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swordsandholly · 8 hours

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Across the Way

Chapter One: New Places, New Faces

Ao3

MDNI

Pairing: Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live, but after a chance meeting with a very pretty man and his service dog, a new element is thrown into that life that you never saw coming.

Johnny stirs awake with a grunt as Riley’s wet nose bumps against his hand. There’s a very slight ache behind his eyes - the kind that marks an oncoming migraine. He groans, not wanting to open them to the invasive sunlight that will inevitably make it worse. Then again, that’s the only way he can get any preemptive pain medication in his system. He still makes a noise of complaint when he finally peels back his lids.

“Feelin’ alright?” Simon rumbles, setting a glass on the nightstand along with two little pain pills. How he’s able to tell what kind of morning Johnny’s having before even he can is a true mystery.

Johnny just grunts back, rolling onto his side to grab his hearing aid out of the nightstand drawer. Normally he wouldn’t bother with putting it on with a possibly impending migraine, but he figures he can chance it. They’ve been lessening in the past few months. Somewhat.

“Plans for the day?” Simon asks as he pulls on one of his work shirts. “Up for coming to the shop?”

The little clock beside him blinks out five in the morning. Even after being retired for nearly three years, neither of them can manage to sleep in late whether they have to be up or not. “Gonnae take Riley out tae the park. Might drop by.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Me? Never.” Johnny flashes his husband a grin.

Simon just rolls his eyes in response. The rest of their morning is quiet, as most are when Johnny isn’t up for talking. It’s a comfortable silence, one they both came to appreciate long before this current chapter in their lives. One that developed on cots and in tents and the wreckage of war zones.

It’s just how they are.

Being essentially a stay at home husband was not how Johnny pictures his thirties. Being disabled was not how he pictured… any of it. He thought he’d be up for Lieutenant by now. Thought Simon would have taken over as Captain of the 141. He’s learned not to be bitter about it (with Simon’s and some professional help).

He can’t complain too much. He’s alive. He gets to be with his family. With Simon. With Riley in this run down dog park throwing around a ball that she dutifully chases and brings back with the pride of a great hunter bringing home a prized beast. He gets to go home to a place that is truly his, with a big comfortable bed and a man he fought tooth and nail to fill it with.

It’s a small life but he’s learned that small doesn’t mean unimportant.

Christ who knew turning thirty would make him a damn philosopher.

“Alright, lassie, time tae go.” Johnny crouches to shuffle Riley’s harness and leash back on. He knees pop and his back protests the movement. It’s a mercy that they were able to get such a lovely service dog. She’s such a good pup, always at the ready and happy to obey.

Except now, as she begins to tug insistently at her leash with her full weight - or at least as much as she can use without hurting him. It isn’t like her. He clicks and commands her to heel. She tugs harder and whines. It isn’t an alert that he knows - maybe it’s one that they don’t need often? He lets go of the leash, following as she quickly jogs away.

He circles a few bushes in pursuit, coming to face one of the large trees on the outer edge of the park. There’s a girl leaned on it, breath coming in and out heavy. She starts to slip forward a bit before Riley props her up, stabalizing the girl in much the same way she does Johnny when he gets faint. He speeds up his steps, holding out his hands on either side of the girl in case she falls.

“Aren’t you a good girl?” She coos at Riley quietly. American. Huh. He watches the girl dig in her pocket for something, eventually pulling out what looks like a to-go salt packet. She tears it open, throwing it back like a shot.

“Ye a’right?” Johnny asks, tilting his head.

She nods and takes a long, deep breath. “Sorry, I have a…thing.” She waves her hand around her head, straightening up and turning to face him. She’s cute. Insanely cute - with big eyes and soft body. Lovely curves from head to toe. Johnny may be a married man but that doesn’t mean he can’t apprecaite a little, right?

“Donnae apologize. I’ve got a thing, tae.” Johnny grins and points to the scar on his head where his hair never quite grew back.

She gives him a soft smile. “Well, you’ve got a good dog. I’ve never had one alert like that.”

“Aye, she was tuggin’ hard. Must’ve been a pretty bad spell. Ye sure yer okay?”

“Yeah.” Her braided hair falls about her shoulders. “Just didn’t eat enough before I went for a walk and then I stood up too quickly…”

“Och, standin’, my age old enemy.”

She giggles quietly, pressing her fingers over her lips to cover them. It’s pretty, the way her round face gets even rounder with her smile.

“Johnny.” He holds out a hand, flashing his most charming smile he can muster. It’s a little more tired these days - the corners of his eyes crinkle more than they used to. The girl takes his hand, so soft and warm and small in his, and breathes out her name quietly. Almost bashfully. So cute.

Unfortunately his phone chimes, interrupting the moment before he can ask her more.

“I should be off, ye sure yer okay?” Johnny lets his eyes take over her, not just her body but also checking that she is, in fact, okay. Her eyes seem clear, stance steady, not too pale or too flushed. He’s no medic but he’d say she’s going to be fine.

“Yeah, yeah. Thank you.” She crouches slightly, slowly moving to look at Riley. “And thank *you* ma’am.”

Johnny watches her walk away, pausing to make sure she doesn’t stumble. He’s not sure what compels him - maybe it’s the solider in him still wanting to watch for the safety of those around him. It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the way her wide hips sway as she makes her way down the path.

Johnny can’t stop smiling as he makes his way to the shop for some reason. It wasn’t even all that impressive of an interaction, but something about it really warmed his heart. Maybe it was just meeting someone else with a *thing*, as she put it. There really isn’t anyone else in his life who needs as much support as him - certainly not many adults in this small town who need assistance on the whole. It’s rare to meet someone who gets it, however briefly.

“Wot’s got you so chipper?” Simon quirks an eyebrow as he enters.

The door bell chimes above his head. Riley trots off from Johnny’s side to her designated bed in the corner of the shop. Away from the food but close enough that she could easily get wherever Johnny might be. One of the regulars even made a plaque for her that his Da screwed on the wall.

“Met a nice lass today in the park.” He shrugs. “Pretty little thing.”

“Ah, your great-aunt’s prayin’ finally do you in?” Simon chuckles as Johnny ducks behind the counter to rest a hand on the small of his back.

“Aye, finally realized I should turn tae a life of lassies an’ biarns. Yer great arse has no power over me now, foul demon.”

