm kind of in the same boat."

You take a deep sigh. God, just when you thought you were getting over him, Miguel pulls you right back in. Being with Peter right now feels foreign, strange. You can't put a finger on it. You notice that those decadent brown eyes are already fixed on you, and you stare back, your voice oozing a hint of desire as you softly tell him,

"But, I wouldn't mind if I...spent some more time getting to know you."

Peter exhales softly, you detect the sweetness of the liquor on his breath, the wetness that the rim of his glass left behind is shiny on his bottom lip, and all you want to do is taste.

Peter slowly smirks back, his fingers coming to pull under your chin, bringing your face closer to his.

"I wouldn't mind either..." lust codes his voice now. But, before he goes in to kiss you, his eyes soften a little bit as he drinks in your features. "You're very beautiful..."

You feel the heat rising in your body, you drape one of your legs around him, resting your knee on his hip. "Thank you..."

Peter lets out a soft groan, his hand immediately comes to grip your thigh, encouraging you to press your body against his, and he traps your lips in his with a fiery kiss.

The stubble from his face is a little scratchy, but you don't mind. His tongue is sweet from the wine he was drinking, and you can't get enough. His hands travel a little higher on your thighs and you gasp into his mouth as he pulls you on top of him so you're straddling him with one knee on either side of his waist.

"C'mere..." he purrs.

You lean in closer to him, pressing your forehead against his to try and make your moans more quiet as he grinds your pussy against the bulge in his swim trunks, the soft fabric of your bikini bottoms separating you. The friction is delicious and you reward him with a neverending chorus of his name.

"Peter...."

Peter gives a loud groan, his grip on your hips tightens, this time bucking his hips under your spread pussy, letting you ride the outline of his cock.

"Ffuck....Peter, baby...." you whine.

"Mmm yeah, baby?" Peter lands a sharp spank on your ass in response, making you curse under your breath again. "You like what I'm doing to you?"

"Yes baby, I love it." You bite your lip, closing your eyes. "What if someone sees us, baby?"

"Let em watch.." Peter moans.

"Oh God...don't stop, please." Your moans rise in pitch.

"Fffuck....." Peter breaths out, his hands coming up to grip your breasts while you ride him. "I won't baby...fuck..." The sensation causes him to close his eyes as well. "You feel too good to stop."

You lean over, your lips crashing greedily against his, both of your tongues dancing in each other's mouths, while you grind together. His hands can't get enough and he finally starts to curl two fingers inside your pussy which elicits a sharp cry of passion, Peter playfully shushing you as he kisses your nose.

-----

The rose Miguel is holding falls onto the sand below as he watches you and Peter heavily making out, now engaged in mild foreplay and you might as well start fucking at any moment now due to how hot and heavy the scene is.

It's almost a race with how quickly the jealousy, nausea, and rage rises in Miguel's body, filling him to the brim. He stands there, jaw and shoulders tense. His cock twitches a little at your whines but seethes at the sight of another man's hands all over you. He finally rips himself away, not able to withstand it any longer.

Noir and Jess look at him with raised eyebrows as he sits at the beachside bar after downing 3 shots of tequila back to back. He just sits there, eyes glazed over at the empty shot glasses in front of him for several moments until he leans forward, laying his head in his arms with his eyes closed.

----

To be continued...

#miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #spotify #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel o'hara angst #miguel ohara angst #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara imagine #Spotify

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hariboz · 5 months

Text

NEW YEARS KISS

“your best friend decides to volunteer when you complain about not having anyone to kiss on new year’s eve!”

pairing: bff!gyuvin x gn!reader

genre: fluff!!, friends to lovers!!

warnings: reader is somewhat of a romantic (?), reader is also said to be a little inexperienced in terms of dating!!, a little (implied?) jealousy from gyuvin, seunghan cameo (1. FREE HIM!! HE DID NOTHING!! 2. he was the first non-jebi guy i thought of <3), they’re cute <3, this is nawt my best work i literally wrote this on new year’s eve while with my family 😭

notes: HAPPY NEW YEAR MY POOKIES!! i hope all of you have an amazing, healthy and happy 2024 🥹🫶🏻 may all your goals come to fruition!! also, i’m very excited for a new year with my jebis, may they continue to thrive and be as happy as they can be <3 also, hope wakeone burns down xoxo MWAH LOVE U ALL <33 ALSO!! i picked gyuvin for this bc some knetz are pissing me off currently with their stupid hate for gyuvin, so i decided to write this bc i LOVE KIM GYUVIN!! IF YOU DONT MAY GOD STRIKE YOU DOWN

word count: 1.6k

you don’t mind being single, really. it’s not really the ‘being single’ part that makes you feel weird, but rather just…not getting to have the same experiences as your friends. always having to sit and nod along when they talk about a date they went on, or how they celebrated a holiday with their partner. it’s exhausting being surrounded by couples all the time. they’re all your friends and you’re happy for them, but when it comes to events like this, you really wish you’d have more single friends.

new year’s eve is supposed to be fun, filled with laughter and loud excitement for the coming year — it is all that, but it’s also you watching your friends huddle together once the countdown to midnight starts, sharing sweet nothings before celebrating the new year with a sickeningly sweet new years kiss.

all while you kind of just stand there, celebrating the arrival of yet another year on your own. for those few lips-locking seconds, at least. is it a little silly to feel left out? of course, but is it really that absurd to want to experience a new years kiss just like everyone else? well, you don’t think so. gyuvin, your best friend, sees things a little differently, though.

“it’s so stupid, i don’t get why you’re so hung up on it,” gyuvin huffs past his snacking on some chips, throwing you a sideways glance. “just think about it, most of them have a different new year’s kiss every year. does that seem like something you want?” you roll your eyes, snatching the bag of chips from his hands. “you don’t get it,” you stuff a handful of chips into your mouth, “it’s romantic. it’s like saying ‘i have no idea what the new year will bring, but at least i will always have you.’ you’re not romantic enough for this.”

gyuvin just gives you a skeptic look, turning his attention back to the drama playing on your tv. it’s silent for a while, both of you a little lost in your respective thoughts until gyuvin quietly speaks up, “does it really bother you? that you don’t have someone to….” he trails off, voice a little unsure. his voice is sincere and doesn’t have the teasing tone it had earlier so you’re a little caught off guard.

you clear your throat, answering in an equally small voice, “well…yeah, kinda? i don’t know. i just think it would be…nice, for a change, you know? i want to experience stuff like that too, instead of just always watching from the sidelines.” gyuvin nods, seemingly understanding where you’re coming from, and that was that. for now, at least.

you didn’t think much of that little one off conversation, neither of you bringing it up again in the weeks that followed. though, unbeknownst to you, that seemingly unimportant conversation kept knocking at the back of gyuvin’s mind every single day. he thought about it an embarrassing amount, really. he kept telling himself that it was because he thought you were being silly, and all those times he thought about being the one giving you your new year’s kiss were definitely nothing more than fleeting, stupid thoughts. nothing more.

which is why gyuvin is so conflicted when he walks through the door of your little friend group get together on new year’s eve, bags of snacks in hand, only to see you laughing with a guy he hasn’t seen before. there’s an unfamiliar feeling bubbling in his chest and he almost involuntarily thinks back to your conversation, to the fact that you really want to kiss someone once the clock strikes midnight — and it starts to mess with his head.

he’s quickly roped into a conversation with ricky and some of his other friends, though his eye seem to be glued to you instead of the people talking to him right in front of him; his eyes drifting back to you giggling along to whatever that strange guy was talking about every few minutes, the unsettled feeling in his chest spreading all over his body. “are you even listening?” gyuvin’s attention is ripped away from staring holes in that guys head when ricky addresses him directly, ricky’s hand on his shoulder bringing him back to reality.

“yeah, sorry.” the smile on gyuvin’s face is tight, ricky glancing to where you’re still speaking to the guy and it all makes sense to him. he sends gyuvin a sympathetic look and tries to keep up the conversation, though it’s clear gyuvin’s mind is entirely preoccupied.

when the calls for new snacks start, gyuvin immediately volunteers to filling the bowls back up in the kitchen, if only to avoid his eyes from drifting back to you and the guy — whose name is seunghan, he learned — and in turn dampening his mood even further. today is supposed to be fun, why is he moping around like this?

“what did the chips do to you? you’re practically glaring ar them,” gyuvin’s head whips around at your voice, the playful smile on your face lifting some of the heaviness in his chest when he sees you standing in the doorway.

“oh, hey.” gyuvin gives you a small smile and goes back to his snack duties while trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, “who’s the guy you’ve been talking to? you bring him along?”

shaking your head you reach over to steal a handful of cheese puffs gyuvin had just emptied into a bowl, “not me, but ahrin. his name is seunghan and she has her eye on him,” you mumble, “he’s funny and they both seem to like each other.” gyuvin nods, hand absentmindedly playing with his sleeves, “you think she’ll go for the new years kiss with him?” gyuvin asks, and you can tell he regrets the question as soon as he asked it.

you just shrug silently, the sudden mention of the kiss rendering you a little speechless. “ and you? you got anyone to kiss this year?” gyuvin says in an overly sarcastic tone, seemingly in an effort to loosen the tension a little. you snort at that, “ha ha, very funny. leave me and my romantic aspirations alone,” the lightheartedness in your voice makes gyuvin relax a little, and just when he’s about to speak, someone bangs against the kitchen door, demanding your attention.

“c’mon you two, we’re playing some games,” matthew calls before rushing back to the living room. you and gyuvin share a short glance before loading up on all the snacks and following suit, excited for the mess that is most definitely about to ensue.

two screaming matches, one round of (rigged, according to hao) just dance, three bowls of snacks and dozens of tears spilt through laughter later and the almost dreaded countdown to midnight is inching closer. the couples are slowly starting to separate from the group again, looking for an area that is less crowded and a little more romantic. your high mood is slowly starting to go down, the feeling of once again being the third wheel, in a way, accompanied by this off-putting feeling of loneliness in a room full of your friends bringing the self-doubt at the back of your mind to the forefront again.

gyuvin plops down next to you, stretching his long limbs with a groan, “god i hate sitting on the floor,” he looks around, the amount of couples in your friend group only now really hitting him, “damn, is that kiss really that important?” it was a rhetorical question, really, and he was speaking to himself more than anything, yet you turn to scowl at him.

you open your mouth to go on a rant about the lack of romance in gyuvin’s mindset when he suddenly turns to you, cheeks a little flushed but eyes filled with determination, “i’ll do it.”

you blink at him, “huh? do what?” gyuvin swallows, “kiss you. give you the new years kiss you want.” it takes a second for his words to register, before you splutter at him incredulously, “what— gyuvin why would we—“

“okay, time for the countdown! ten!” you hear from the other side of the room, and panic starts to fill gyuvin’s expression. “because i want to. i’ve been thinking about it ever since you mentioned it, and—“

“seven!”

“you said it was like saying that i have no idea what the new year will bring, but at least i will always have you, right?” his eyes search for yours, his pupils shaking and you nod, still a little stunned.

“four!”

“that’s exactly i want to tell you. so please—“

“three!”

“i want to be the one to give you your new years kiss. if you want—“

“two!”

and then, it happens. you grab his face and pull him close, hesitation for just a millisecond before your lips meet right as it reaches midnight. the fireworks outside colouring the sky feel almost pathetic in comparison to the burst of emotions exploding in your chest, it’s warm and fuzzy and just feels so right.

both of your faces are flushed bright red as your lips separate, but neither of you can keep from biting back the goofy smiles spreading on your faces. before you can even begin to think of something to say gyuvin leans back in, pressing another kiss to your lips.

and another. and another…and another.

you only separate for good when your giggles break through the kiss, gyuvin’s hands cupping your face, “i’d say that was a pretty good start into the new year, no?”

743 notes · View notes

hentyehottie · 5 months

Text

‎✧ lovesick!chifuyu x hyperfem!bimbo reader : A jealous, pining Chifuyu finally gets the courage to approach you after watching you fraternize with Mitsuya ♡

black fem reader, chubby bimbo reader, reader is a fashion girlie! not really mentioned but chifu studies literature, semi-public sex (I think), kinda whiny reader, kind of a shift at the end. lovesick!chifuyu, reader is a maneater not a mean girl! (jk) Mitsuya & Takemichi make an appearance! There’s like one b*ji spoiler, standing doggy, slight choking, pussy eating, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), excuse any mistakes, MDNI

author’s note: for my bby @prtttycocobuttvr 🫶🏾chile this has been in the drafts for idk how long 🥲 extra long for literally no reason, the bulk of it isn’t even the smut…the ending is so abrupt 😭 but I really needed this out my drafts

wc: 3.7k

─────────── εїз ───────────

Every now and then Chifuyu thinks back to the day the two of you met.

He fucking hated you at first, he’s ashamed to admit. Was it really hate though? Could’ve been annoyance, jealousy maybe? A lil bit of both is what he’ll chalk it up to. It was love at first sight for him, meanwhile you never gave a second glance in his direction.

He started seeing you more as the weeks passed, the two of you had no classes together, but he still saw you around far too often. You smelled just like marshmallows or vanilla, something sweet that demanded his attention every single fucking time you strutted past him.

It became a routine—class, cafe and lastly the library where he’d find you doing anything but reading.

Once a quiet safe haven for him to relax with a good book, now overtaken by the clicks and clacks of you touching up your makeup, or the rustle of a potato chip bag while you sit there with your pink Hello Kitty headphones watching some Netflix drama, even the constant sucking and the jumbling of ice as you slurp down every drop of your boba coffee while waiting for your newest minion to finish your homework.

That day was supposed to be no different. You and one of your minions were heading to that same table, around the same time you always arrived. You looked so damn good too. You always did.

He was obsessed with your new hair color, black girl blonde is what he learned it’s called. Ash blonde with dark chocolate roots and it’s just so damn pretty he’s losing his fucking mind. Your face is fresh and bare, no makeup aside from a dark blackish-brown lip liner and gloss. Lashes full and fluffy, you must’ve gotten them filled over the weekend.

His eyes are trailing your every move, waiting for the glimpse of your backside that never came.

“Hiiiii Mitsu & friends!” You leaned down to drape yourself over the lavender’s shoulders. Chifuyu tries to keep his cool, brows furrowed and eyes almost as wide as saucers as he watched this strange display.

And friends? How fucking pathetic is that. Granted, he didn’t know your name either, often referring to you as “that pretty girl” when he spoke about you to Baji’s grave but fuck, that made him feel like shit.

It’s the first time he’s heard that cute voice of yours and it’s when you’re greeting Takashi fucking Mitsuya?? You guys seem well acquainted and it burns Chifuyu up inside, when the fuck did you two get all buddy-buddy? And what the fuck did Mitsuya have that he didn’t?

He wonders who initiated the first contact, wouldn’t be surprised if it was Mitsuya, he’d always had the confidence a loser like him lacked. He was also very good with women, unlike Chifuyu. Then again, you seem very bubbly and outgoing so it very well could’ve been you who approached him.

“Here are those fabric swatches I was telling you about. If you decide to use any just let me know! I have tons of rolls and I can bring you some yards.” You hand him a couple of squares of fabric. At least ten 4x4 squares that you took the time to cut and string on a little o-ring like paint swatches. So cute.

“Thank you, y/n!” He smiles. “I’ll surely let you know.”