Simon chuckles. There’s something about it that always does Johnny in. A low rumble he can feel in his very bones. “Glad to see you’re feelin’ better.”

Johnny hums. “The warm weather helps, fer whatever reason.”

“Good. You see the shop across the street?”

Johnny turns, looking out their front window. The construction has been going on for a few months - various workers milling in and out. Neither he nor Simon could figure out what they were putting in until small signs were put across the windows announcing the new location to be The Honey Bun Bakery with an opening date at the bottom. A bit cutesy for their taste, but a new bakery in town is exciting. The last one closed because the owners got too old and had no one to take over. His mother has been buzzing about it since the signs were first put up.

The biggest mystery is the owner. No one has seen hide nor hair of whoever owns the place. There were movers taking things into the attached apartment on the floor above about a week ago, but no one has actually seen the resident. He or she is a ghost. Gossip has filled the town, of course. Especially among the older folks. That’s another thing his mother has been fluttering about.

“Already opening day, eh?”

“Yep.”

“We should check it out, then.”

Simon hums. “We’ll go after the morning rush if you’re up for it, hm?”

“Aye.”

“Johnny?” The shorter man jumps as Simon’s hands rest on his waist. He’ll never get over the intensity of Simon’s eyes. For a man who keeps his emotions locked in the deepest parts of him, he sure carries a lot of it in those pretty dark pools.

“Aye?” The word comes out breathier than he means it to.

“You look sunburnt.”

Johnny barks out a laugh, half-heartedly shoving his husband off. “An’ here I thought ye were gonnae say somethin’ romantic.”

“You know me better than that.” Simon’s eyes crinkle in the corners with a smile as he pulls the mask to the side, pressing a kiss to Johnny’s lips.

You may or may not have slept exactly 3.46 hours last night. It’s not your fault, really. Today’s your first day. Your first real day of your new life and your new career. Years of prayers and months upon months of planning, waiting, crying, and straining have finally come to a head. You’re in Scotland, your bakery is constructed, all that’s left is to actually bake.

And sell, of course, but you try your hardest not to think about that part or you might throw up. Again.

You curse the time it takes you to shower, carefully acclimating to the heat of the shower and sitting in your little plastic seat. You want to run, to act like the a whirlwind you feel in your head. You can’t, though, it’s not worth possibly ruining the most important day in your life just because you were impatient and passed out. At least you finally got your medication situation figured out before coming over here - the perfect little cocktail sitting on the corner of your dresser.

Your hands tremble a bit as you open up one of the cardboard boxes still sitting in your living room. You’d picked out a special outfit for your first real day of owning your own business months ago - one you made sure would be here with you on opening day. Really, it isn’t anything special - just a pair of black gingham trousers and a black cotton t-shirt along with your well-loved non-slip shoes. It’s yours though, and it perfectly matches your specially embroidered apron with your little logo on the front, center pocket. It’s yours. All yours. It’s a reminder that you’re here. You made it out.

You had already done a good bit of the work the day before - putting together your doughs and shaping up pastries to proof overnight in the fridge. Now all that’s left is to actually bake them and put them out. The smell wafts through the building, covering any left over scents of paint or construction work. It feels real. Grounding. You’re here and you can feel, smell, even taste it.

You expected a few customers. Not much. High hopes and low expectations. Just a couple people here and there that noticed the new shop coming to town and were curious about it. You’d advertised as well as you could from across the pond. Maybe a little rush around the late morning when people are usually out for brunch and shopping at most.

You did not expect a constant stream from the moment you propped the door open until the late afternoon. These Scots run you fucking ragged. A constant flux of in and out, all day. All them wanting to chat, as well.

“Oh, American! Whit part are ye from?”

“Yer sae young! Just a wee bairn!”

“So nice havin’ a bakery again, aye?”

“Urr ye merrit? Ah hae a son-“

You regret not buying that coffee machine for the back room.

Just as you’re stacking display baskets to take to the back to wash up the door chimes behind you. Here you thought you were finally done for the day. You sigh. “Sorry, hun, I’m pretty much out of everyth-”

“Ye!” You whirl, only to meet those same bright blue eyes from the day before.

“Johnny!” You squeak, eyes wide.

“Why dinnae ye mention the shop?” The man grins wide - the same as the day before. Sparkling and bright and far, far more pretty than you’re prepared to deal with. His hair is neater today - not ragged from exercise with his service dog who currently sits politely by his feet.

“Ah, was little light headed. Wasn’t thinking straight.” You shrug.

“Speaking of, how’s yer thing?” He waves a hand about his head the same way you did the day prior. It’s cute how invested he seems to be, genuinely asking if you’re alright. The man looming behind him watches silently.

“Oh, I’m alright. Finer than the hair on a toad split four ways.” You grin.

The man behind him furrows his brow slightly at the expression, but doesn’t offer a word. He’s tall. Wide too and dressed in all black with long sleeves despite the warm, spring weather. His hair is buzzed neatly. There’s a severity to him only emphasized by the scar splitting his brow and the small chip missing from his ear.

“Och, this is my husband Simon.” Jihnny steps to the side and gestures toward the brooding figure behind him. “We own the butcher shop across the street.”

“No shit!” You can’t help but smile ear to ear, holding out your hand. They seem so sweet. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you. Glad to have such nice neighbors.”

Simon shakes your hand a single time curtly before stepping back behind Johnny. The severity in his dark eyes softens whenever he glances toward the other man. Cute.

“We wanted tae come see whit ye’ve got.”

“I haven’t got much left…” You tap your chin and rest a hand on your hip, wanting to rectify the dip of disappointment in the pretty man’s brow. “Oh! I’ve got a sourdough in the back. One sec!”

You skitter off, paying little mind to how silly you must look practically prancing toward the back room. Originally, you’d planned to save this for yourself tonight as a job-well-done treat but it feels more gratifying to give it to your new neighbors. Hopefully they like it - maybe you can finally make some friends for the first time in… ever really.

“How much fer it?”

“On the house. We’re neighbors now, yeah? First ones free.” You grin, wrapping it extra nicely in some brown paper packaging.

“Thank ye, bonnie.” Johnny cradles the loaf so carefully you almost laugh - as if he’s afraid too much pressure will completely ruin it. Like he’s holding a precious treasure. “We’ll leave ye alone tae close but we’ll see ye around, aye?”