Just like that, you’re heading over to your table, minion hot on your heels.

It’s a quick exchange, and it should’ve been harmless, but boy does it boil his blood. God, did you speak to everyone but him?!

“Y/N,” Damn, he learned your name, heard your voice and watched you diss him all in one sitting. It was insane. “You know her?”

“Yeah, we’ve only spoken a few times but she’s super friendly. She’s an exchange student from the states, a fashion major too, we have classes together.” Mitsuya spoke as he sketched out a few designs for a project.

“This would make a nice jacket.” He shows Takemichi the blush pink corduroy square for him to feel. “Maybe pants too if she has enough. It’d look nice on Koko, he’s my model.” “It would! It’s nice and soft, like velvet! Koko’s super pretty too, it’ll look great.”

He steals glances at you every now and then.

“Just talk to her dude, she’s literally so sweet.”

He doesn’t raise his head, still sketching away, but it’s clear who his words are directed to. Mitsuya has known him for quite some time, of course he knew how to read his pragmatic friend.

“Yeah! Unless you’re scared.”

He cuts his eyes at the crybaby blonde. Of course he wasn’t scared, just a bit apprehensive is all.

He looks your way one last time.

Your back is to him and you have your MacBook open in front of you watching a recap of celebrity metgala looks. You’re enamored by your fashion content, even taking notes in your cute notebook with your adorable pom-pom pen. You’re too oblivious—too much of an airhead in your own dumb little world to notice that simp eye fucking you.

Dude’s practically drooling while staring at your tits. It’s disgusting, enraging even. It boiled his blood, so much that he’s scooting his chair back to approach the both of you. Takemichi and Mitsuya watched him with careful eyes, since he didn’t say a word before he made his move. Fuck it, his pride was already shot and he didn’t have shit else to lose.

You didn’t even notice him at first, both airpods in, now staring into your hello kitty shaped compact mirror while reapplying that sticky beauty supply lipgloss all over your plump pout.

Before he could even stop himself he’s snatching up your homework sheet, scanning his eyes over this chump’s work. Wrong. Wrong. Most were either fucking wrong or incomplete! Complete bullshit and he was gonna let you turn that in?!?

“Get the fuck outta here.” He’s speaks so calmly, it’s all the more sinister.

The four-eyed geek is snatching up his bag and calculator so damn fast you’d think Chifuyu had a gun to his head.

It pissed him off so bad! But why did it piss him off so bad?

Probably because you’ve approached everyone but him as if he’s not one of the smartest people on this fucking campus. Probably fucked them all too, so why were you being so damn stingy with him? And why the hell was he so worried about it?

Chifuyu motions to sit down next to you, thighs spread with his hands clasped between them. He run’s his sweaty palms along his pants every now and then, trying to build the courage to speak to you.

You give your lips one last smack, capping your lipgloss and shutting your compact. “Hey, you’re Mitsu’s friend! Do you know where…nevermind. I don’t even remember his name.”

“He said he had something to do, I don’t know. Doesn’t matter.”

“Oh okay. What’s up?” You finally give him your undivided attention, dropping your stuff into your little designer baguette bag, turning in your chair until you’re facing him. You’re almost instantly entranced by those striking eyes, iris’ the color of sea glass. The dark locks of his undercut styled messy and wild. He’s cute. Real cute.

“I like you.” Chifuyu has never been one to beat around the bush, even though his heart was nearly beating out of his chest right about now.

“You don’t know me to like me, so if you wanna fuck me, just say that.”

You say it like it’s nothing. Must be used to it by now, constant fetishizing instead of genuine attraction. But the way he’d been pining over you was much deeper than someone who just wanted a quick fuck. You plagued his mind—his thoughts, all you.

He runs his tongue over his lips, not in a creepy way, but because he’s nervous and they’re dry. Either way you still notice it, it’s kinda hot honestly.

“I do. I mean I would, but I don’t want to-I don’t have to,” He’s stumbling all over his words and it’s fucking embarrassing. Word vomit, is what Mitsuya calls it, it starts and there’s no telling when it stops.

“Regardless, I wanna know you–I think you’re so pretty, I like your style, the way you dress and stuff. And I’ll do your homework, if you want. Or I can actually show you how to do it, cus’ if you turn this garbage in you’re sure to fail.” Chifuyu tosses out. He barely wanted to do his own, so why the fuck was he offering to do yours? Was he that desperate for your attention?

You’re twirling your hair around your finger, head tilted. You’d never had one of them offer to teach you, just always offering to do it just to be in your space.

“Hmmm..so you wanna be my tutor. I guess, but what’s in it for me?”

The blackette could feel his eye start to twitch, there’s no way you were serious. “I’m doing your homework and tutoring you for free, what the fuck else do you want from me?” He scoffs.

Greedy bitch.

“Boy please, I can have any of these other guys doing my homework. You obviously want something from me and I just wanna know what you’ll offer me in return.”

“I don’t want anything from you, I’just want you.”

You stare at him and he stares back, that adorable face of his morphed into a slight pout. He holds eye contact the entire time, it’s almost intimidating, but his aura is so light and genuine.

He’s a strange boy, you’ve concluded, but it’s intriguing.

“Why?”

“I don’t fuckin know,” He truly doesn’t know, you’re just a dumb girl he happened to see at school. Not the first and definitely not the last, but you’ve been on his mind since he first laid eyes on you. “But I like you, a lot. I’ll do whatever you want.”

He was infatuated and he didn’t know why.

You divert your eyes, tapping your puffball of your pen against the wooden table. “What if I want you to fuck me?”

There’s a pause, you look at him and he looks at you before he sucks his teeth. “You’re joking.” Even still, he feels the blood rushing from his cheeks to his cock.

“You said whatever I want.” He needs to make sure he heard that correctly. Was it a test? A prank? Because you’re obviously just fucking with him. “But if it’s too forward, we can just study I guess.”

He’s silent and so are you but the way he’s boring into your soul makes you wish you never brought it up at all. “You serious?”

You nod, batting your fluffy mink lashes at him and as lame as it sounds, that’s all it took.

Next thing he knew, Chifuyu was eating his crush’s pussy in one of the private study rooms. He’s almost embarrassed at how quickly he fell to his knees, eager to slurp on your pretty, plump cunt.

The library is old. One of the oldest buildings on campus, hasn’t been renovated since it was built. A private study room was the perfect place—just a windowless, concrete box where no one could see or hear you leaned on your back with your feet in the air while he sucked on your pussy.

Your clit is juicy and suckable, the pink nub catches his attention the minute he slid your panties down and spread your thighs open.

He’s used to keeping his face stuffed in a book back here, now he’d much rather have his face stuffed between your thighs every second of the day.

You’re a sight to see right now, tits spilling out from under your top, panties looped around one of your ankles and your skirt is flipped up and out of the way, away from the mess he’s making between your thighs.

He’s so messy with it, spitting on it and slurping it back up, licking stripes up your sweet pussy until your clit is peeking out of its hood.

“So good.” He breathes out, spreading you wider. From your hole, all the way up and back down again, his tongue leaves no part of your cunt untouched. He’s dragging up one last time before sucking your cute little clit between his lips, running his hands up and down your plush thighs and belly.

After a while you lean up and your shaky hands manage to pry those supple pink lips away from your clit, his lips leaving your pussy with a loud, wet ‘pop’. “Waittt, I never got your name.” You whined.

As if names, or lack there of, had ever stopped you. But you desperately wanted to know his and you wanted to scream it when you came—which would be very soon if he kept sucking on your clit like that.

He’s gazing up at you with those dazzling seafoam green eyes, silvery strands of your slick still connected to his lips when he pulls away from your pussy.

“Chif-fuck...” He’s huffing and puffing trying to catch his breath, resting his head on your thigh for a moment. Your hand is running through his hair, back and forth petting motions until his breathing slowed. “Chifuyu. Matsuno..Chifuyu.”

He rarely gave his full name, at least not to people he held no respect for. But you were different, he just knew you were. He’d never been this intrigued by another person since middle school when he met the infamous Baji.

“Chi-fu-yu. Chif-uyu.”

You test it on your tongue, wanting to get every syllable right. It makes him fucking melt, the sound of his name flowing from your glossy lips is so pretty. Fuck, he needed to hear you moaning, screaming and babbling it like a little slut. His little slut.

He wastes no time pressing his lips back to your pussy, licking thick stripes up and down, fat tongue relentlessly teasing your entrance and dragging back up to your clit.

“F-fuck how are you so good at this..” It catches you off guard. His head is sloppy and nasty, but not too wet with just enough teasing to drive you insane. It’s almost as if he’d been acquainted with your pussy before this, but you know there’s no way.

You barely notice how your body subconsciously rocks against him, rubbing your pussy up and down his face, your clit bumping his little button nose every single time.

Your question falls on deaf ears.

The once bright-eyed boy is now staring at you, his eyes alarmingly low and glossed over as he loses himself.

He’s too far gone now, lost in absolute bliss between your thighs—the taste of your gooey, sticky cunt, your moans, the feel of your thighs trembling. Pussydrunk wasn’t even the word.

He lets you use him. Lets his tongue hang slack against his chin for you to grind your puffy clit against it. His face is wet and sticky and he’s covered up to his cheeks in your slick. He can barely breathe, you’re rocking far too fast for him to get a breath in, but even still Chifuyu would eat your pussy until he was blue in the face if it meant pleasing you.

Every inhale is laced with your scent and it’s like an aphrodisiac. Everything about this was so perfect. He can feel the shivers running up and down your body—you’re close, he knows it and that’s when he gets relentless.

“G-nna cum for you baby..can I cum?”

Christ, the way his dick jumped should’ve been a sin. Chifuyu hums against your clit, groans his approval so his lips don’t have to abandon your perfect pussy again. You can feel every single lick & suck and even the puffs of air he breathes out of his nose as he slurps on your cunt, teasing your sensitive clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming Chifuyu. Mmm, I’m cumming. Chifu-”

Your climax hits you like a punch to the gut, knocks the wind out of you and has you doubling over with your hands tangled in his dark locks, your trembling thighs squeezing against his neck.

Your moans and pants are so sexy, he loves you like this. You don’t even realize you’re running from him until he grips your hips tighter, pulling you forward and holding you taut.

He’s desperate to drink up all you’ll give him, thick tongue gliding over your hole before he’s shoving it inside. Not a drop of your lovely essence goes to waste as you let him get his fill.

The chime of the desk phone startles you and forces him to part from your cunt. He looks at you and you look at him, you make no move to get it forcing him to.

“Chifuyu!” The librarian calls, he frequents this place so often that the two of them have gotten quite familiar. “Sorry to bother you and your girlfriend, but the library closes soon-“ She’s checking her watch. “In about ten minutes hun.”

“Ah, okay! Thank you Miss and she’s not-” When he catches the dial tone he places the phone back on the receiver.

“She says we have ten minutes until the library closes.”

Before he can even finish, you’re already on your knees shoving his joggers and underwear down in one swift move. His dick is gorgeous—thick with a pretty pink tip. You’re not sure about the size, seven maybe seven and a half inches. Either way, it fills your mouth perfectly, big and heavy on your tongue as you lick the precum dripping from the tip.

The minute he feels your mouth on him he nearly loses all control, knees threatening to give. Chifuyu grips your jaw, popping his cock out of your mouth with an audible ‘pop.’

He notices a dip in between your brows. A frown?

A pouty frown on your pretty face accompanied by a roll of your eyes. So cute.

“Chifuuu,” You whining his name is tearing him apart inside, staring up at him with those doe eyes. “We only have 10 minutes. I wanna make you cum.”

He’s pulling you back up, spinning you until your ass is pressed against his crotch.

“I know pretty…I’m gonna fuck you.” His voice is breathy, desperate. “That okay?”

It’s soft but he hears it. The soft ‘yeah’ tumbling from your lips, the small gasps of anticipation as you raise up on your tip toes to meet his height. He’s sliding his length through the junction of your thighs, coating himself in your slick.

It’s so good, this little crevice between your thighs and cunt feels like heaven. Like the warmest hug embracing him with every push and pull of his hips.

He has to force himself to pull away. He wouldn’t be able to face you again if he came from fucking your thighs.

Blunt fingertips melt into the plush flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks to watch as he slides past the tight ring of your entrance, a loud squelch greeting him when he bottoms out.

You’re the epitome of enticing, a pretty bitch with a perfect pussy, and honestly he feels undeserving. He feels his infatuation for you growing deeper, except this is something he wants, no, needs forever.

He’s so gentle, stroking slow and stretching you out just right cus it’s a tight fit.

Despite the wetness dripping down your thighs, you feel every single inch of him. The burn of the stretch, the slight ache as he kisses your cervix with every clumsy thrust. Your pussy feels so good around him, like it was made for him. Made to take his dick.

“I didn’t—I didn’t think you’d be so b-big.”

Snaking his hands around your neck, he’s pulling you up so your back meets his chest, rolling his hips so the thick head of his dick mushes against the gummy walls of your g-spot. Your legs are trembling but he holds you up. Heavy breaths against your ear as his chin rests on your shoulder.

“Mmm, yeah? You don’t think much of me at all, do you? Think you’re too good for me?”

“Noooo! I don’t think that.” He’s not letting up, stroke after stroke, until you’re creaming all over him, and even then, he still doesn’t stop. “W-would never… think that.”

The thick white fluids settling at the base of his cock, the slick gush of your pussy every time he fucked into you. It was driving you mad.

“I don’t exist in your world,” Thrust after thrust. “But you consume mine, I want you so bad.”

Your brain is fuzzy, just barely able to make out what he’s saying. “I-ah want you tooo…y’know just h-how to handle me baby.”

“Yeah,” He breathes out. “Of course I do.”

You’re not sure if it’s the sureness in his voice or the sweet kiss he presses against the bare skin behind your ear that sends you over the edge but your climax hits you like a train carrying the sweetest bliss. You don’t utter a word, just deep breaths and pants, a quiet belt of his name towards the end as you melt into him with every buck of his hips. He feels it—the spasms, the trembling, the cozy warmth you coat him in, an impromptu reminder that he’s unprotected inside of you. Still, he fucks you through it, just until he’s close enough-

“F-f-fuuuck.” The groan rips through his throat as he reaches his end, the grip on your neck loosens as he pushes you down and spills his seed all over the cheeks of your ass.

He’s so unprepared it’s a shame, forced to use the inside of his turtleneck to clean the mess he made, even going as far as to place you up on the table and wipe between your thighs.

“Oh you didn’t have to- I have wipes..”

“No big deal, didn’t wanna dirty your skirt. You made this, right?” He rubs the hem of the frayed pink denim, recall’s seeing a square of this same fabric on the ring you gave Mitsuya.

“I-I did. How did you know?”

“I remember seeing you sketching it out. Glad it turned out nice enough for you to wear. It’s cute..” He trails off when you avert your gaze.

“Thank you. I’m glad too…” You trail off and you avert your gaze.

“Don’t go acting shy on me, y/n.” It’s the first time you’ve seen it, something akin to a smile on his cute little face, his eyes are as bright as stars as he stares down at you. It’s odd, almost as if the roles had changed.

“I’m not!” You whine. “It’s just strange, you’re strange Chifuyu.”

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ferrstappen · 1 year

Text

max the extra wag l Max Verstappen

a/n: this is so bad im sorry but it just came to my mind! I hope to post the second part of the Lando break up series tomorrow, hopefully after he gets on the podium!!!!

pairing: Max Verstappen x female reader

genre: fluff

FIND THE REST OF MAX THE WAG SERIES HERE

summary: you can't keep up with all the drama outside the track, but your boyfriend keeps you updated.

It's not like you didn't check social media or that your algorithm didn't show you edits of your boyfriend driving, trauma dumping, looking cute and hot as always, but after a couple of weeks being exploited as an intern, you didn't really have the time to keep up with the usual gossip from Max's work.

Monaco GP, 2023

It was great to be home. The best of the Monaco Grand Prix was that you could sleep on your own bed, you and Max could walk back home hand in hand, stopping to buy things you may need: sweets to fill your purse to binge while sitting on the garage, the special herbal blend Max liked to have before going to bed, condoms because the last box was almost empty.

Adored and precious routine. almost.

You had to admit Monaco made you a little more nervous, not only because of the narrow streets, but a lot of important, well-known people were all over the place, and Max was the center of it all. Even after years of relationship, you still felt nervous when he looked at your with glowing eyes.

This is my girlfriend, (y/n). She has this great internship because she's the best of her class. I'm sure you've met before.

When all that was over, you chatted a bit with known photographers from the paddock, and right when you were speaking to one of them, you noticed the special white and red look of Charles Leclerc, walking hand in hand with a girl.

It didn't catch your attention immediately, but when you were back home, comfortably sitting on your bed reading an article for work while Max viewed the photographs of the day, the image sneaked in your thoughts.

"You didn't tell me about Charles and Charlotte!" you released the statement a bit harsher than expected, Max's eyebrows furrowing.

"Tell you what?" Max was confused and his face showed it, it was funny.

"Charles Leclerc? Charlotte Siné? Sounds familiar?" you said playfully rolling your eyes.

"I know who they are, schat, but I don't know the thing I was supposed to tell you about? They broke up months ago, they even announced it on instagram, although it was completely unnecessary if you ask me," The last sentence painted a smile on your face, recognizing the change of the tone of his voice, posture and facial expressions, he was ready to gossip.

"But I saw them walking together today! They were walking towards the Ferrari garage, they were holding hands and everything!"

Right in that moment, you observed how his expression changed before realizing a chuckle, his loud and gorgeous laugh that instantly made your insides flutter because it came from his stomach, his lungs; the purest laugh, your favorite.

"She is his new girlfriend, babe," Max told you and your jaw dropped. "Checo said the same thing to me and Daniel when they walked in together for the first time, Checo was sure it was Charlotte until Charles introduced us before the press conference," Now he was in full gossip mode: sitting straighter, phone left behind, blue eyes open wide.

"I'm speechless," you told him, repeating what you saw in the morning over and over again, but your feelings suddenly deviated from surprise to betrayal, playfully hitting Max's thigh. "Honey, why didn't you tell me that sooner?!"

Barcelona GP, 2023

Today you entered the paddock alone, coming straight from the hotel room after landing just an hour ago. You were sad to miss Friday, but your boss said it was vital for you to be in the office on Friday, insisting the meetings couldn't be held on Zoom.

You knew it was because he's a Mercedes fan and hoped Max would be distracted without having you there.

As if. your presence wasn't very vital during the weekend and you were well aware of it.

Admiring the amount of fans cheering for their favorite drivers, a sea of red Ferrari merchandising and flags, you walked by the Ferrari garage to greet Carlos, letting him know you (and Max) were cheering for him to get P2.

P1 belonged to your boyfriend, always.

Quickly scanning the drivers lounge you noticed the Sainz family, very close to each other, Carlos Sainz Sr. listening to everything the engineers were saying about his son's strategy and car.

But something was missing, and it was easy to notice because every friend and family of Carlos was there.

With that idea roaming, you reached your destination, grabbing a sugar free Red Bull before finding your boyfriend with his suit hanging from his hips, tightly hugging him from his waist while carefully extending your neck to meet his lips.

Max was required to stay longer on the track, Christian letting him know they added a meeting to discuss strategy because of the changing wether.

This left you with almost an hour to kill; your head resting on his thighs as he carefully juggling.

"Max, have you heard anything from the party last week? after the gp?" this got Max's attention, already knowing you had a piece of information.

"I know Lando almost hooked up with a girl from Latin America, from Chile I think? but nothing happened because his brother was staying on his flat. Charles and... ex girlfriend 2.0? made it official. Checo didn't go anywhere because last year still haunts him..." Max was mentally remembering every piece of information he'd heard during the week. "Oh, and I think Carlos was with a girl that wasn't his girlfriend? Christian said they didn't do anything, but Max Fewtrell said they left together,"

"Interesting because you know who's not in the Ferrari garage? at his home race? Isa," You told Max, which caused him to drop the colorful balls he was juggling.

"No! So it's true? he cheated?" He whisper shouted.

"Maybe they've been broken up for some time, now that I think about it I haven't seen her since testing?"

Neither Max nor you heard when someone walked in, calling for Max. Because now Max's head was resting on your legs as your fingers caressed his hair, his hands moving around as he came up with a possible theory, tying loose ends and trying to remember anything he'd heard.

The subject was forgotten once you arrived to the hotel room; lights off, eyes almost closing, but Max gasped when he remembered something Alonso mentioned during a press conference, apparently after hearing Lance talking with Esteban.

"Lance said Esteban and his girlfriend are over, do you think it's true?" Max asked you, and this brought up another thing.

"Did you hear anything about Lance cheating or whatever at his sister's wedding?" now you asked him, bodies coming closer to each other.

Now sleep was long forgotten and the only important thing was the gossipy whispers, the loud giggle leaving Max's lips when something sounded too ridiculous, and the security of knowing you'd never be the subject of those rumors.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen au #max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 x reader #max verstappen fic #max the wag

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klausinamarink · 4 months

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When Life Gives You Pickles, Make It Into Soup

rating: G | cw: none | wc: 920 | tags: established relationship, domestic bliss, soup | prompt: Love is silently passing them a pickle because you know it’s their favourite

written for @steddielovemonth

“So Gareth was supposed to stay on the drums, right?” Eddie waves his hands in the air where he sits on the counter. “That’s like his whole thing since he joined the band.”

“Okay.” Steve nods, glancing over at Eddie as he starts sliding the chopped carrots and potatoes into the pot from the cutting board.

“But during practice, which was today, he says that he wants to play bass guitar. Which, in another day, I would be completely cool with and the other guys will be like, ‘Yeah, Gareth, follow your heart’s intent and pick another instrument that calls out to you.’”

“That’s what you would say.” Steve points out just because he knows that Eddie’s that kind of person who says such long-winded compliments. He fills the pot with cold water from the sink, just barely remembering to throw in a pound of the meat bones to complete the broth.

“Okay, yeah, I said that.” Eddie rolls his eyes. Then he raises an index finger, pointing it up to the ceiling for no particular reason. “But I didn’t! I said none of that because Gareth said he wanted to change instruments today. The day before we will have our venue show!”

Steve drops his mouth open in a wide ‘O’ because he’s that invested in the secret drama of Eddie’s band. “He didn’t.”

“He did.” Eddie shakes his head mournfully. “You can imagine our reactions.”

Steve hums, opening the jar of pickles and plucking one out to pass it to Eddie. Eddie takes it and bites it without a second thought. There’s a couple pickles left in the jar since Steve had already blended the brine earlier so his boyfriend could finish them.

After a few chews and swallows, Eddie continues his tale of mutual devastation, still oblivious to Steve’s cooking. Good. Because this has been in Steve’s plans for weeks ever since he went to the farmer’s market and struck a lovely conversation with that Polish couple. He watches the boiling pot, making sure his attention is perfectly divided between the timer and Eddie’s story.

“-and then Jeff said, ‘How about I switch with the bass, Frankie does the second guitar, and you do the drums?’ I told him, ‘Don’t you remember my last time playing with the drums?’ Jeff just said, ‘Oh yeah, right.’ Then-”

Setting the stove’s temperature down to shimmer, Steve slowly pours in the blended pickle in the broth, mixing it together. He sees Eddie has finished his pickle so Steve passes him another.

This time, Eddie ferociously tears a chunk off, green acid spitting out as he speaks with a full mouth, “Eventually, it was Gareth who finally stood himself up and said, ‘Yeah, you’re totally right, I shouldn’t switch out before tomorrow’s gig. But I’m still doing bass after that's done.’”

“So who’s doing the drums?” Steve crosses his arms, leaning his hip on the counter besides Eddie.

“That’s the thing!” Eddie throws his hands up. Unfortunately, so does the half-eaten pickle. It hits the ceiling with a tiny splat. The two men stare up at it, Steve with genuine surprise and Eddie with horror. Before Eddie can splutter out apologies, Steve wordlessly kisses him and gives him the last pickle from the jar. Eddie carefully eats the whole thing with a bright-red face and eyes pointed downwards. Cute.

Steve double checks the soup. The lid’s so steamed over that he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s been stained completely white. He takes that cue to take it off and shut the stove for it to cool.

Eddie finally speaks, “Yeah, we have no idea who our drummer could be. Like, Gareth’s good but neither of us are. Frankie has good rhythm but he’s better with guitar. I can’t drum for shit. Same with Jeff.”

“Bet that’s a problem for Future Eddie and his friends.” Steve quips, slowly mixing the soup around.

Eddie barks out a laugh. He hops off the counter and stands behind Steve, peeking over at the pot. “This smells delicious by the way. What soup is it?”

Steve makes a shushing gesture to which Eddie responds by biting his shoulder. Steve rolls his eyes and contemplates if he should put in the half and half cream now. The Polish woman at the market had said it was better to wait for the soup to cool enough before adding the cream and parsley. He shrugs and just dumps it anyway.

He retrieves the bowls and scoops a good amount of the soup. “Careful, it’s still hot.” Steve warns as he passes it to Eddie’s eager hands. “And eat at the table this time.”

Eddie sticks a tongue out at him but does so. Steve watches with bated breath as Eddie carefully blows on his spoon before closing his mouth around it. He sees the exact second when Eddie’s eyes widen and his body going stock still. For a terrifying moment, Steve worries that he had messed up the recipe and Eddie was going to spit it out in disgust.

But within a blink of an eye, Eddie’s standing in front of him. Hands clenching tightly on his shoulders while his eyes start watering.

“Sweetheat,” Eddie says oh-so softly, “did you make soup from pickles… for me?”

Steve smiles at him sweetly and gently squeezes Eddie’s wrists. “Pickles are your favourite after all.”

Naturally, Eddie cries his eyes out with blabbering declarations of his unending love for Steve. Steve is more than happy to hold his boyfriends and return those favors.

#if anyone makes me pickle soup we shall have an autumn wedding #klaus writes #steddie #stranger things #steddielovemonth

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astonmartingf · 2 months

Text

MAKE BELIEVE ; LH44

— people assuming you’re a couple is a common misconception whenever you’re out together, most of the time you shrug it off but every now and then lewis acts along making you feel some type of way you’ve never felt before

masterlist

The first time it happened you were both teenagers, Lewis was home after competing in the British Formula 3, you two on your way to some gasoline station for snacks. You could barely remember what exactly happened yet the memory seemed to linger in your head whenever you think about it.

On your way to pay for the food, Lewis stopped you- “I’ll pay for these.”

You frowned, pushing him lightly away from the counter. “No. This is my celebration for you, there’s no way you’re paying.” You smile at the lady, placing the tub of ice cream and chips on the counter.

Lewis on the other hand was not having it, “Okay if it’s my celebration it’s only fair I pay for half of it.”

Raising your brows you shake your head disagreeing with his statement, “That’s not how it works Lew- just let me have it. We barely see each other, let me buy you a bag of chips and ice cream.”

Shaking his head Lewis contemplates before leaving towards the back of the store. A sigh left your lips before facing the clerk, listening in your conversation. “Are you two in a long distance relationship?”

You gawk as your arms scramble into a wave, head shaking, repeatedly saying “No, no, no… We’re just friends. It’s been a while since we met since he’s busy racing all over Europe, someday he’ll be a Formula 1 driver!”

Your excitement over the moon, at the thought of Lewis getting into the big tracks all over the world. “That’s exciting, what about you sweetheart?”

You shrug, nose scrunching, unable to answer the question, “Nothing special, just studying.”

The lady nods as she puts the items in a bag, “Well, I’m sure it’s not nothing. He must be lucky to have a supportive friend like you.”

You smile as the conversation turns back to Lewis, somehow it’s easy to talk about him, you could go on and on praising and telling the whole world about him. You smile, taking the change from her hands.

From the corner, Lewis comes back with two bottles of drink in his hands. “If you’re buying the food, let me pay for the drinks.”

Rolling your eyes you reluctantly agree letting him buy drinks for you two. On the way out he grabs the bag from your hand, carrying it as he lets you lead the way to the local park in the area.

The second time it happened was on your birthday dinner, during one of his free days, he asked you out for a celebratory dinner. “Just the two of us, like the old times.” Lewis raised his glass as you tip yours to his.

“It’s definitely been a while since we sat and talked, how is Formula 1 treating you?” Lewis blew raspberries, shaking his head.

“This is your day, we’re not talking about racing. How are you? Is university treating you well?”

You sense his deflection from the topic, during breaks you find yourself checking updates on Lewis’ race. Many articles are written about him, rumors and hearsay about him, but you’re not one to believe what’s written, rather listen to what he has to say.

“This is us catching up, I’m supposed to ask you questions as well.”

Lewis nods his head, “Answer my question first then I’ll tell you what’s up.”

Knowing you’ll never win against him, you humor him with stories from university, all the drama and chaos that is happening in your internship program.

Lewis tilts his head, grimacing at the details of your professor Andy and his unconventional methods of teaching, which led to two students fighting during class. Laughing, Lewis takes a sip of his drink, “Aren’t I glad I skipped out on college drama.”

This time it was you who laughed at his statement, “Yeah, because racing drama is way much better, and on a bigger scale.” you whisper as Lewis gives you a pointed look.

“You read some stuff, now tell me what it is that you’re so desperate to know?”

You shake in excitement as you tread your thoughts on the questions you prepared to ask him, the top of your head, the rumors of him dating a certain Pussycat Dolls singer. But as you opened your mouth, you were cut off by a string of waiters bringing in cake in the direction of your table, singing “Happy Birthday” catching you off-guard.

“What is this Lewis?” You hiss under your breath, staring at him in bewilderment before smiling politely at the waiters clapping along to them singing.

After their song, they placed a chocolate cake slice in front of you with a lit candle. Staring expectedly at you, “Hey, this only happens once a year. Now go make a wish and blow your candle.”

You laugh at Lewis who gestured towards the cake in front of you. You laugh, shaking your head as you blow the candles. Hearing the cheers of the waiters and Lewis, thanking him with a side hug.

“Do you want us to take a photo of you and your boyfriend to commemorate this moment?” One of the waiters spoke, holding a digital camera in his hand.

“We’re not-” You glance over at Lewis who was already posing, clearly brushing off the comment, “yes you can.”

The waiter nods his head gesturing you to move closer together, looking straight at the camera with a small smile on your face. After a few more pictures the waiters left, leaving you alone with Lewis.

“So what was it that you wanted to ask?”

You shake your head, “Now I forgot about it, maybe next time.”