“Course.” You nod, waving after them and they exit. You can see the big blonde, Simon, turn to Johnny to say something but it’s impossible to hear them or tell from their lips as they cross the street back to their butcher shop. They link hands, fingers intertwining with long practiced grace, and something in your throat constricts.

What’s it like, you wonder, to have a love like that?

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #ghost cod #cod x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #ghost x reader #cod #ghoap x reader #ghoap #soapghost x reader #plus size reader #fat reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #slice of life #holly writes #john soap mctavish x reader

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britishchick09 · 2 years

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as i’m sure you know, rewrite erik is a demiboy, someone who only partially identifies as a guy... but he might be a trans girl? :o

i’ve talked about that before, but i wrote a little scene where he questions his identity and he feels so euphoric when he says ‘i’m a woman’! it’s so awesome to see him discover his true self!!! :D

although he identifies as a girl, he still uses 'he/him’ pronouns because ‘she/her’ doesn’t feel quite right. but does that mean he’s still a girl? i found out that a late 19th century trans woman named jennie june identified as a girl, but used male pronouns... just like rewrite erik could! ;D

#i was writing a little scene where rewrite erik talks to his mirror reflection and it turned into a discovery journey!#i could sense his wide smile and absolute joy when he called himself a woman! :D #maybe he could use 'she/her' in the future but for now 'he/him' feels ok :)#the narration in the rewrite used 'they/them' when he was the red death so that's an option too! ;)#i'm just happy that he's becoming his true self #in the rewrite he says he's not quite sure if he's a man and relates to the author george sand #disguising himself as kristin in one of the mystery stories is the next step! ;D #it helps him realize 'oh wow i feel way more comfortable as a girl this is awesome!'#and of course christine & nadir support him the entire way! :')#the mystery is just over a year after the rewrite so the demi flag in the eristine pride month pic is still accurate in a way! ;)#edit: maybe the demi flag will be kept because he says he's 10% man! (he doesn't identify as it but he sees the physical guy signs)#he's 90% queen bby! ;)#and he's 50% opera ghost of course! ;D #would trans girl demiboy be right? idk but i'm still learning (alongside rewrite erik of course)! :)#all i know for sure is that he's definitely an intersex opera ghost! ;)#poto rewritten

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jackross-v · 2 years

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Can't believe I forgot to change my icon. King debuted first day of pride and I do him like this. Deplorable.

#a text post from me? unbelievable #anyway we will be resuming your scheduled makishima loving hours some time in the future #for now he gets to stay a little longer than just for pride month cause Im a dumbass and totally forgot I still had this icon

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insignificantbab · 5 months

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ofc im startin this in tha off season

#holiday times r always off because ppl r traveling or spending timw with family so they aint payin to fuck #but itll give me some time to build up some social media i guess #gonna make a twitter i think. twitter sucks ass but insta is the only other useful option and its facebook so i dont wanna give any info #since its for sex work.#ive also gotta look into yhis 1 directory site. its well known and trusted and required verification to put an ad up which is good #but im not sure if i make an account if when i move ill need to use the same one #im liking that ill only be here for 6 months so if i kinda suck i can still get experience and when i move have new clients and ppl wont #know i used to suck. i dont want a reputation to follow me. so i moght skip on this sire depending on how it works #cause id def wanna use it in the future. if i can easily selerate the identities tho then i think its be ok and will def use it #its hard to figure which sites are legit to use tbh #things will say find independent sites for your area and work backwards by finding that persons ads on directories but i cant find #any personal sites. and shitty scam directories will scrape legit ones and add all those ppl to it #so idk which sites actually have ppl using them. but im prob just make an ad on anything that seems legit enough and that should make me #look pretty legit to people i think.#i hope things go well and i get ppl. im nervous to be doin this but i think it was inevitable. and its work i can see myself doing for a #long time and getting good at and taking pride in. but rigjt now thats not what it is

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fangirl-dot-com · 5 months

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Reader Lore - Born to Break Records

So this is a little filler for between now and the next chapter. This chapter might have triggers for death, abusive parents, and brief mentions of bullying. If these make you uncomfortable, then please feel free to skip this chapter. The synopsis is the reader’s life up until her first race win in F2.

Welcome to Reader-Lore

2003

The cry of a baby filled the sterile walls of the delivery room. Pants filled in the quiet moments, but were mostly covered. The wailing baby was placed into the arms of the waiting mother, the father looking down on the two.

“It’s a girl,” the nurse told them, writing something down in a book.

The atmosphere suddenly changed. The once hopeful air was dampened with disappointment. The father sighed loudly, turning his head to look out the window. The mother, who had held her baby tight, loosened her grip. Her nose was now scrunched in borderline disgust.

The nurse, feeling the off energy, offered to take the baby girl. She made some excuse about needing to weigh her and make sure that she was healthy, things that could have waited until after the parents bonded.

The mother was quick to hand her over, waiving her hand as though it wasn’t a big deal. The father had now moved farther away from the hospital bed.

The baby had started to wail once more after being taken from the arms of her mother. Arms that she thought were safe. Arms connected to the body that had cared for her for 9 months. Arms that suddenly did not hold her tight. Arms that willingly gave her away to some stranger.

Once the nurse and frightened infant left the from, the mother and father looked at each other.

“I wanted a boy,” the male murmured.

The female rolled her eyes, “I know. And so did I. But we don’t have a choice anymore.”

“We do. Could always leave her here. A boy would be able to break records. A girl is useless.”

“And be arrested? No thank you.” The mother rolled on her side, arms around her front. The father just huffed.

“Everything we talked about, our future, is now a wasted memory.”

The mother looked at the door with a sliver of hope, although, it was too small for anyone to see it. “Maybe she can do everything that you wanted a boy to do.”

“We can just have another baby,” the father persisted.

“You heard the doctor. It would be too dangerous for me to have another. What’s done is done. You can walk out now if you can’t commit.” The woman went to say something else, but was interrupted by whimpers.

The nurse had walked back in, now with a swaddled baby. Begrudgingly, the mother held her hands out to take the bundle of blankets. She looked down at the brand new baby, but her heart didn’t swell with pride like she read about. Her heart filled with distain, as if the baby were a Christmas present that she didn't want. But this time, she couldn’t return the baby like she’d return a gift at whatever store it was bought from.