Lewis smiles before taking a bite of your cake, “Happy Birthday YN, Cheers to us and here’s to more memories with you.”

A small smile breaks the line of your lips, as you take in a small bite of the cake.

Other times it just happens as you go out on walks together. The amount of times you’ve been stopped by elderly women telling how “you look so good together” or been asked, “how long have you two been dating each other?”

Which often leads to the both of you laughing, you more awkwardly, as you shake your heads and deny.

There were awkward moments especially back when Lewis was still dating, the efforts you made as to not be seen with him out of respect and only coming when there are many people invited.

Now in the present, it’s obviously easier to smile and shake off their statements. You’ve gotten used to being asked and it’s almost automatic, the response, your hands waving, head shaking and saying “No.”

It’s been so long, surely you would’ve gotten used to it, especially when Lewis was keen to play along as a couple after you’ve gotten stopped a couple of times. One thing which you’re always against doing, and Lewis respects that.

You never thought about it more than a harmless prank, knowing that people don’t have to know your real relationship- because it was clear to both of you that you are friends. Then and now, but in the eyes of the others it may seem that you’re a couple.

One which you don’t understand, can’t people be friends these days? But it’s not like you can see the honey-dripping off of Lewis’ eyes when he looks at you, prioritizing you when you’re out in public, and doing polite gestures to you. It was normal for you- his actions, you grew up with him, and you certainly watched Lewis grow up to be a fine man.

And you can’t deny how that affected you as the people around you seem to wonder if you haven’t felt that way towards Lewis. And as much as you hate to admit, there are times where he has made your heart flutter.

Once in the Mercedes garage, you were on your way to pick up Roscoe volunteering to look after him. It wasn’t your first time there, but it wasn’t like you were the closest with everyone. You knew a few people, enough to ask for help when you’re lost during the bustling race days. Entering the hospitality, Roscoe must’ve sensed you as he ran over to greet you, patting him on the head, “You missed didn’t you? Where is your father, why are you alone?”

Your eyes wander looking around the hospitality for Lewis. “Excuse me, do you have a pass to be in here?” Raising your head you notice a male staff in front of you. “Oh, I do have it in my bag if you want to check, I’m just waiting for someone.”

Turning around you looked for your pass, but before you could show it to the male staff he disregarded your presence asking you to leave. “Excuse me?”

“I asked you to leave the vicinity please. This is exclusive for VIP and guests, fans can wait outside.”

You stand frozen, bewildered even. Pressing your lips in a thin line you contemplate on what or how to react. Usually you’d rather keep your peace and leave quietly, but it’s not like you don’t have a pass. You are a guest of Lewis.

Sighing, you stare at the male staff, looking him in his eyes showing him your pass. “I am a guest of Lewis Hamilton, I think I can wait right here.”

Despite showing your pass the staff seemed suspicious continuing to ask you questions about your relationship with Lewis, as if the pass wasn’t enough proof. “So, are you like dating him or something?”

You scoff at his statement, rolling your eyes, you take a deep breath going over the response you’ve formulated in your head to shut him off. “My relationship-”

“Yes, she’s with me. Thank you for showing your hospitality.” Lewis appeared from behind, his snarky comment didn’t go unnoticed by you as you snorted by the side.

“I missed you sweetheart, I see that Roscoe came running towards you. I completely lost him inside.” Pulling you into a hug, Lewis gave you a small peck on the cheek ignoring the presence of the staff with us.

“Thank you, I had that handled but somehow you always appear at the right time.”

“I know you can handle it, but there’s no need for you to explain to anyone why you’re here. And I don’t care if it’s about formality or whatever, next time just call me and I’ll come pick you up, or I can ask one of the people from my team to get you.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “You don’t have to do that, I barely go on races, it's fine. I’m just here to pick Roscoe up like I promised.”

Lewis nodded his head, grabbing the bag on the sofa with Roscoe’s name embroidered in the handle. “I’ll walk you to the garage?”

You shake your head, “No need, I actually came from the back like you asked so my car is right outside.” Lewis smiled before handing you Roscoe’s leash.

“I’ll walk you to your car then, I’ll help you bring Roscoe’s stuff.”

Inside your car you settle Roscoe at the back seat, turning on the ignition you hear the soft rumble of the car. From your car mirror, you watch Lewis wave you and Roscoe goodbye.

Outside the circuit, you think back on the situation that had transpired, “Your dad is a sweetheart isn’t he Roscoe? Got me feeling some type of way… Lewis… I’m glad we’re friends.” talking to yourself knowing fully there’s no way you’d admit that to Lewis himself, instead you open up to his dog.

Opening the app on his phone, Lewis watches you drive away safely through the lens inside Roscoe’s leash. There had been many moments he saw between you and Roscoe, including your conversation with the male staff.

It was something he checked every now and then, especially when he’s away from Roscoe. Rest assured, he feels safe knowing he’s left in your hands. Ensuring you two are safe, Lewis swiped to exit the app but not before he heard your voice through the speaker.

“Your dad is a sweetheart isn’t he Roscoe? Got me feeling some type of way… Lewis… I’m glad we’re friends.”

Lewis let out a breathy laugh,leaning back into his seat, the corners of his mouth pulling up into a big smile. Pressing his hands into his face, he feels the rush of heat into his face laughing to himself. “If only you knew sweetheart… Got me feeling some type of way as well…”

At least now Lewis knows, his feelings won’t lead him astray.

#f1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton imagine

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vintagexherry · 9 months

Text

Child's Play [6]

Part 5 here

YandereBully!Miguel O'Hara x Reader

/Bullying, degradation, Fighting, Punching, Threating, Bit of drama, Miguel got too delulu and revealed his breeding kink side, Ooc Miguel, sad ending for Steven :((

Previously

With that he carried you bridal style to what seemed like his bedroom, took your shoes off and layed you down.Your body couldn't resist the soft mattress and finally your eyes drifted to sleep.

"Goodnight, mi vida." He said as he kissed your forehead.

Oh, how much you wished you brought Steven with you...

"Don't.Touch.Me." you punctuated everyword to Miguel who sat across you the dining table, a bored look on his face.

You woke up a few hours ago, you head hurts, your throat feels dry and your eyes sting.

Miguel sighed. "Don't make me force you, mi vida," as he held the spoon to your face.

"And don't call me that.." You demanded, and Miguel sighed, It's early in the morning and, that you still have to go to school to get the things you left, then finally prom.

You would have been excited if not for what happened with Miguel last night.

Since you woke up, he was nothing but sweet as if you two are loving couples, and it creeped you out.

"Fine then don't eat, your loss" and with that he directed the spoon instead to his mouth and started chewing, here he was back to being a bully, your getting really tired with his mixed up moodswings.

"I want to go back to my dorm" you asked, you don't really expect anything from him since he mostly would demand something in return.

"I mean, I would buttttt, you gotta eat first." He huffed out and you relented, lately you've been doing that alot...Maybe it's because Steven's life if probably on the line here.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

After you finished eating, Miguel drove you back to your dorm, but before you could leave the car, Miguel stopped you.

"Tell anyone what happened last night or els-"

"I know...Or Steven's gonna get it."

With that Miguel let you go with hum.

While you prepare yourself, you think back at what happened.

First thing is Steven asking you out to prom.

Second, the party happened...Alot happened there, Miguel's confession and all that.

Miguel's confession struck you, Does he really mean the things he said? Or was he still playing?

You still want to believe that it's prank, but the tone of his voice, the look in his eyes, and the gentle way he held your face after all that.

But does he really expect you to say yes and go. "Yea, sure, that's cool. Let's date!"

You scoff at the thought of it.

After the confession, there's that.

Honestly, it felt violating, harassment even, You wanted to vomit at the thought of it. Even when you got home, it felt like instict to go to the bathroom and wash your lips.

Your thoughts then went over to what you're gonna do once you arrive school.

Act like nothing happened?

You swallowed when it hit you. How are you gonna act in front of Steven?

He already knows the basic things about you and Miguel. He knows he bullies you, and you don't like to be around him.

But that's it, how are you gonna act now knowing that your supposed "bully" just confesses to you and forcefully kissed you.

How are you gonna act knowing that you went to that party just for Steven's sake? He probably would berate you on that part, but for the bully part? You're not sure what he can do.

Oh Steven...Is it even still safe to hang around with him? For all the things that happened, you're not sure anymore.

Miguel would always throw his name into the mix and would threaten his well-being if you don't listen to his whims. You're not sure if you could even ignore his threats. The last time you did in high school was with your crush, but he ruined it by spreading a rumour about him, and next thing you know, your crush blamed you for it.

But will he do the same with Steven? Or more?

You sighed, all this thinking makes you not wanna go to school and you prefer to lay down and sleep forever.

You closed the lights and went outside your dorm, you double checked your things, and with that, you're on your way.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Throughout the whole day, you collected your things and finalized your grades with the teachers.

But also, throughout the whole day, you avoided Steven.

You decided that maybe it's safer for the both of you if you two don't talk anymore, but it's really hard when the guy you're ignoring is your only friend and the person who asked you out to prom.

Talking about avoiding, maybe Miguel has some sense in him since he decided to leave you alone for a while.

You sighed what seemed to be the million time this day. While you ate your food bit by bit in the cafeteria.

"Y/N?"

You flinch, great. The person you were trying to avoid is now here, and you don't know what to do.

You watch as Steven sat down next to you and looked at you with questions in his eyes.

"I,uh- got a high grade in history, hooray for mee." Steven spoke gently with glee in his voice, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Really? That's great, Steven! I got uh- high scores, too. " You try to match his energy, but you sound worn out.

And Steven seemed to notice it.

Throughout your time in the cafeteria, Steven and you did light conversations, hoping to brighten the mood, but Steven always notices the slight hesitation in your voice, as if you're hiding something.

Steven didn't want to bother you by pestering you about it, so he decided to comfort you by giving you his extra chocolate pudding.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

It was now a few hours before prom

You got your dress and everything else.

As days you slowly but surely able to clear your head, especially from events last last time.

You look again in the mirror, double checking your make-up for smudges or your dress for wrinkles, and once everything is fixed you grabbed your purse head out.

Music blasting from speakers is all you hear. You tried looking for Steven in a crowd of people. But you don't see him.

Thinking he might arrive later, you just focused on the band on the stage.

One hour has passed, and you finally see Steven, who seemed to be wearing a white suit with silver accents.

You waved at him, and he noticed you and beamed.

"Y/N mate, you look stunning," He complimented, and you can't help but blush, once you completely approach him you returned the compliment and you can't like he looks good in a suit.

Prom seems to be the only time you truly felt happy during your college year, You and Steven danced, ate, and talked about what you would both do after graduating, which he replied he might work in a Museum and join his other siblings in a expedition in Egypt.

As time flies by, you ignore the feeling of burning stares of someone you know well, wanting to enjoy prom just the way you like it.

You and Steven sat down for a while and decided to chat while drinking fruit punch while slow dance started.

You could hear Steven talk better now due to the music lowering in volume, You swear nothing could ruin this night with him. He was talking animatedly with his hands, something about how his eldest brothers might be the roughest and rudest people out there, but their the best brothers he could ask for. You laugh at the shenanigans he has to face with them.

"....And crazy part of it is that they pretended to murder my pet fish and said the Egyptian gods need sacrifice." You and Steven laughed at that, and it seemed he forgot he was holding a drink since some it spilt on his suit.

You both slightly gasped, and before you could reach for the napkins, he said it was alright and not to worry. He stood up and went to the bathroom, notifying you that he would come back.

You nodded and waited for him, deciding to play on your phone for a while, but it didn't last long since somebody grabbed your forearm and dragged you to the crowd of slow dancing couples.

None other than Miguel O'Hara.

"Wha- Miguel! I don't want to dance!" You said as you tried pushing him off but the grip of his hand on your wrist and waist kept you in place.

Miguel didn't seem bothered by your panic and decided to sway you to the slow beat.

"You know Y/N, during the party I really meant what I said" He started of gently.

You bit back a scoff, and here you are happy with forgetting that party incident and, he come back to remind you.

"I thought about it, yea....I don't know why you expect me to go happy go lucky on it and then what? go on a date?" You retorted.

"Mi vida, I already explained and apologi-"

You look at him straight in the eyes, anger filling yours. "And so did I, I told you, that whatever happened to you, you can't make me your stress ball for it, I declined your invitation to prom cus It doesn't feel right going out with your bully, and I declined since everytime you apologized, you don't really mean what you said since you start treating me like shit again." You seethed, feeling done with his delusions that you're ever gonna forgive him.

Miguel took a moment to breathe and swayed you more. "Maybe, I really would have meant it if you gave me a chance, Y/N. Maybe I would have stopped if you could listen to me properly." He said.

"You know, after graduation, I'm gonna take place in my dad's company. You should work with me soon, after all we're taking the same course"

"N-"

"It's almost the end of the school year Y/N, I could make someone fail you....Or your little Steven Grant guy."

There he goes again with his threats.

"Can you please stop dragging Steven with this? He did nothing, and if you want to hurt someone, just hurt me and not him." You pleaded having enough of hearing Steven's well-being being pushed more and more into trouble.

"Don't want me to hurt Mr. Limp dick? I suggest you leave him then. And that's final, " He demanded

"Wha-"

"Don't make me repeat myself, Y/N. It's the end of the school year, and I could care less about behaviour. repurcussions" He was right, even when prom is near, you know the teachers couldn't really care.

"So leave him yourself, or I'll make him leave you. I'll be waiting for you outside. If you don't come out later, I'm punching the gut out of him."

With that, he let go of your wrist and walked away to the exit.

You were left to deal with what's left to be done, and you tried fighting back tears as you watched Steven go out the bathroom seemingly to remove his coat and just stayed with his blouse.

He saw you and started approaching you.

"Stubborn stain, really, I can't get it ou-....Y/N, you alright luv?" Your heart clenched at the nickname, he's voice full of concern, but here you are, force to ruin it.

"Steven, I...." You hesitated, wanting to just stop and run away with him, somewhere where Miguel won't look for you ever again.

It seems that you were taking too long since you felt your phone vibrate, notifying you of a message and as you check it came from Miguel.

Miguel:

U done yet? Don't take too long, or I'll get you there myself.

You shivered

"Steven, I....I know that this is sudden, but... I think it's best that... We stop talking. " You stammered out, each word hurt than the last. You watch as Steven's face contort in pain, then confusion, and then worry.

"Did...Did I do something? I-I thought we were good, mate." Steven asked, and you started to feel your phone vibrate. Taking a glance, you see, it's Miguel calling, and you start to panic.

"Im...Im sorry Steven" with that you walk as fast as your heels can let you, Ignoring the calls of your name, and outside, you see Miguel leaning against his car.

"Took you long enough, come on" Miguel said with a yawn and opened the door to the passenger side of the seat.

You paused for a while, hesitating since you might either be driven to his house or somewhere else, but you suck it up, not having the power to face Steven.

As you were about to enter, the door leading to your prom venue slammed opened.

"Y/N, wait!" Steven called out.

"I thought I told you to leave him" You ignore him and Steven's calls.

"YOU! I BET YOU MADE Y/N DO THIS!" Before you could process his words a suddenly hear a punch next to you.

You swiftly turned around and saw Miguel clutching a bleeding nose and Steven panting in front of him.