The father had taken a few steps closer to the bed, but kept his distance. There wasn’t a bone in his body that actually wanted the child.

“We still need a name for her,” the nurse stated, clicking her pen.

The mother glanced to the father before saying, “Y/n. Her name is Y/n.”

2008 – Five years old

The air was stuffy, filled with the scent of petrol and burnt rubber. The quiet that could have been was broken by the rattles of engines and throttles. You wished for silence.

You wanted nothing to do with this. But, you’d rather get in a kart then flinch at your father’s hand. You had been allowed to wander around the track. The big boys were driving now. And by big boys, you meant 11- and 10-year-olds. They were bigger than you and drove karts that were so much faster than the little one that you had.

You looked around. There was definitely not a shortage of girls hanging around, but none were dressed like you. Most were the older or younger sisters of the drivers. Their pink tops, paired with shorts or skirts, flowed in the wind. None of them were wearing an old itchy race suit that was two sized too big. They were allowed to wear sandals, while you had to endure the tight racing shoes that your dad had definitely yanked on the laces too much. It wasn’t your fault that you hadn’t learn to tie them yet.

You watched their hair bounce in the tall pony tails tied on the tops of their heads. They didn’t need their hair to be wrapped in a bun at the base of their necks so that it could fit into a helmet.

You wished that your mom and dad would allow you to cut it off so that you could be the boy that they wanted. You knew that they didn’t want you, your little mind was able to catch on to things like that.

You understood patterns. Patterns on the track helped you know what areas to avoid. Patters on the kart taught you where to put your feet and hands. Patterns told you that moms and dads should be happy for their children, and not yell at them. Patters revealed that children did not flinch when their parents patted their heads or caressed their cheeks.

The wind blew loud as the kart race came to a close. You knew that you needed to get back quickly to where you parents were waiting, but you wanted to see the winners, wanted to see them taste a victory that you were so desperate for.

You squeezed past the other boys and looked up at the three on the podium. The one on the lowest step wasn’t rememberable. His hair looked the same as others. His height wasn’t tall or small, just in the middle.

But the boys on the other two steps were. The one on the second pedestal had a shaggy hair cut, with bangs that pointed down. You had seen him before, surrounded by his family. A little brother, a big brother, mom and dad, and then a man who looked at the boy with stars in his eyes.

You wished someone looked at you like that.

“And in second place, Charles Leclerc.” So that was his name. Sharl. His eyes were bright green and filled with light and hope. But a sadness still glazed them as he looked up at the boy on the top step.

The boy who towered over the crowd had blond sandy hair. For a winner, he didn’t look happy. His blue eyes didn’t hold the same brightness that the green eyes had.

“And our winner, Max Verstappen!”

That was a nice name. Max. You wanted to look at the boy winner for a few more moments. Engrave his image into your mind. Because, you didn’t know when the next time you’d be able to do this. Your dad would probably ban you from such things, saying something like you didn’t need to look at something you’d never achieve.

But you were hungry.

You were taken out of your watching by the announcement that your own race was going to start soon. And you weren’t in your kart.

You rushed through the crowd, trying to put on your bright pink helmet on. You could put your gloves on while you got into your kart.

By the time you got there, your dad was already looking at you with a disappointed look. Your mother was nowhere to be found.

“Where have you been,” he hissed, hitting your helmet.

“I wanted to see the podiums,” you muttered, getting your gloves on.

Your dad shook his head. “What have I told you about that?”

“That I shouldn’t look at things that I can’t get.”

“Exactly. Now get in your kart.”

You did as he said. You heart was pounding as you taxied the little thing onto the smaller track. You were able to be seen by everyone, your helmet acting as a little flag. It seemed to say “look at me! I’m the only girl trying to be on par with all these boys! Watch me fail!”

But you were determined to prove them all wrong.

By the last lap, you were right behind one more kart. One more pass and you could win. Prove your dad wrong. Prove everyone wrong.

You watched as he broke your pattern. The pattern that would help you win.

He made a mistake, and you welcomed it with glee.

You passed over the finish line with a significant gap behind you and that boy. At the stopping point, you parked your kart and stepped out, exhaling sharply.

You thought that people would cheer and shout, but the silence that you had wished for earlier had come to haunt you.

You won and there was nothing to celebrate.

2015 – Twelve years old

Everyone thought he was crazy. There was no way that he was going to sponsor a 12 year old in karting, a female none the less.

He wasn’t crazy. How could he not want to sponsor you, a consecutive race winner in your league. He constantly watched you drive circles around the boys who would berate you in their free time. He watched as you would let their words roll right off your back. You didn’t let their words get to you.

But, he was your godfather and he had a sense of responsibility for you. He watched as you climbed out of the kart, looking around trying to find a familiar face.

He could see your eyebrows raise through the visor when you caught sight of him.

“LoLo!” you yelled, quickly sprinting over to him. He was ready to catch you, but not expecting the hit with your helmet.

He let out an oof as you knocked him slightly off balance.

“Hey kid! You did good!” He rubbed your helmet as if it were hair. You quickly unbuckled the pink contraption and took it off, hair sticking to your forehead.

You looked around before your shoulders slumped. You kicked a rock as you spoke, “They didn’t come.”

Lorenzo had noticed a lack of your parents as soon as he arrived. He would have come earlier to help you with your kart if he had known that they weren’t here. He looked down at you with sad eyes, and that’s the last thing you wanted.

You always wished for someone to look at you with so much love and affection that it poured out of their soul. But you only ever got looks of hatred and pity.

He rubbed your shoulder, “It’s ok kid. But you wanna know something?” He crouched down to your level, pant legs getting damp with moisture. You nodded your head. “LoLo gets to sponsor you!”

You gasped, eyes tearing. Even though you were twelve, you knew the weight of the situation. Your parents had told you that because you were winning, you were embarrassing them. And because you were embarrassing them, they wouldn’t pay any more years of karting after this one. You wailed when you told Lorenzo the next time you saw him. And he saw your heart break into itty bitty pieces while you did.

When you left, he looked into every possibly way that he could keep you in karting. The only option was to sponsor you.

And sponsor you he did. He emailed, texted, and called multiple companies, trying to get their support. He would get sponsorship to put on your kart so that you could carry the logos proudly. He had your new one sitting in the back of his old truck, but that was a surprise. It was blue with two proud bulls on the very front. He had done it. He found you a sponsor that would keep you going for a couple of years.

His thoughts were interrupted by you actually knocking him over. He knew his sweater was getting damp, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to see you smile for the rest of his life.

You were too busy whispering thank you after thank you for you to notice the weird looks that you were getting. Looks from the boys that you had just beaten. Looks from the parents who didn’t know the worries of paying for karting.

He quickly picked you up and took you back over to get your cart. He helped you load it on the mover and rolled it over to his truck. You wouldn’t be needing this kart that was almost falling apart. You had a new one, and you’d be all right.

You talked the whole way home, animatedly moving your hands around as you described your latest win. Your hands rolled over the other as you showed him how you turned the wheel, barely clipping the front of the kart who wanted to push you off.

Lorenzo only looked at you with pure adoration. A look that you wanted so much, but were too busy to see due to your explanations of your imaginations.

Maybe he was crazy, but he didn’t think so.

2019 – Sixteen years old (F3)

Your eyes were pricked with tears as you read the letter you received in the mail. The big letters of DISOWNMENT flashed in the reflections. They had done it weeks ago, according to the date on the top of the paper. By now, your things were probably thrown away or burned.

You had just finished the F4 category and were making a name for yourself in F3. You couldn’t deal with this now. One of the management people came and knocked on your door, telling you that the race was about to start.

You crumpled the paper up and threw it in the trash. If they didn’t need you, you didn’t need them. That was the lie you continually told yourself. Of course a girl needed her parents. They were the people who were supposed to nurture you and help you.

But they never did that in the first place. At least you didn’t have to constantly buy drug store foundation and concealer and try to explain the black and blue around your eyes after it melted off during the race. No more flinching. No more hiding.

Just no more.

You would call Lorenzo and see if you could stay with him for a bit during the break. You would have to or you wouldn’t have a place to sleep.

Your breath shuddered at the thought.

You told yourself that you knew this was coming. They had cut all contact with you months ago and weren’t spotted when you went home during the last break.

You allowed the tears to fall as you got your helmet on. No one would see the streams as you placed your visor down. You were now hidden away from the weird looks that everyone sent you. No girl had ever made it this far.

Sure as you grew, there were girls in karting. That number seemed to increase in F4. Most of them were from the driver academies. You were still able to participate due to multiple sponsorships that Lorenzo had gotten you.

But with increase, there has to be a decrease. You were currently the only female in F3 and were set to be the only female to make it to F2. Well, that’s what everyone told you. Your stats reflected your need to prove yourself.

Race win after race win helped thrust you through the blockades built by men. They wouldn’t stop you, and you didn’t want to stop. Not now, not ever.

Each race win fueled your hunger in this world. And it only grew and grew.

Your tears were brushed away by the wind brushing through your car. At that moment, you told yourself that you wouldn’t cry over your parents ever again. They didn’t deserve them.

You could cry about other things. Such as passing over the finish line, marking your first win in F3.

You constantly showed the world that you could do it. You wanted to cry again as you listened to your anthem. You wanted to cry when the boys celebrated with each other, leaving you out. You wanted to cry as you walked back to your “motor home,” knowing that it was put up quickly for you.

The time you finally let yourself cry was when you were talking with Lorenzo on the phone. Your eyes were tired and dehydrated by the time you quit. Lorenzo was able to calm you down. He told you that he would take care of everything, take care of you.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to see him much though. The F3 calendar was far busier than the F4 one had. And you knew the moment you entered F2, time for relaxation would be far and few between.

But you had Lorenzo to fall back on when the times got hard. You could always count on him.

2020 – Seventeen years old (F2)

It was too soon. Too too soon. It wasn’t fair either. Your tears had not stopped streaming down your face since you arrived. The sterile smell itched your nose, but you needed to be here. For him.

He had gotten paler in the few moments since you had been there. His breath rattled with each inhale and exhale. And each breath brought more tears. You didn’t want to let him go.

“Please LoLo. I can’t do this without you,” you whispered, knowing that he probably would not hear you. The doctors told you that he was far too gone for that, but you liked to believe that he was still listening. “You can’t leave me like everyone has. I can’t be alone. I need you.” You put your face down in the blankets, squeezing his hand.

The nurses stood in the door, with tears of their own. They were watching a child lose the only family that she had left.

You inhaled sharply, wiping your tears away.

“You know I’m going to do it. For you. It’s only ever been you. You’ve been my best friend and I don’t know how I’m going to get through this scary world without you.” You hiccupped. “But, I know that you need to go. And I’m being selfish for keeping you here.”

You stood and kissed his forehead.

“Thank you LoLo, for everything. I love you.”

His chest rose, fell, rose, and fell.

But didn’t rise again. The multiple beeps from the different machines let you know that he was gone. And he wasn’t coming back.

One of the nurses came and rubbed your back as you sobbed, not caring who heard you. Your tears did not stop.

They didn’t stop on the plane to Bahrain. They refused to dry up during the practices as you set record times. They let up as you gave post-practice interviews, saving you from being embarrassed.

You cried as you put your helmet on. Stickers had been placed on it the night before with Lorenzo’s name and dates of birth and death to commemorate his legacy that would continue through you.

You knew this race was important. You heard that multiple F1 drivers were there to watch. And you’d give them a spectacle, before hiding away to burry your dead godfather. You hoped that the blond kid with blue eyes that had grown up by now was there. He didn’t need to know that you looked up to him. You just hoped that he’d be there. And possibly the green eyed Justin Bieber look-a-like as well, you had followed him too.

You had managed to score a P5 starting on the grid and you knew it would be tough to fight for the front. But you had a feeling that you’d be just fine.

And just fine you were.

You all hauled your F2 car over that finish line, finishing with a gap of 10 seconds. Your crew was screaming in your ear through the radio and congratulations were being thrown everywhere. You pulled into the number 1 spot and climbed onto the nose. You put your finger on the big numbers on the nose of your car, kissed the finger that touched it, and raised it, pointing at the sky. You had changed your driver number to the permanent 89 this season, and for the rest of your career.

One time, Lorenzo had showed you pictures of when he used to kart. The big 89 was visible through the old photographs. He had trophies upon trophies, but was never picked up by anyone. You told him that if he had raced these days, he’d be able to skip everything and would be put into an F1 car immediately. He had just laughed and told you to do it for him.