You know what's gonna happen next.

"MIGUEL DON'T-" You tried to stop him by wrapping around his, but he was too fast, and next thing you know, he punched Steven right at his cheek.

"STEVEN!"

You don't know what to do. How can you stop two men who's physically buffer than you to stop fighting, who don't waste their time throwing insults and punches at each other.

You were panicking seeing bruises form in Steven's face. You didn't expect that Steven could pack a punch, Miguel's face was also forming bruises, but you don't really care bout him.

As they were about to throw another punch at each other, you're scared and panic muddled head, you quickly step up between them, and both immediately stop.

"Miguel, stop this already! I did what you asked me to!" You pleaded with Miguel, who watched as tears stream down your face.

Steven watched the scene and pleaded with you to come back so that he could deal with Miguel. But you ignore him. He's already in too much trouble because of you, and seeing the only person cared about you getting beaten up, you couldn't handle it anymore.

So, without facing Steven, you pushed Miguel's chest, leading to the car.

"Let's....Let's just go...Please."

And it seemed like it worked since Miguel smirked.

"Whatever you say bonita." With that, he grabbed your wrist. And led you to the passenger side of it. You sat down and let the tears go waterfall on you.

"Y/N wa-"

"You heard the lady, We're going."

With that, Miguel went to the driver seat and started to drive away, leaving a worried and bruised and your heart broke at the image of him displayed in the rear view mirror.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

With how much you cried, you eventually slept. And Miguel couldn't feel any happier. The pain of the bruises didn't even matter to him anymore since you're here, sleeping peacefully. He didn't care if your makeup got smudged. He finally has you without anyone interfering.

As he drives his thoughts, his mind lingers to the things you two could finally do together, from picnic dates to exploring what feels good in bed. He shook his head from those thoughts not wanting to spoil the fun yet.

As much as he remembers, you're still a virgin. He would always scare away your crushes away or anyone who looked at you funny, always wanting to be your first, he tried doing so during high school during a party in his house while his parents were gone, but since you weren't there he settled with some random broad who almost looked like you.

But then he realized, he has the chance to make your first time, the best.

He shivered from the thought, you have no idea how crazy you make him feel, how many times he was left unsatisfied with random girls and could only be satisfied once they left and he finally have space alone to use the underwear you gave him, but the smell of you didn't last too long on the piece of fabric sadly.

But he can't complain anymore. Why use a piece of fabric when you could have the real thing instead?

Maybe... Just maybe after you two graduated and work at Alchemax together....Just maybe you two could have a little family together, maybe have pet cat or even better

Children

The thought of it made his hands tighten around the steering wheel.

Maybe a baby girl who would have his hair but would have your eyes and smile.

Maybe two baby girls or a son too or maybe six children.

He stopped in front of a stoplight.

Maybe you don't have to work in Alchemax.

Maybe you could be his little housewife who would wait for him to get home, treat him with dinner, and love him like a husband with a shiny ring on both your fingers.

Oh, imagine the wedding you both would have. Maybe invite that Steven guy so he could rub it in his face.

Oh, the sweet image of you walking down the aisle. Oh, how much he would pay just to see you in white.

Then your honeymoon, maybe you two could go in another country then once you both stopped at a hotel he would strip you out then take in the image of your lacey lingerine underneath and then-

He was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts when the car behind him started rapidly beeping.

He can't even get angry at the guy, cus who can blame him?

You really make him crazy for you.

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 #tw yandere #tw yancore #tw bullying #delusional #steven grant #fighting #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel x reader #yandere #drama

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heliads · 2 years

Note

Okay so here come the Enola Holmes requests; hear me out, Tewksbury best friends to lovers where the reader makes things out of paper and tries to teach Tewksbury how to make paper flowers when he asks. He SUCKS at it, but he's head over heels for her and so he spends hours alone practicing and he makes her this cute bouquet out of newspaper and maybe it has like a little love confession note or something in it idk idk but my brain is in overdrive rn

YES this idea is literally the cutest thing ever to me, hope i did it justice!

masterlist

Tewkesbury doesn’t know that he’s lost until he sees her. It’s been too long since he’s been able to get away like this, trade off the drama of the House of Lords and every rule he’s expected to follow for the actual thrills of life. It may be his destiny to grow so deeply entrenched in politics that he stops seeing the difference between his working life and the rest of his waking one, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Needless to say, the second he was able to skive off another day spent around the members of Parliament, Tewkesbury did so with a flourish. He could think of nothing better than tracking down his best friend and spending the rest of the weekend annoying her without pause, but now that he’s actually here, he finds himself coming up short. It was supposed to be nothing out of the ordinary, these couple of days away, but yet when Tewkesbury stares at the girl who’s been like a sister all of these years, he suddenly wishes that connection would disappear in his head forever.

The problem is that the girl who looks up at him with a smile when she sees him looks different somehow, as if spending a mere month or two out of her company has been enough to completely rewrite Tewkesbury’s entire mental picture of her. Do her eyes always shine like that when she sees him, or is that new? Has he always wanted to smile like mad whenever they’re together, or is that the lingering affection of some new affliction Tewkesbury doesn’t think he could name if he tried?

It shakes him to the core, this sudden feeling. One moment, he’s rounding the corner to meet up with a friend, just that, and then he’s looking at this girl and all he can think about is that he never wants to leave her side again. Politics can go to hell without him. Tewkesbury only has an excuse to leave the government buildings for this weekend, but he wishes it could be forever.

He doesn’t have all of eternity to ponder this, though. Y/N L/N races up to him when their eyes meet, and then he’s standing before her, breathless and wondering how on earth he is supposed to go about as if nothing has changed when he’s pretty sure that every possible thing has.

Y/N, however, seems utterly devoid of the miraculous transformation currently wreaking havoc in between Tewkesbury’s ribs. “It’s wonderful to see you,” she beams, “I was beginning to think that you’d gone ahead and moved into the Palace of Westminster forever. I haven’t seen you in years.”

Tewkesbury finds it within himself to scoff at this blatant lie. “That’s absurd. I saw you not seven weeks ago.”

Y/N arches a disbelieving brow. “Yes, seven weeks ago. That’s a perfectly ordinary time to go without visiting your best friend even once, you traitor.”

Tewkesbury clasps a hand to his heart, feigning hurt. “Cruel. I have never once been a traitor to you.”

He doesn’t know that he could, now. He can’t imagine a world in which he is not following her around, either in endless loops around the London streets or in constant cycles of daydreams in which Tewkesbury is able to put an actual name to the emotions currently driving him mad.

Y/N grins. “I’m glad to hear it. I was worried for a second there, you know.”

“No you weren’t,” Tewkesbury laughs.

“Perhaps not,” Y/N says with an elaborate shrug, “but I like to keep you on your toes. It makes for a more dramatic weekend if we’re both slinging accusations left and right.”

“Not as fun, though,” he argues.

Y/N concedes this point through a solemn nod. “No, not as fun. I’ve never had to worry about fun with you, though.”

She looks up at him with a smile, and Tewkesbury thinks that his heart might explode out of his chest. He wants to say something, needs to say something, but all he can manage is–

“You know what would be fun? If you showed me how to make those paper crafts. I know you can do it, I’ve seen you make tons of stuff from paper before. It’s really cool, and I missed seeing you do it. I missed–”

He cuts off the hopeless flood of words before he can say something incriminating like that he missed her, but Tewkesbury gets the feeling that he’s already said too much. Also too little at the same time; Y/N promises him that they’ll get to make the paper shapes as requested, but he swears her face drops a little, like she could sense that there was something Tewkesbury was trying to say but just couldn’t manage. He wants to try again, but the words choke up his throat and he can’t get out a single syllable.

Instead, he contents himself with watching Y/N as they walk, how the sun dapples her skin with endless patterns of gold. He watches as they leave the streets as well, once they head for Y/N’s house down the block. Tewkesbury pushes the door open; it’s always been more of his home than any other corner or annex of his family place. This is where he feels at peace, and although he’s always thought that was just what came with finding a friend like Y/N, he’s starting to think that it could be more. That maybe they could be more.

It is a false hope, however, and one that will only serve to make him bleed, to rob the happiness from his chest whenever Tewkesbury looks over and sees Y/N. They are friends, compatriots, brethren in a war that all young children grown old must face at some point. Never have they been closer, and never has he wished that they could be closer still.

He’s caught staring as they head up the stairs, and he looks away hastily although the damage is done. Y/N laughs at the blush forming on his cheeks. Although Tewkesbury reacts by habit and shoves her with an outstretched, playful arm, he can’t seem to stop his hand from lingering there on her shoulder, fingers reaching as if to pluck some sort of love out of her through willpower alone.

He finds it not, though, and is forced to stay satisfied with smiling to himself and wondering if the rest of his life will be like this, just watching and hoping for a happy ending that may never come his way. Tewkesbury has always wanted something he could never have: a world outside of family rules, a universe that did not want him controlled, and now, worst of all, a love that should have stayed platonic. It is the cut that aches the most.

The moment is good, though. Y/N has always had this most peculiar skill when it comes to paper crafts, and Tewkesbury regards her now through lowered eyes. Her hands flit around the cut shapes, slicing off delicate corners and creasing folds until a simple note becomes a prancing pony, a soaring bird about to take flight around the room.

Tewkesbury shakes his head after she produces yet another paper marvel. “I don’t know how you do it,” he protests, “Show me, can’t you? Let’s make a flower or something.”

“Flowers have always been your favorite, haven’t they?” Y/N comments. She does as requested, although what are lovely narcissi and tulips in her hands turn into sadly wilted clumps of paper in his.

Tewkesbury just can’t figure out how she does it. Even after that particular day ends, he finds himself sitting in his room surrounded by heaps of useless folds, trying and failing to emulate her easy way with the paper crafts. One would think that Tewkesbury, with his lifetime of knowledge about every facet of flora there is to know, would be able to reproduce his beloved plants in paper form, but here you would be surprised.

Tewkesbury labors for hours, days even, but his progress is slow and totally frustrating. Y/N catches him at it a few times and laughs at him. The sound, so sharp it stings, carves a smile on Tewkesbury’s face even when he’s almost been driven to the point of madness by the infuriatingly unrealistic paper flowers.

He insists that Y/N show him a few more times, of course, but Tewkesbury can’t seem to pick up a single thing. Maybe that’s because he’s not really hearing but looking at his professor. The sunlight clings to her like a child, playing at her hair in ways that only golden beams can get away with in proper society. Despite Y/N’s protests that he really is getting better, Tewkesbury only thinks he’s getting better at one thing and one thing alone: falling harder for her.

Soon enough, he finds that he cannot go a day, cannot even draw a breath, without thinking about how much he loves Y/N. His room is dizzy and chaotic, the paper flowers piling up in the corners and spilling out of waste paper baskets. Tewkesbury’s hands are nicked by all the paper cuts he’s given himself by accident, and he finds his fingers keep twitching by his sides to run through the familiar folds and patterns as he goes by his days.

At some point, Tewkesbury looks up and realizes that he’s done it, mastered the things. They’re nothing compared to Y/N’s magic with them, of course, but they do the trick for now. An idea comes to him, and Tewkesbury carefully makes one pristine paper flower after another, all the types he knows by heart and some he has to consult in his books, too, just to get the right varieties.

Y/N is surprised when he presents them to her at first, this newsprint bouquet. Her eyes are enchanted and rove up and down the folded petals, the cut stems.

“You did all of this?” She asks, voice tinged with excitement.

Tewkesbury laughs. “You don’t have to seem so surprised. I was bound to get it at some point, you know.”

Y/N flashes him a grin in between her admirations of the paper flowers. “I never doubted you for a second, I swear it.”

He believes her, he always has. How is it that Tewkesbury can see straight through politicians and their lies, but yet find himself stumbling over Y/N’s every word? Every ounce of critical thought leaves his head in a blessed whirlpool the second she smiles at him. It is a problem that Tewkesbury refuses to solve.

A voice calls from behind him; Tewkesbury wasn’t able to stay for long today, only long enough to press the paper bouquet into Y/N’s hands and make her swear to look at it before he’s dashing back to the House of Lords again for the day’s work.

He doesn’t have to stay to make sure she’ll investigate, nor to discover what she finds. Soon enough, Y/N will be glancing over the paper creases and realize that not all of the flowers are made of newsprint. Some are made of notes, notes to her, notes that are at last able to explain all that Tewkesbury couldn’t put into words if he tried.

It’s a story about how a boy fell in love with a girl, how Tewkesbury is so lost on Y/N that he can’t think straight. Unable to help himself, he’s cataloged the flowers he’s made for her; camellias for longing, jasmine for sweet love, goldenrod so he’ll have luck in this, begonias so that even if she doesn’t feel the same way, he can at least thank her for all of the memories they made in the past years.

It might be the bravest thing he’s ever done. In truth, when Tewkesbury steps out of the reaches of Parliament for the day, he doesn’t know what to expect. In all his endless plotting and scheming about how to do this, he was never able to accurately sum up how Y/N might respond.

In the end, she surprises him. Tewkesbury enters the streets of London and there she is, waiting for him with a smile on her face unlike anything he’s ever seen before. Tewkesbury has prided himself on being able to place each one of her smiles in his memory, rank them on how happy she truly is, and this one blows all of the others away.

He walks to her, and they meet in the middle somewhere, both bursting with hopes finally answered.

“I love you too,” she says, “more than anything. More than you love me, I think.”

“Doubtful,” Tewkesbury replies, “I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to love more than I love you.”

She laughs. “I look forward to proving you wrong on that point.”

He looks forward to it, too. There are few things in life that can be described as going perfectly, but this, this is it. This is perfection itself, him and her and the glorious world stretching out around them. Nothing could be better.

requested by @thatfangirl42, i hope you enjoy!

enola holmes tag list: empty for now!

#tewkesbury #tewkesbury imagines #tewkesbury x reader #tewkesbury oneshot #enola holmes #enola holmes imagines #enola holmes x reader #enola holmes oneshot #enola holmes tewkesbury #enola holmes tewkesbury x reader #enola holmes tewkesbury oneshot

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andreafmn · 1 year

Text

Speak | Chapter 7

Word Count: 2.8K

Story Description: Bella Swan was a disaster when Edward had left. Deciding she needed a little help, Charlie Swan receives with open arms his younger daughter (Y/N) Swan. She helps Bella during her depression and becomes inseparable from her long-lost friend Jacob. What she didn’t expect was falling for a hotheaded short-tempered silver wolf.

Chapter: 7/?

A/N: I did it! I said I would post on Sunday and I finished. I was planning on making the chapter longer but decided on dividing the drama into another chapter. So, enjoy this bit of fluff for the time being 🤭🤭 My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing or buy me a coffee

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Chapter 7

Overlooked?

Inferior?

Played?

(Y/N) didn’t know what she was feeling. When she had woken the day after Christmas she had been saddened. The next few days, her turmoil had grown into confusion. Her mind had not stopped racing since that moment with Paul. Those few minutes had thrown her for a loop, wondering how a stranger had been more thoughtful than her own boyfriend, a boy she had known for the better part of her life.

Then, there were those dreams. Thoughts that spiraled through her head but they felt so real. The emotions that she experienced in those dreams felt real. But there was no way they could be. Jacob was the one she wanted, surely everything else was simply a fluke. A rip in the seams of the fabric of reality.