So that’s what you were doing. After you commemoration, you scrambled down the car and jumped into the crews waiting arms. These days, you did not flinch when they hit your helmet. You knew that these were celebrations for racers and you were thankful to partake. Two boys followed you up and went before you. You didn’t remember their names, only the Australian accent and the odd American accent. But they would remember your name.

You carried your flag high as you walked onto the stage. The anthem sounded much sweeter this time around. The trophy felt a little heavier this time though. You looked up to see those blue eyes that you saw many years ago. Max said a quick congratulations before you raised it as though to almost offer it to the open sky. This time, you let the tears go. You quicky wiped them away and picked up the giant bottle of champagne. You hauled it over your shoulder and sprayed the others, absolutely drenching them.

This time, they did it to you as well.

You knew you made it.

I’ll do it for you, LoLo.

December 2024 – Twenty-one years old

Christian Horner sat in the folding chair, as he did year after year. A camera was right in front of him, with an interviewer to the side.

“Please state your name for the camera.” He rolled his eyes.

“My name is Christian Horner, and I am the Team Principal of the Oracle Red Bull Racing Formula 1 Team.”

“Let’s talk about your driver, Y/n L/n.”

The screen cuts to the pace of your car, passing multiple others in one clean sweep.

“She’s one of the best talents I’ve seen in a while.”

A scene of you holding a trophy, high in the sky.

“What is one thing that you admire about your driver. She has said a lot about you.” Christian smiled. Of course you had. You told him that you saw him as the dad you never had.

“Almost everything she touches, she turns it to gold.”

The scene changes to your first win. The crowds of red cheered your name. Something you didn’t think was possible. You had taken that win from their favorites and you were being praised for it. Slow-motion splashes of champagne hit you from either side as you wiped your face.

The scene returns, but Max is in Christian’s spot.

“She’s different. She’s the epitome of what a rookie should be. I’m just thankful that she’s my teammate and not working against me.”

The screen fades to two Red Bull cars with an Aston Martin in between them.

“Y/n, Max is currently behind the Aston. Gap to you is 1.237 seconds,” Mitch’s voice is heard off screen through the radio.

“Tell Maxie that it’s time to do the old switcharoo!”

Your car suddenly slowed down just enough on the turn, and the crowd cheered as Max’s car went wide, putting him before you. You quickly got in his slip stream and the two of you sped off, leaving the green car in the dust.

Another driver, with green eyes, is now in the seat, answering the same question.

Charles looked up in thought while blowing some air out his lips. “She’s fearless. You normally don’t see that anywhere. Sure, everyone gets scared if they have an impact, especially as big as the one she had, but not her.”

The camera cuts to the violent scene of your first DNF. Your car flipped, you were trapped. People’s faces were adorned with tears including Christian, no one had been able to contact you. Yet, the focus is now on you, wiggling out from beneath the wreckage. You, in spite of it all, raised your fist as though you were celebrating a first win.

The scene cuts to an Australian with a straight smile. He looks semi-uncomfortable in the seat.

“It looked like you and L/n had a tussle in the beginning. Is that true?”

Oscar shook his head. “There was never a tussle. We both made mistakes, but that’s racing. Wheels touch all the time: it doesn’t mean that we have the urge to take each other out.”

The interviewer continued, “But she did take you out.”

The screen fades to a clip of two cars dangerously close together, one orange and one navy.

David Croft’s voice could be heard, “And there goes the Red Bull of Y/n L/n and the McLaren of Oscar Piastri! They are close together around that corner and they aren’t backing down. Are they going to make contact! And they do! Off the track they go, debris is everywhere. And I don’t think they are going to be able to continue.”

You knew that you should not have “never backed down never what-ed.” But Oscar was going for it and so were you. And you felt terrible. You quickly used the halo to climb out. Looking over, Oscar was doing the same thing.

The camera followed you as you made your way through the swarming stewards. You just knew that you needed to check on the Aussie.

The crowds could hear David speak again, “Oh no. Looks like L/n is mad. Does Red Bull have a thing for drivers with anger issues?”

Oscar looked up and saw you storming towards him, batting away the stewards hands. He stiffened, ready for anything. But what he didn’t expect was a giant hug. He could feel you shaking and he quickly put his hands around you.

“I’m ok.”

The screen flashes back to Oscar.

He huffed, “She did. But the moment she got out of the car, she came to check on me. She batted away the stewards who were desperate to make sure that she was fine, since she took the brunt of the hit. If that doesn’t convince you that Y/n is a great friend and better driver, then I don’t know what will.” The Aussie looked livid.

The scene cuts to now a new face, your manager.

The interviewer asks, “What is something that people might not know about Y/n.” Vito put his hand to his chin. You had already given him the permission to talk about what might be discussed.

He inhaled, “She’s strong. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well.”

“Can you give us an example?”

“The kid was disowned in 2019, right before her F3 debut. And you know what she did? She put that F3 car in the P1 spot. She never showed it though. She held her head high, and was squeezing into her place, that was waiting for her, in this sport.”

A quick flash of 16 year old you, holding your first F3 trophy, was shown on screen.

Vito kept talking as the scene changed to you walking around your motor home, greeting everyone who was there. They knew what had happened, and comforted you with words and hugs. You were thankful for them.

“She also lost her godfather Lorenzo in January 2020. It was heartbreaking to hear her over the phone. Her debut in F2 was the next day. I told her that she didn’t have to, but she insisted that she needed to race, to win.”

The camera followed 17 year old you, helmet on and visor down, as you walked to your F2 car, shining with your new number.

“In less than 24 hours, she was back in the car.”

Your car sped down the straight, over the finish line.

“And she won.”

The scene shifted to 23 year old Max Verstappen handing you the big F2 trophy. Tears could be seen in your eyes as you took the cup and thanked him.

“Did you know?”

Max looked at her in bewilderment. “I didn’t. And you would have never guessed it. Y/n has her heart on her sleeve, everywhere she goes, except when she races.”

A quick cut now shows Christian back in the seat.

“The last driver I saw with that mental strength was Charles Leclerc. He previously lost his godfather, and then lost his father. A few days later he won his race. Y/n lost the only family she had in less than a year.” Christian laughed. “These rookies are built different. You’d think they were made for the earlier days of racing, with how much they put into it. But Y/n, I don’t know. Her aura commands attention.”

The scenes now shown are from multiple races.