It didn’t matter that they barely talked about anything but Bella or him. Or that without those topics their conversations were short and meaningless. He did care for her, he always had. He had chosen to be with her kept replaying in her head. Words that had become a mantra of appeasement.

Maybe her head was playing tricks on her, but her eyes weren’t.

She went down the stairs, the smell of lunch dancing in her nose. Bella was already sitting on the dining table, spaced out and munching on a piece of bread. Yet it was not her sister that caught her attention, not even the fact that she had cooked that day. It was the bracelet that dangled from her wrist. A silver chain with a wood-carved wolf charm.

“Afternoon,” Bella muttered. “You’re up late.”

“I-is that what Jake gave you?” the girl croaked out, tears stinging the back of her eyes. “That bracelet. Was that his Christmas gift?”

“Oh,” Bella responded. “Yes. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Uh, yes, It’s very pretty,” she managed to say. “Can you excuse me for a second?”

Anger. That’s what she felt. Anger, envy, and absolute jealousy. And she was ready to let Jake know that he was the one responsible for what she felt. She needed to understand, she needed to hear from his mouth that it was truly her that he had chosen. Maybe just like her dreams of Paul, that gift had only been a fluke.

A knock on the door stopped her in her tracks as she headed back up the stairs to find her phone. Whoever was at her door had just saved Jake from starting the new year single. Instead, she clothed herself with a jacket to hide the pajamas she was wearing and went to the door. She had no idea who would be behind it.

“Paul,” she said as she swung the door open. (Y/N) was sure surprise was evident on her face as she felt her cheeks flush with blood. “Hi. What, um, what’re you doing here?”

“Hey. I’m supposed to check up on your sister, make sure everything’s alright,” Paul responded, his hand scratching the back of his neck. “Sam was the one that found her a couple of months ago in the woods and he asked me to come see how she was doing.”

“It seems everyone’s Bella’s biggest fan today.” She couldn’t help the roll of her eyes, the anger from that morning still fresh in her veins. “Sorry, that wasn’t really directed toward you.”

“Well, that was just my excuse to come here,” he grinned. “I needed a good enough reason to show up out of nowhere. Don’t tell your sister, but I wouldn’t come all this way to see her.”

“Then, why are you here, Mr. Lahote?” (Y/N) laughed. “Or do you frequently show up at people’s houses unannounced?”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s see, you showed up at my place today and you’ve gone to Jake’s house twice now.” His face went frigid as he remembered the first time he went to the Black residence, even worse that she knew about it. “Yes, I know how you told Jacob to stay away from me. Still haven’t been able to wrap my head around that.”

“Oh, that was,” he stammered. “It wasn’t… I mean, I wasn’t…”

“It’s fine, Paul. Honestly forgotten,” she grinned jokingly. “But what I do wanna know is why you’re here today. Now that I know you’re not here for my sister.”

“Uh, I was wondering if you wanted to, you know, hang out.”

“Hang out?”

“Yeah, if you weren’t doing anything, of course,” he chuckled awkwardly. “I thought maybe we could go to the beach or something.”

“In the middle of winter, the water will be freezing! As a matter of fact, I don’t know how you can be in jeans and a long-sleeve tee.

“I run quite hot,” he laughed. “But what do you say? Do you wanna hang out… w-with me?”

(Y/N) thought for a second. On one hand, she wanted to know who this person was. The boy that had gifted her such a thoughtful present without even knowing her name —at least, not formally. The same boy that had somehow made his way into each and every one of her dreams. On the other, Jake would grow crazy in anger at the mere fact that Paul was at her door. Luckily for the former boy, (Y/N) was feeling particularly angry with Jacob that morning.

“You know what? Why not?” she conceded. “Why don’t you come in while I get changed? Give me like twenty minutes, tops.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” he smiled. “Your dad won’t mind?”

“He’s at work right now and I doubt he’d allow me to leave you out here in the snow,” she laughed as she turned to go inside, very aware of Paul’s presence behind her. “Though, if he were here he would have made it very clear that he is the owner of a couple of guns.”

“Well, I’m glad he is not here then.”

“Help yourself to anything in the fridge or the kitchen. I’ll be back down in a bit.”

She disappeared up the stairs, a playful grin plastered on her face. Unlike with Jake, there was a calmness to Paul’s presence. Where her heart would race with uneasy nervousness when with Jacob, it remained a steady flutter with the Lahote boy. Another fluke, perhaps?

(Y/N) changed out of her pajamas as quickly as possible, her eyes trained on the dreamcatcher that hung above her bed. The rays of the morning sun were hitting the stones, reflecting a blue shine on the wall. The glittering light danced on the flat surface, filling the room with the same giddy energy she was already feeling.

There was excitement coursing through her and she didn’t understand the reason. She didn’t know why it had been so easy to say yes to Paul. Something deep inside her wanted to know more about him –know everything about him. It was the same part of her that felt something for him, the boy she only knew by name.

She gave her outfit a once over in the mirror. Her knitted sweater and blue jeans, even for the beach, did not feel good enough. But it would have to do. She knew that for some odd reason, nothing she wore would feel just right, because something –whatever it was—was concealing itself between their words.

“You ready to go?” (Y/N) asked as she came down the stairs wrapping a blue scarf around her neck.

“Yes, uh. You look…” he cleared his throat, stumbling as he stood from the sofa. “You look nice.”

“You flatter me, Paul,” she chuckled. “You sure you don’t want something more to cover up? I mean, you might run warm but you’re still human. I brought this sweater down, just in case. It’s the biggest one I have.”

“You know what, sure,” he smiled. Even from where he was standing he could tell it smelled like her and it would be a way to feel closer to her. “Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“Hope it fits.”

The sounds of their laughter mixed in the air, a perfect symphony of sounds swirling in the air. Paul struggled for a second to get the sweater past his shoulders, careful not to rip a single seam of the garment. It was snug to his body, slightly too tight with his own shirt under. But it smelled like her. All almond vanilla and pine.

“How do I look?”

“Like it’s a size too small,” she chuckled. “I can raid my dad’s closet for something that might fit better.”

“No, this is good,” he retorted. “I’m ready to go if you are.”

“Alright, then. Let’s.”

She followed him out of the house after making sure to leave a note for Bella and Charlie that she would be out. (Y/N) was sure Bella already knew. Her ever-present silence drowned the house with her sorrow. She was quiet, but she sure was always alert.

(Y/N) thought for a moment about what it was that she was doing once she found herself in Paul’s truck. As they drove out of Forks and into the reservation she wondered what her intentions were. Was she hoping Jake saw them? Hoping he was angered at the sight and finally confessed how he felt about her? Or was her curiosity toward Paul reason enough to be there with him?

The beach was deserted. Not many people dared to be out by the shore during the cold season, yet there they were. Paul rounded the car and helped her out. The simple gesture stretched a smile onto the girl’s face. It was something she had never expected from him. Then again, everything about him was new to her.

The sound of the waves filled the silence between them, the words unsaid dancing between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable but they were both itching to speak. Yet no words seemed good enough or right enough.

“So, what did you have in mind?” (Y/N) asked.

“Honestly. I didn’t think I would get this far,” he chuckled. “Don’t know what we could do.”

“Well then, we could start with a round of twenty questions,” she offered. “Seeing as we’re still strangers to each other.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They sat on a log of driftwood, ping-ponging questions back and forth. The questions were simple enough to begin with –favorite color, songs, food, etc.—as they established a natural flow to their conversation. Once the words had started spilling, the current moved swiftly. It was easy, it felt natural.

“Do you see yourself staying in Forks?”

(Y/N) thought for a moment. The town had always called to her. Although many would grow tired of the rain and the cold, she seemed to prefer it. But she had always been afraid she would feel stuck, just like her mother had.

“Honesty thing,” he said, stopping her rambling thoughts.

“I could,” she smiled softly. “As much as I would miss my mom and Phil, the spontaneity of living with them, and all that, living here –in small towns like these—it’s different. You don’t get a diner that knows your favorite food in a big city. You don’t get neighbors you’ve known your whole life or quiet walks around the woods either.”

“So, you’re planning on staying here, then?” Paul asked, a bright gleam filling his eyes. “Even after Bella gets better?”

“I think, it’s my turn to ask a question,” she laughed. “Unless you’re planning on forfeiting your last question with that.”

“Alright, this is your last question,” he smiled. “Choose wisely.”

“Why did you ask me to hang out if you didn’t have anything planned for us to do?”

“Honesty thing?”

He smiled at the phrase. It had become a prevalent sentence as they each answered questions. (Y/N) had been the first one to say it as she asked about his high school days. She’d asked him to go do the “honesty thing,” which he had laughed at. But she explained that if either of them said that question, the other would give a truthful answer.

“Honesty thing.”

“Didn’t think you would say yes.”

“Why not?”

He didn’t have a good enough reason to give her. There was Jake, but that was obvious. The unfortunate overbearing boyfriend that simply did not deserve her. But he couldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t bring himself to let her know that the universe had decided that they would be bonded for life, whether it was what they wanted or not. He didn’t want to bring her into the supernatural world and end up with a worse fate than her sister. She deserved the truth, but it was not something he could give her. At least, not yet.

“You know, the whole Jake thing,” he chose to answer. “He doesn’t seem to like me much, and the feeling’s mutual. Don’t think he’d be very happy if he knew we were together right now.”

“I don’t get why you two don’t like each other,” she muttered. “And I guess the whole ‘stay away from her’ deal won’t help to mend that.”

“Well…”

“I won’t get in the middle of that pissing party,” she laughed. “But I do want to know why you felt inclined to say that.”

“I could answer that, but is my turn to ask a question, is it not?” Paul joined her in laughter.

“Fine. Go ahead.”

“What do you see in Jacob?” he mumbled. “Honesty thing.”

And what could she say at that when she didn’t even know? She had liked him since she knew what that meant. He was the boy that had first made her feel butterflies in her stomach. The first boy she wanted to kiss, to hug, to be as close as possible. She just didn’t know why.

Jacob had always been there. Every single summer, he was a constant in her life and he’d somehow made his way into her heart. One second he was just her friend, and the other he was just there. And she believed he always would be.

“I guess it was simply inevitable,” she breathed. “We basically grew up together. We’ve shared so many moments and experiences that I guess it was the natural way of things.”

“You’re saying it just happened then? No actual reason to be with him?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought of it before,” she sighed. “He’s always been kind and charming. He’s a good guy with a good heart. Maybe that’s what I see in him.”

“Hm,” was all Paul could answer.

“What?” (Y/N) chuckled questioningly. “What, Paul?”

“Not my place to say,” he said gazing into her eyes. He stared at the way the orange sun painted her face with a graceful glow, the way her hair danced around her face with the wind, the way he’d mouth stretched into a perfect smile. “But to answer why I felt inclined to tell Jake to stay away from you, it’s because he doesn’t deserve someone like you.”

“And who is someone like me?”

“You’re selfless, you’re compassionate, you’re everything he is not, (Y/N),” he told her. “You really are a good person with a good heart.”

“How could you know that, Paul? You’ve known me no more than a couple of hours.”

“You left your whole life behind to be with your sister while she’s going through a hard time. You’ve been taking care of your dad at the same time as keeping your mom sane with everything that’s been going on with Bella,” he counted. “You even told me how your mom almost took away your license when you started to drive because you crashed a car to avoid hitting some rabbits. I don’t know of many people that would do that.”

“And Jacob doesn’t deserve someone like that?”

“Maybe someone like that,” he responded as his stare grew serious. “But not you.”

(Y/N) didn’t know what the feeling that was growing in her meant. She could feel a comforting warmth filling her body, embracing her fears and her worries. She knew she should have defended Jacob. Told Paul all the good qualities her boyfriend had and what it was that she loved about him. Yet, the words felt stuck in her throat and they refused to come out.

“Are you hungry?” (Y/N) blurted. “I could go for some food right now.”

“(Y/N)…”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

Paul looked into her eyes and saw just how desperate she was to change the topic. She was being faced with some realities she did not want to think of and it had been because of him. He was making her question things she would have never done so.

But he knew it was torturing her. He could feel it. “There’s a good place down the street we could go to,” he said instead. “I am hungry as well.”

“Alright, let’s go there then.”

Next ->

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unicorncornflakes · 7 months

Text

Summer Isles - Modern!Aemond x Reader | Chapter 2

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: After two years in the Summer Isles, Aemond returns from his international stay during his doctorate ready to be with the girl he left Westeros for.

Tags: Alternate Universe – Modern/ Setting Emotional Hurt/ Comfort/ Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: Not at this moment, maybe later :P This is the best I can write these days, sorry :(

General Tag-List (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know): @thedamewithabook @bluevxnus @hiddencurator @tempt-ress @watercolorskyy @tsujifreya @qyburnsghost

Tag-List for this series (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know): @snh96 @thetrueblackheart @zenka69 @darkenchantress

Author´s note: Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: 3.4K

Aemond returned to pay for a cigarette without having barely taken a couple of drags. It was the third cigarette that he put out discouraged at that party. He knew that some of Aegon's friends were trying to be nice, asking him how his time in the Summer Isles had been... trying to be nice, most of them, not all.

He had been terribly grateful for their attitude to all those who had ignored him. It was the best they could do. Especially when Aemond had tried, without much success, to smoke a quiet cigarette on the huge terrace of Aegon's new bachelor pad. Because that's what it was. It even had a swimming pool. The damn terrace had a pool that he was sure Aegon wouldn't use with just you.

He looked at the cigarette crushed against one of the flower pots on the terrace and leaned against the wall without much encouragement. He assumed you were supposed to be with Aegon. He hadn't seen you again all night and he regretted taking the first flight. He had only done it to impress you, as if that act of love could erase the fact that he hadn't texted to you in two years. He had been a terrible friend all that time. He had also been the friend in love and scorned.

“There is a terrace in Aegon's room too. I know how much it bothers you that you can't have a cigarette when you're stressed.” Helaena approached her brother and leaned against the same wall, looking at the sky. “I don't think it's going to take much longer for the fireworks to appear. After them, you can go home without looking rude” his sister smiled sweetly. Aemond prepared to enter the house again and go to Aegon's room, the same one that you would share with him that same night. “But, I know you're not here to see the fireworks.” Helaena looked back ahead, just after giving her brother a sideways glance.

“Hmm,” was all Aemond sighed as he walked back into the house. There he saw Aegon lying on a couch with a couple of his friends. There was not a single trace of you. Aemond had thought you would be at the party with him. Unnoticed, he tried to look for you with his one eye, but all he could find were drunk or high people. Maybe... you were in the bathroom, why wouldn't you be with your boyfriend on a night like that?

Aemond walked the entire hallway in silence. He took a cigarette from the barely opened package as he walked through it. All full of quite contemporary paintings. He thought his brother had finally learned to value that kind of thing, or surely it had been you. The one-eyed man knew that it was better to contribute for the second option. Aegon wasn't all that refined about that sort of thing, but you were. You always had been, that's why he had always thought you were the perfect girl for him.

He went to reach for the doorknob to Aegon's room when he heard barking inside. They were powerful, a big dog. “Shhh, Sunfyre, now, now. Stop” He heard your voice and Aemond flung open the door, almost worried that something was happening to you.