The camera followed you as you walked through the crowded paddock, trying to get back to hospitality. You thought that it would be different, that you’d have to squeeze through to get by. But with each step you took, the people parted like water.

You flashed a smile at many fans who seemed awestruck to be in your presence.

A new driver is now in the seat.

“She’s almost like Charles, in a sense,” Lando said. “The two of them,” he looked around, “I don’t know. It’s hard to describe.”

“Can you try?” Lando shot her a cheeky grin. “They are basically the F1 royalty. Any driver has a ‘celebrity image’ and people are excited to see us outside. They ask to take pictures, but they also do things against us.”

The scene cuts to multiple instances of booing and pushing drivers.

“And yet, Charles and Y/n bend them to their will almost. They listen to them. The King and Queen of Formula 1.”

A video of you, Lando, Max, and Charles speaking before the Monaco Grand Prix plays.

“Ah, Max. Did I tell you that we have to address them as your highness now?”

Max looked up from his phone and followed Lando’s finger that was pointed at Charles and you, deep in conversation.

“No? Why?” Lando walked over and showed him the edit and comments on his phone.

The caption read “Y/n L/n and Charles Leclerc are F1 royalty and we need to address them as such.” The video that played started with a clip of Charles in Monaco, with the grid and Monegasque royalty behind him. He looked so majestic. It switched over to you in your home country, with a crowd around your pedestal. You hadn’t even won yet, and they looked at you as though you hung the moon. You stretched out your arms and the crowd roared.

Max looked back at the two, who were ignorantly blissed. Max looked up at Lando.

“You’re right.”

The camera is back to Charles.

His eyes were wide with eyebrows raised, “Lando really said that.” He smirked. Shuffling up to good posture he said, “I’m fine with that. Y/n has always been different, but in a good way. She knows what the people wants, but also doesn’t get caught up in all the PR. She’s herself.”

A clip of you with fans plays. Your smile was mirrored with theirs. Everyone wanted to see you, hug you, feel you. And the waves that were emanating from you only made the crowd happier.

Now, the seat is occupied by none other than Sir Lewis Hamilton.

“What do I think about Y/n?” he questions back to himself. “I know that she is one of the best rookies to ever come across in the world of Formula 1. I’ve had the opportunity to share podiums with so many drivers, but her? There’s something different.”

The scene flashes to a podium shared with you, Lewis, and Max. Lewis had been able to take the win, leaving you on the third step. You had almost had the win, but a late safety car ruined it. Lewis looked over at you, expecting a disappointed face. But all he saw was a smile that rivaled the sun.

“She never seems to be disappointed with anything. Even if she was to qualify in last place, she would still smile.” Lewis laughed. “And I think everyone loves her more than they realize.”

A small clip of you and a bulldog flashes across the screen. Roscoe was licking all over your face.

“Roscoe, stop!” But you were laughing, and the dog thought that he should continue. Lewis found the two of you in the middle of the floor in the Mercedes hospitality. A blanket was draped around your shoulders.

“And what are you doing here kid?” Lewis put his hands on his sides.

You shrugged. “Toto told me I could hang out here. Max is having one of those ‘adult meetings’ that Christian says my ears shouldn’t hear. I think they forget that I’m 21 now.”

Lewis just laughed, thinking of how Toto must have let you in and had given you a blanket as well. He just ruffled your hair and sat on the ground with you.

The scene changes one more time. You are now in the seat.

The interviewer asks, “Please state your name and your occupation.”

You smiled, “My name is Y/n L/n and I am a Formula 1 racer who drives for the Oracle Red Bull Racing Formula 1 Team. I also DJ,” you shot finger guns at the camera and clicked you mouth, “Thanks Lando.”

“How was your first season in Formula 1. You obviously showed the world of what you could do.”

You nodded before continuing, “The season went better than I expected. To place third in the driver’s championship as a rookie? Unheard of.” You smirked. “Until now.”

The person behind the camera continued, “You were only 10 points away from Charles Leclerc. How does that make you feel?”

You cocked your head. “It feels wonderful. Charles had a really good season.” You leaned in as though to tell a secret. “If anything, don’t tell Charles or Max I said this, but Max and I would rather lose to Charles than anyone else.”

“And why is that?”

You deadpanned. “Well Charles is Lightning McQueen incarnate and Max’s emotional support rival. Who else would we want?” People laughed in the background.

“Now that you know you could win a championship…”

You cut her off, “Oh I’ve always known I could win a championship. But I also know that I was born to break records. And right now, I’m on a path to help Max break the 7 streak.”

“Ah yes, sorry. What would you do after winning a championship.” You hadn’t seen Max slip in.

“I think I’d pull a Nico Rosenburg. Ya know? Retire while I’m ahead.”

“You would not do that!” Max said behind the camera and you looked straight at him.

��Yes I would.”

“No you wouldn’t. Because you said you were born to break records. Well Kid, if I make a record championship, you need to be the one to break it.”

Oh my gosh, I loved how this chapter turned out. And it is officially the longest chapter I have written so far – 6,077 words. Right now, I have to write the chapter for the last race of F2 and you readers have to pretend that it lands on a weekend that the F1 drivers can attend.

Also! I am pleased to announce that the first few chapters of a new series will be out shortly! It is called “Besties for the Resties” and it’s how you got close with many of the drivers. Not all of them will have their own chapter and not all the drivers are being written about. So please be aware that this will not be going over 10 chapters!

Thank you to all my readers and Happy Thanksgiving!

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @digitalizeduniqueness @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @treehouse-mouse @ashy-kit @agent-curt-mega @julesbabey @lydialawrence @stopeatread @claudia5912 @nichmeddar @blueberry64857959 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @leptitlu @alessioayla @badassturtle13 @kaaale @wcnorris @cool-ultra-nerd @hockeyboysarehot @agent-curt-mega @myxticmoon @cmleitora @sam-is-lost

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x driver!reader #max verstappen x reader #platonic grid x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #formula 1 x you #carlos sainz x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #alex albon x reader #george russell x reader #lewis hamilton x reader

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spdrwdw · 6 months

Text

Pairing: Dom!Miguel x Virgin!Sub!f!reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral-m/f receiving, hair pulling, choking, unprotected intercourse, no use of y/n

Summary: You and Miguel have been together for over a year, however, you have never been sexually intimate with him, nor with anyone, actually. You were a virgin. Miguel never seemed to mind, in fact, he's been rather patient with you. However, you believe now is the time to experience your first time with him.