As soon as he opened the door, he found you on a pile of coats on top of Aegon's bed. A young Doberman puppy was jumping on top of you. Licking your face. He must have been almost a year old, but the youth of a young dog still shone in his eyes. He was almost as big as you and the dog could only wag his stump of a tail as he watched Aemond open the door. He ran towards the Targaryen.

“No, please, don't let him escape,” you squealed in amusement at Aemond and he only stopped you with a quick movement of his leg, closing the door behind him. "Thank you. I don't even want to think about having to chase him around the party again” you smiled as you grabbed the dog's leather collar and Aemond's heart just melted.

I'm in love with you. It was the only thing that was going through his mind, what he wanted to scream at you.

You continued grabbing the dog and locked him in the bathroom, leaving him jumping on the glass door of the bathroom. “He's always scared by fireworks,” you tried to smile while the dog filled the glass of the bathroom door with fog and drool. You sighed tiredly and looked at Aemond with a sweet half smile. “He destroyed your cigarette,” you laughed, pointing to the destroyed cigarette in his hand just as he had stopped the dog and he could only sigh as he took another one out of the package. “How come you're not at the party?” you told him as you turned and walked out the door to the small terrace of the bedroom. You simply sat down in one of the two chairs there and were grateful to stretch out while you loosened all the bones and muscles in your body after a long day of work.

“I need a quiet smoke” was all he told you as he took the zippo out of his front pocket and sat down next to you in the other chair. He took a couple of drags while the flame of that Zippo continued to feed the cigarette fire.

“You still have it,” you stated. It was not a question, but a statement. He handed you the old Zippo as he blew out the smoke from the last puff again. You bit your lower lip, suppressing a satisfied smile. That meant so much to you. You were amazed that Aemond still maintained something like that.

“Well, I have modified it slightly,” he confessed to you as you passed by the Targaryen shield engraved on one of the sides of the lighter. Your perfect fingers caressed him with great care while Aemond smiled pleased. “It was your father's fault that he started smoking. The least I could do was keep the lighter he gave me.”

“Yeah, sure, blame my dad for starting smoking,” you laughed. He resists you, precious, and Aemond felt his entire heart melt. How could you be so perfect? “He only left you the lighter because you had forgotten it at home,” you rolled your eyes in amusement, remembering that night in your own adolescence.

“And because of him that night I didn't stop smoking. If it hadn't been for that saint, that poor young man wouldn't have smoked a single cigarette that night."

A couple of days later, he had tried to return the lighter to your father. He never confessed it to you, but the man just looked at him with sympathy as he cleaned his hands after fixing one of Daemon's many cars. His personal mechanic, that was what his uncle had called him, and how he still was even in those days, although he was already close to retirement age. “Keep it, boy,” he smiled as he opened a beer during work hours in his workshop and offered it to Aemond, who rejected it with a polite wave of his hand. “I have many lighters. One more, one less, it's not going to make a difference,” he responded with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Yeah, but it's a Zippo,” Aemond said, almost embarrassed, when he offered it to him again. He knew they weren't cheap. Your family didn't have as much money as his. They would never have it. With his weekly allowance, he could buy four Zippos and still have money left over to take you out to dinner. Your father smiled tiredly and looked right at the entrance to the workshop. You were sitting on the sidewalk, watching the bikes, yours and Aemond's. Although your father knew that you were not a stupid girl. You had sent Aemond to return the lighter because you just wanted to know one thing.

“I liked the way she looked at you,” your father whispered in a knowing tone. Aemond looked at him strangely when he said those words and your father pointed his head at you. “I liked the way she looked at you when you wore it. Keep it,” he asked again as he returned to work. “But don't tell your uncle that I gave it to you,” he said as he crouched down to get under a car again. “It was a gift from him,” he added, but Aemond was no longer listening to anything your father said.

His heart was just pounding. He was then 17 years old. He was a couple of months older than you and couldn't believe your father's words. How had you looked at it? How? He couldn't stop turning that fantasy over in his head. And if… and if, were you interested in him too? As much as he was for you?

Your father heard him running in your direction and came out from under the car. He saw you both go together, pedaling. He knew that that afternoon you had agreed to see an exhibition at the cultural center of that small city. He took another sip of his beer. Fresh always came in better, but he couldn't stop looking at you.

That was the kind of boy he wanted for you. A boy with ambitions, studious, educated, who was looking to have a future. Aemond Targaryen was everything your father wanted for you, even though he had taken up smoking. We all had our flaws, but Aemond was perfect in your father's eyes and he had always found it cute how your cheeks would blush when you talked about him.

"How is he?" he asked you after a comfortable silence. You looked at him as if you didn't know what you were talking about. “Your father, I mean.”

"Oh, good. Great. Working hard, as always” you smiled at him as you leaned back in your chair. The truth was that your father had been terribly angry because Aegon had been late to his birthday party. You knew that he didn't like him, that neither of them really liked each other, but your father had tried to break the ice that existed in their icy relationship by finally inviting him to his birthday party. Aegon had shown up three hours later, relaxed and with a smile from ear to ear, as if provoking was always with him. Your father had asked you not to invite him to anything related to the family again. That was something you hadn't discussed with Aegon. You knew how it was going to be with your boyfriend and you knew that he would say again that all that was because he wasn't Aemond. Jealousy rarely came to the fore, but it always did in Aegon's relationship with your father. That was stupid. Your father didn't care who you dated, or so you thought.

“I should go see him to check the belt on the Mustang,” Aemond smiled at you and you smiled back shyly. Yes, that was just what your father needed to despise Aegon even more, knowing that Aemond was back. “Why aren’t you at the party?” He asked you sincerely while you curled up, taking off your shoes on the lounge chair that you considered your place on that small terrace.

“The truth is that I ended up terribly tired today,” you said without much encouragement, as if all your good humor had vanished, as if you didn't have to pretend that you were fine. That was Aemond's great magic. You didn't have to pretend. Sometimes it was stressful how much you pretended to be in Aegon's presence, as if his always carefree nature led you to it, as if you had to hide what you really felt for the sake of the relationship. “And I don't want to have to put up with Aegon's 'friends',” you confessed, as if not a single day had passed since you had last seen him. Because those were the great friendships, the ones that no matter how much time passed, you always spoke as if you had seen each other the day before.

“Yes, I thought I saw Cass Baratheon at the party,” Aemond laughed, taking a drag and you narrowed your eyes tired, but amused.

“I can't stand her. I've tried, but I can't stand it” you waved your arms and Aemond smiled.

“Don't worry, I can't stand Maris,” he responded with a shrug. He still remembered how she had laughed at his lack of manliness after the fight with Luke in their last year of high school.

"They are unbearable. Daddy’s girls” you replied, looking back up at the night sky and Aemond couldn’t stop looking at you. You were still as beautiful as when you were gone. Just as perfect. That conversation reminded him of the old days, when you were still nothing more than two kids who talked about the absurd things that happened to you in class.

Silence settled between you again. You were too tired to notice, but Aemond hadn't stopped looking at you for a single moment. He imagined that this was how he wanted to spend the rest of his days. With you. After a hard day of work, the two of them together. He saw you pass your hand over your cervical spine, grimacing painfully, but you stretched again. He finished his cigarette and in an irresponsible act threw it over the terrace. “Aemond!” You scolded him, almost amused, and he sat next to you in that armchair.

You never said anything, but the proximity of his body, in such an intimate context, made you feel slightly uncomfortable. But, it only made you feel that way, because you were dating Aegon and yet you were liking Aemond's proximity. You crossed your legs trying to find a new position in that chair and he just placed you against him. “Stand up straight,” he whispered to you and all the hair on your body stood up.

“Really, it's not necessary…” everything you were going to say died in a pleasant moan that escaped your lips as Aemond began to massage your neck. “Fuck…” you whispered under your breath and Aemond smiled again.

“I'm glad it wasn't necessary,” he responded while massaging a cervical spine that was terribly burdened by the stress accumulated over weeks. You continued to make little moans of pleasure which Aemond found adorable. That's what you needed, to be taken care of, to be pampered... and Aemond was back to do it. He had done a lot of reflecting during those two rather lonely years on the Summer Isles.

He saw the strap of your bra and slowly added it, as if he were trying to make you enjoy it. He licked his lips. He was going to kiss your bare shoulders first, then continue down your neck, and finally end up on your mouth. “Thank you for the massage. It was very good” you replied as you turned to look at him again, while you raised the strap of your bra back to your shoulders.

“Yes, it was good” he pursed his lips and looked at the ground again. He had to have been an asshole who had stayed silent while he imagined him kissing the neck of the girl of his dreams. “(Y/N), I…” he started saying. That was the moment. He couldn't put it off any longer. He did not want to. You were both alone at that party. It was like old times. Completely the same. What was stopping you from being together? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Aemond thought about Aegon, but he ignored you at best. He had thrown that party without thinking that you might be tired.

“Helaena told me that you have gotten a job at the University of King's Landing” you changed the subject and you could only see the disappointment on his face. You weren't prepared for what he wanted to confess. You weren't a stupid girl. But, Aemond had had his chance many years ago. He had only broken your heart by starting to date Alys, who was then your best friend, and after breaking up with her he, had run away to the summer islands, where he had not written you a single message, not once. You could tell what was going through his mind. You knew him well, or at least you had known him well before he went on that international stay that had lengthened the unspeakable. You didn't know if you were ready to hear I love you from his lips. Maybe you'd never be again. “I'm very happy that you are achieving everything you set out to do,” you smiled sincerely, because you were really happy that he was achieving what he had set out to do.

“Yes, it's a good position,” he whispered, as he took out a cigarette and lit it again. “I think that in three years I will be able to direct the History department,” he responded while settling down next to you in that chair that was clearly for only one person. You knew he was only saying that to impress you. Aemond's way of flirting had always been that, but you were with Aegon. You had chosen him two years ago. Just like Aemond had chosen Alys.

He grabbed your legs and lifted them onto his lap. Why had he had to choose Alys? Why? You would have been a great couple. You couldn't deny the chemistry that had always existed between the two of you. That simple conversation had reactivated it, as if you no longer knew what you wanted, because you didn't. You had never known it. “I guess… I'll look for an apartment in the city and drive to the university. It is not far. Only half an hour"

“You always wanted to return to the capital…” you said, not daring to look at him.

“There…there is someone who ties me to this place. For the only reason that I have returned after two years…” there was the confession. You didn't want to hear it. You couldn't hear it. Not now. Not when your whole world was crumbling around you, it almost seemed as if Aemond had waited for that moment to confess. At the moment when you were weakest and most vulnerable. "I…"

“Hey, I was looking for you, what are you two doing alone so far from the party?” Aegon just appeared there, still with a glass in his hand. He approached the two of you and you smiled at him, while Aemond thought of a thousand ways to kill him for that interruption. “You look beautiful,” he whispered to you as he grabbed the necklace Aemond had brought you. “Are you tired after work?” he whispered to you again, creating an intimate atmosphere in which Aemond was not invited.

“Yes, I'm quite tired,” you replied while he brushed his nose with yours, in a gesture that implied more tenderness than Aemond had imagined your relationship. He gave you several quick pecks. Kisses that made you laugh between each one of them. He whispered something to you that made you laugh, and Aemond began to feel uncomfortable, more and more.

“Oh, Aemond, Alys gave me my regards to you. I was shopping and I found her by chance” he said sounding completely innocent, but Aemond knew why he had said it, why he had said it right in front of you. As Aemond was about to answer, the first firework appeared in the sky and Aegon hugged your shoulders while you continued to sit. “I love fireworks,” he whispered and your heart sank.

You had never liked fireworks. They would never do it. Another exploded into the sky again and Aegon grabbed you tighter. While smiling. You didn't want to look at Aemond, but you knew he wasn't watching the fireworks. His head was very far away, almost as far away as yours.

But you both thought it wasn't fair. Aemond thought it wasn't fair for you to give your love to Aegon. You kept thinking that it wasn't fair that Aemond wanted to come back to confess something that you both had always known. Neither situation was fair to anyone. And in it, there were only losers.

#aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen modern au #aemond modern au #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader

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frog-man-moments · 24 days

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Villain agent 8 au: UPDATED

(this is my silly little idea for a villain agent 8, i have been talking to @flamingskull28 about it and he even gave me a couple of idea's for the au so major thanks to him)[also thanks to @lbodraws for some inspiration and @joltthewolf for making a v8 edit)

During the fight with smollusk, smollusk in an effort to turn the tides of battle aims for an weakened agent 4, which ends of killing her. .This sends agent 8 into a frenzy which leads to her killing smollusk in a fit of grief.

After escaping the memverse agent 8 locks herself away as she is unable to comprehend four's death. Pearl and Marina try to reach out to agent 8 but 8 kept pushing them away. Pearl and Marina feel like failures of parents after everything is over.

Marina and pearl are the ones who have to deliver the bad news to the NSS, all of them are distraught but this news hits marie the hardest alongside eight, as marie always viewed four as their child . However while marie accepted and grieved fours death, agent 8 was unable to process it. Eight could not accept four's death and just kept denying and denying. Agent 8 took an orange inkling plushie four gave her and began talking to it. She talked to it like agent 4 and held it constantly with her making her crazy and further denying fours death.

Until she had an epiphany, the memverse had the power to mess with souls, eight began to wonder what else the memverse could do.

This line of thinking brought her to wonder if she could use the memverse to bring back agent 4. She brought this idea up to marina however she told eight that she believed eight should accept four's death and to try to move on, unsure if resurrection could even work. This caused eight to go behind marinas back to try and execute her plan. 8 begins to study souls in hopes of finding a way to bring four back. This causes damage to the souls she's studying and makes marina get involved. Eight falling into madness didn't care, all she cared about was getting four back.

Eight brainwashed marina to get her out of the way and to get her help. 8 also kinda blamed marina for fours death for creating the memverse and smollusk in the first place. Parallel cannon in this au is eights first attempt to bring four back. However instead of resurrecting agent 4, it made a clone of her. PC feels useless and rejected as their sole purpose was to be love/ be a lover and the person they were supposed to love rejected them.

Marina wasn't the only person to get brainwashed. agent 8 was still angry and wanted someone to take their anger out on so she turn to shiver.

shortly before the events of splat 2 agent 4 and shiver were at their worst mentally. they were both 14 and dealing with a lot and not dealing with it well. so when they both met they jumped into a relationship without thinking.

They both had attachment and abandonment issues. So when the other partner would spend too much time away with friends or even a day away from the other, the partner "left behind" would get very upset, usually resulting in an argument. they both did this as they were co-dependent on each other.

it was only after a really bad argument did agent 4 leave. I left shiver feeling really guilty as she did love four and still had feelings for her.

so when she saw agent 4 during splat 3 she wanted to get back with her. But she saw agent 8 as a cheap copy of her and always tried to start drama with her.

so agent 8 brainwashed shiver as a form a revenge for her past actions( even though her and agent 4 were equally bad back then) and basically turned her into a second parallel cannon and was assigned to guard marina while the real PC was made to guard her.

Eight's attempts to bring four back is causing four pain in the afterlife. Four even temporarily contacts eight to tell her to stop because shes hurting her. However eight does not listen deciding four doesn't know what's good for her.

(v8 design made by @joltthewolf)

Eight eventually discovers a way to bring four back. In order to bring a person back it requires hundreds of souls to be sacrificed in order to bring a person back. This ritual is very painful for the person being brought back.

It ends up being marie who has to climb the tower to take down eight as see can relate to being hit very hard by fours death. she is accompanied by callie drone.

Things are mostly the same but some things are different. Mainly PC and the finale boss.

Marie would finding PC in a state of sadness. They still try to fight but they are clearly in pain. Marie decides to take PC with her and PC opens up to Marie about how they feel, they feel rejected and alone. They feel useless and afraid and it breaks Marie's heart since four had similar feelings before they died.

Marie and PC's relationship to be similar to Pearl and steven's earlier relationship, even having a "WHY WON'T YOU LET ME DO THIS FOR YOU ROSE?!" type moment. PC has a journey of self-discovery while Marie learns that PC is their own person and more than just a clone.

agent 8 's fight would be a mix of soul of sectonia and order.(including a phase where 8's head pops off) agent 8 would start out small and the first phases would be hard but manageable. But when she turns big mode you are going to have start praying as you will have to deal with brutal attacks and a difficult envoirment.

There are 3 possible endings for this au

Good ending: marie takes 8 down and drags her our of the memverse. Eight ends up getting help to process four's death. fairly simple.

Resurrected good ending: eight is successful in bringing four back but is still taken down. four is mortified by what her lover has done. hundreds of people are now souless and she was dead and brought back. four breaks up with eight which breaks her even more(she does get better)

Resurrected bad ending: eight brings back four and kicks the other agent's out of the memverse. She creates and ai to wipe her and fours memories every couple of years and to create adventures for her and four to enjoy. She and four go on adventures for a while unaware of everything that happened. until the NSS enter the memverse and stop the temporarily ai and bring back four and eights memories. 8 and 4 are overwhelmed by the past. Eight is horrified by what shes done while four is trying to comprehend the fact they died and came back to life. they have the option to either go to the real world or continue living the lie

#agent 4 #agent 8 #agent 32 #marie #mom marie #callie #splatoon #frog-man posting #splatoon side order #smollusk #splatoon 3 #villain agent 8 #villain agent 8 au #sh4ver #shiver hohojiro

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fillinforlater · 10 months

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WICKED LOVER

Female Reader x Choi Yena

Length: 2791 words

Tags: intense dancing, very hot choreography, wicked love, lesbian sex, rough sex, finger fucking, clit stimulation, face sitting, abs worship, marking, scratches, a bit of shaming, mentions of toxic relationships, freaky kinks, wicked_lover!Yena / dancer!You

TW: mentions of blood by scratches + toxic relationships; I guess shaming

Inspiration: "WICKED LOVE" by Yena, especially the Dance Practice (I have watched it like 30 times for this fic, fuuuuuuck)

youtube

(A/N: female reader bfh that came out of nowhere. Yena had no business being this freaky for her pre-release. (BTW: the title of her actual title track is also quite inspiring...))

“You are going to do the part during the bridge with me.”

Rumor has it that Yena had a break-up before writing this song. Although it has not leaked out into the general public, the message of the song should even get the most delusional or densest fans thinking. However, inside the company building, everyone knows that there's more to the story.

Yena’s relationship was wild, toxic and violent. She and her lover grew from being extremely close and intimate, something the company struggled to hide, to avoiding each other because of the drama that would unfold if they locked eyes. Somehow, they still found ways to make up, but after a few months nothing could salvage this relationship anymore.

As a dancer who regularly works for the same label as Yena, you remember passing Yena’s studio and hearing the vile insults they would throw at each other, audible even through the thick walls. An hour later you’d pass the same door and hear her moans and screams of pleasure. You never dared to peek inside; it would have fueled your envy.

“S-sure,” you answer the imposing idol standing in the midst of the dance practice room, surrounded by dancers just like you who had hoped to be assigned the same part. “I’ll give it my all.”

“Stay after the main practice,” Yena adds in the same stern, professional tone. “I might want to change it up a bit.”

You lock eyes with her through the mirror and nod. The perfect length for eye contact is supposed to be 3.3 seconds, but why is it that Yena makes you weak in less than half of that? If you’d really focused on her for 3.3 seconds, you’d lose your footing and would have to admit that there was more than adoration for her success and (not anymore) adorable visuals.

Through all the curses you’ve heard her scream when there are no cameras, through the rumors of her leaving scratches all over her former lover's face, through the thought of her maybe being the more toxic partner, you’ve continuously grown more obsessed with Yena. You are not better than all those delusional fans out there.

Well, you might not be better, but you are a lot closer now. The rest of the dancers have left the room. The track is still in loop, so you and Yena continue to dance as if it was a normal practice up until the bridge. Luckily, dancing always pulls you into a powerful trance in which you can escape the hold Yena has on your fragile heart. Even when the two of you are close to each other, even when her hands are on your body, hell, even when she tears off your top, the music keeps you going.

However, it’s a lot different now.

During the first part of the choreo, Yena positions herself and you do a couple of quick movements around her. Then the two of you start facing each other, showing off something like an intimate fight before smoothly switching to the finale where Yena circles your body with her arms three times—untils she rips the black top apart.

The moment you start to face Yena, you can see or rather feel how the choreo has changed. Yena is a lot closer, she is literally pressing her chest into yours and moves her knee up to reach your core in between your legs. Doing the hand motions becomes difficult, especially Yena continues to have this dull, bored expression on her face, like it’s just practice.

Yena’s cheek really touches the palm of your hand and you almost forget to continue, your spin out of her imminent reach is amateur-like. You almost stumble when Yena gets on one knee, grabs your lower leg, quickly brushes up your body to grab your waist and then, with perfect timing, destroys your top with a single pull.

The tatters fall from your chest, shoulders, arms. Your breath is heavy and your face is red—not due to dancing anymore. Without a care in the world, Yena hurries towards her phone and stops the music.

“What do you think?” Yena asks, her hands on her hips, her breaths deep, her eyes a bit softer. “Are these changes good?”

You’re frozen in the final pose. The white crop-top with its spaghetti strings suddenly feels too revealing, so you hide yourself with both your arms, unable to truly understand what just occurred.

“Uhm, I-I think it’s good. It adds to the, uhm, intensity of the br-bridge?” you ask, hair and words in a mess, then your heartbeat as well when Yena approaches you again, the track already booming once more.

“I think so as well,” she whispers. “Let’s try it again.”

The two of you get in position. When your muscle memory kicks in, you remember that she just shredded the top and now you’re more exposed and vulnerable to her than ever before. But it’s too late to change it now, the bridge has already started.

This time, Yena is even bolder. Her face seems to go in for a kiss during the second part before she pushes you away and then pulls you back in with her aura, her scent for the finale, which is now way too intimate. From your leg, her hand intentionally rubs over your folds, then grabs the hem of your baggy pants to slightly tug them down and the moment you shoot your hand up to leave your backside wide open, Yena—

“Ah, fuck!”

You scream out in pain. Yena’s painted nails pierce into your skin and mercilessly dig through it up to your neck. You throw your head back as you feel tiny veins burst and droplets of blood leak out of the fresh wounds. Sink into Yena whose arms have not yet left your nape.

“What about this?” she asks with a lewd smirk. “I think it brings out all the intimate anger from the lyrics.”

You nod, eyes narrowed in pain. Yena looks at the mirror and eyes your back. She immediately removes her hands and gasps.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry! I didn’t want it to be, like—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you hiss and look into her eyes, level with yours, an inch away from yours, she looks so into it, so needy—

That is more than 3.3 seconds. Your legs melt like butter, your chin falls to Yena’s chest. She not only looks bigger than you, her soft pillows are more voluptuous and the tight crop-top is perfect for showing it off.

“We should…” Yena hums, her voice deeper than ever, her hands deep in your hair at this point.

“W-we should fu—” you try to finish the sentence, but she is too fast.

“We should go for a final attempt. There is something I still want to change.”

The looped track is at the second chorus. You need to push all love and lewd thoughts and tension and pent up stress and the feeling of Yena’s boobs out of your mind. The tug she gave your pants shows a string of your thong, your hair is disheveled, your eyes spin, your muscles try to follow the rhythm but there is no need to follow it. The bridge has already started.

Yena is off beat, grazing your jaw with her lips before spinning you around with her own two hands. Those same hands grab your leg, feel everything up to your inner thigh and even pull at the string of your thong. You’re about to explode, but Yena isn’t done yet. Her sweaty palms rub over your sweatier sides, grab both your top and bra and pull them over your skyward arms.

Your heart skips a trillion and one beats when you see through your messy hair that Yena has her eyes closed and lips sucking your lower lip, fingers on your breasts, cupping, poking. You fall backwards, the mirror catching you after a couple of steps. Its cold surface meets your scars, you groan at the ease in pain, the increasing pain, whatever it is, you don’t care.

“Yena, I—”

“No words, nothing.”

Yena pulls down your pants, fiddles with the string of your thong before putting her hand into the front. She sighs a little and you open your eyes to find yourself in the mirror, flushed in red with excitement, confusion and arousal.

“From now on you will shave,” she commands, lips inching towards your ear. She adds, her voice in a husky whisper: “And you will only wear the thongs I give you. I think my pretty girl understands.”

“Y-yes, Yena,” you moan as she rubs your labia.

“Good.

“Now, let’s get into the storage room.”

Yena starts to circle your entrance while guiding you towards the storage room's door. You were always confused why it was lockable from the inside. Now it makes sense. What also makes sense is the big box with pillows, dresses and stage outfits Yena empties onto the floor before pushing you into it. It’s soft, a worthy replacement for a bed.

“Get those off,” Yena groans but her hands are a lot quicker at undressing your pants than yours. “Spread your legs.”

Open shaky knees slowly. Yena is a lot less hesitant, her fingers pushing away your thong and going straight into your pussy. When she curls them upwards, your feet shoot upwards as well. When she thrusts them in and out, you move the same way to engulf them. When she starts to moan—well, you’re already moaning louder than her.

“Fuck, that’s just two fingers,” Yena groans her complain out loudly, not louder than your moans, but she makes sure you learn that she is in control of your neediness. “What if I actually make you cum with just these two, huh?”

“Ye-Yena, I—”

“No words.”

Yena puts the palm of her hand on your mouth, sealing it shut. The only way to get air is to breathe through your nose, the only way to voice your pleasure is by frantically swinging your legs through the air. However, Yena seems to be amused by your struggle to breathe coherently or release your tension. Feverishly, she starts to pump her fingers in and out of your cunt, while her thumb pokes your clit again and again.

“Are you really going to cum just like that?” Yena huffs and rolls her eyes. “God, I haven’t even undressed and you’re already this weak. I bet the fucking filthiest of my fans would do better than you.”

There is this ounce of pride in you that wants to fight back and argue that you are definitely not on the same level as those creeps lewding her, but in all honesty, you also don’t. Yena is so right, you are wet for her, your soft walls milking her two fingers like you need to do it for your survival. Your hands are free to do everything, you could push her arm away or put yourself upright, but they flop around uselessly, like weak straws.

“Now—”

Yena removes her hand from your whimpering mouth and puts it on the hem of her crop top.

“—I want you to cum, perfect little girl.”

With a single pull, she gets the tight piece of clothes over her surprisingly big, bra-covered breasts and you get to see something all her fans can only dream off. Too bad you are just too weak, her upwards-downwards curling fingers stretching your cunt and her left-right flicking thumb have you on the edge and with a final, painfully hard push, you start to cum all over her arm.

“Oh, so hot,” Yena groans as your juices run over her skin. “It’s so sticky—did I tell you that you smell fucking lewd? Just from your sweat while dancing, I knew you’d smell perfect down here as well.”

Yena blows on your sore pussy when she pulls out her soaked fingers. The final spurts of your arousal leak onto the stage outfits below, but Yena does not give a fuck. Rather, she continues faster than your orgasm-shaken brain can react. Her face hovers above yours, it looks like she is about to take you missionary—if only she could.

“The next time, when you are shaven,” Yena whispers, cum-covered hand creeping over your chest to your chin. “I’ll fuck just like this. I’ll make you cry with nothing but my pussy. I bet you’re yearning for it already.”

You nod mindlessly before sucking yourself from her fingers. Yena is right, everything about you is lewd, so you might as well make a lewd expression while cleaning each of her fingers individually, then lapping off the rest from her palm. Her expression changes from a fascinated smirk to something a lot more sinister. Suddenly, she pulls your hair while trying to get out of her own pants.

“I know you want it, but I’m not going to give it to you. I’m just going to use your slutty little face to fuck myself and you’re going to be a good, perfect little girl. You will do the fucking things I say.”

“Y-yes, Yena.”

Wordlessly, Yena stands up and finally rids herself of all her garments. When her panties fall, you immediately want her crotch to be closer, but it comes a bit too close. Though the light is dim in the storage room, Yena makes sure that you can see her shaven pussy, her folds, her ass upclose when she starts to sit on your face.

“Stick your fucking tongue out!”

Yena starts to moan loud and deep and louder and deeper when she rubs her labia on your nose and her clit on your tongue. She is incredibly wet, dripping on your face and making you more than a sweaty mess. All your eyes see is her subtle ass ripple as Yena goes faster, her clit chasing for more stimulation from your mouth.

A sudden sting on your sides fills you with pain. It feels like you are bleeding again, but this time Yena's nails feel intentionally torturous. Right above your hip bones she is leaving scratches, as if she is a tiger attacking and slashing you. You try to show your pain by grabbing her thighs, but she immediately swats you away.

“No! Only I mark you! Fuck, your abs make me so fucking jealous. Be a good little girl and move your stupid tongue.”

Yena suffocates you with her sweaty, pink cunt while her glossy lips begin to kiss all over your midriff. Enticed by her worship of your abs, you start to worship her lower lips with everything you have. Lick it, nibble on it, suck on it, blow on it, just to make her thighs shudder at the sides of your head. Then it’s Yena’s turn to slobber all over your abs, leave painful hickeys and even more painful scars when you strike at her most sensitive nub.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’ll fuck your face forever, don’t stop, fuck!”

She likes that word so much—just like she likes thrusting her hips down, smacking her juices all over your features until her unannounced yet definitely noticeable orgasm that leaves you with a blurry vision of her trembling crotch. Yena’s smell and cum fill your nostrils as you try to take deep breaths, a grave mistake which leads to you falling into a coughing fit. Not a good final impression, but the idol does not seem to mind. With unsteady feet she gets off of your face just to sink to her knees beside you as the orgasm still rattles her mind.

Half a minute later, your coughing fit finally subsiding, Yena’s hands do not subside—like claws they cling to your abs and hips, making you hiss when she goes over the fresh wounds. She looks at you, brushes the wild strands of pink hair behind her ear and does what you assume is an apologetic gesture: Eyes still locked with yours, her lips gently kiss where faint droplets of blood come from and you throw your head back at—again—pain and pleasure.

“I can’t get enough of this,” Yena hums and you continue to groan.

“I-it hurts, Yena.”

“I like marking my girls.”

Suddenly, her hand creeps in between your legs and you lock it right there with your thighs. Shit, you’re sensitive, needy for another round of her fingers getting you off. Yena however only brushes the bush of your unshaven pubic hair. Once more, she sighs, but this time it’s a lot less demanding; maybe she sounds hopeful?

“If you want another round,” she whispers. “Shave yourself ‘till tomorrow.

“Understood, my perfect little girl~?”

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #izone smut #female reader smut #female reader insert #reader x idol smut #Youtube

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