A/N: this is my first Miguel fic! I do hope everyone enjoys it. I do have some ideas for more future fics. And I am currently taking requests. Also, thank you to @thel0velykey190 for the request. Note: this fic has not been proofread so apologies for any grammatical errors. *Translation for Spanish words/phrases and sentences will be at the end

Word Count: 2.7k

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“Wait, wait, wait! Are you sure about this? Like, one hundred percent sure?” Miguel asked you, eyes wide and brows raised.

You looked at him with determination and nodded your head. “Yes. Yes, I am sure. I’m ready for this, Miguel.” You have been pondering about this for days. Weeks, even. It was time. You were tired of your toys. They didn’t satisfy you anymore. But, you were certain that Miguel would. You knew he would. And he knew it as well.

Miguel stared at you for a moment, trying to find a hint of doubt in your expression, but he found none. And honestly, he was glad. He had been waiting months for this day. He was surprised he had such patience. Yet, with you, he would wait forever.

He reached for your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before he stood up from your living room couch, still holding onto your hand as he waited for you to follow him. “Okay. Let’s go.”

You got up and led him to your bedroom, feeling butterflies in your stomach. This was really happening. This is it. You were finally going to do it.

You were going to lose your virginity. To Miguel.

You’ve been dating each other for about a year and a half, and you had yet to be intimate with him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. It was simply because well, you were a virgin. You have given each other oral countless of times, but, whenever things got too steamy and there was a chance of intercourse, you always stopped him. Miguel was experienced. Of course he was. And you trusted him. But, you were afraid that you wouldn’t be enough for him.

“Nena, look at me,” Miguel spoke softly, pulling you from your thoughts as he cupped your face with his hands.

“Don’t be afraid. Okay? Let me do all the work. I’ll be gentle,” he assured you before you shook your head.

“Don’t be gentle,” you told him. Miguel had confessed to you how he liked being rough. You wanted to experience it. Even on your first try.

“But-,” he started before you cut him off.

“I trust you, Miguel.”

He looked at you for a moment before nodding his head and led you to your bed before you suddenly sunk down to your knees in front of him, looking up at him through your lashes. You could’ve sworn you heard a low rumble coming from his throat. Miguel was easy to get riled up. And it made you feel a sense of pride.

He watched you as you removed his jeans, slipping them down to his ankles before he stepped out of them. The outline of his bulging cock was seen through his boxers. You continued to look up at him before you began to palm his bulge, earning a groan from him in response.

“Don’t be such a tease, nena,” he breathed.

And while you did love to tease him and make him whither under your touch, today wasn’t the day for that. So, you pulled his boxers down, letting his cock spring free and present itself in all its glory. The sight made your mouth water.

Taking him in your hand, you began to pump him, earning a couple of moans from him.

“Come on, pretty girl, I need that skilled mouth of yours,” Miguel rasped, a smirk lifting his lips as you made eye contact.

You did as you were told, opening your mouth wide, with your tongue sticking out and ready for him. Guiding his cock into your mouth, you gave the tip a couple of licks, feeling the saltiness of his precum on your tongue. It made your panties wet instantly.

It wasn’t long until you had him groaning and growling. You were bobbing your head, taking in as much of him as you could.Your hand pumping along what you couldn’t take in your mouth.

You felt a hand on the back of your head, lightly tugging at your hair, forcing you to look up and keep eye contact with him.

“That’s it. Just like that. Lo haces tan bien, nena. You take my cock in your mouth so well. I can’t wait to see how you take it in that virgin pussy,” he growled.

“Así. Chúpelo.”

His comment made you whimper onto his cock.

You could feel a bit of wetness pooling onto your panties from his words, imagining how he was going to feel inside you. How he would stretch you out so deliciously.

Swirling your tongue around his cock, you continued bobbing your head, Miguel’s cock twitching slightly in your mouth. When you grazed the shaft with your teeth, Miguel let out a raspy moan, tilting his head back.

“Keep going, nena. Just like that. Just like that for me,” he growled.

You continued with your work, taking in as much of him as you could til you felt the tip hitting the back of your throat, causing your eyes to water. You knew he was getting close as he felt him twitching again.

“Hold that pretty head still for me,” Miguel ordered, and of course, you did as you were told. He gripped onto your hair a little tighter, keeping you still as he fucked into your mouth. You kept your jaw slacked for as long as you could before he pulled out of your mouth and came on your face with a grunt. Keeping your mouth open and tongue out, you caught the streams of cum, licking up and swallowing every bit of it.

Miguel then picked you up like you weighed nothing and laid you down on the bed. He removed the remainder of his clothing before doing the same with you.

You let out a soft gasp as his lips began trailing down your body, giving you goosebumps.

Miguel always worshiped your body any way he could.

As he made his way further down, he pushed your legs apart, hoisting them over his shoulders as he made his way to your aching, wet core. Licking his lips, he spread your pussy with his long fingers, groaning at the sight of your wetness. Your smell was intoxicating to him and it made his mouth water.

“Miguel,” you whimpered out his name just before feeling his tongue lapping over your folds, licking and sucking and slurping your juices. He was a man starved.

You quickly became a whimpering, moaning mess underneath him, hearing the sounds of him just slurping up your pussy like it was some sweet. You could feel his teeth grazing at your bundle of nerves, tongue swirling around and slipping into your pussy.

Grabbing onto his hair, you gave it a tug, bucking your hips against his face, needing more.

“Miguel, please!” You cried out. “I need you, please.”

“Need you to cum on my face first,nena,”Miguel muttered against your pussy, keeping his brutal pace with his mouth and tongue.

You let out a whine, tugging onto his hair as you continued to grind his face, feeling that familiar heat pooling in your lower abdomen. Your thighs began to quiver a bit, back arching.

He then quickly slipped a finger inside of you, then another, then he had three of his fingers inside you, pumping into your pussy.

“Miguel!” You gasped, feeling him curling his fingers, hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars.

“Need to stretch you out. Gotta get you nice and ready for my cock.”

You bit your lip, feeling his tongue and fingers overstimulating you. It wasn't much longer until you came.

Crying out his name, you did as he had desired, spilling yourself all over his face, feeling his warm tongue licking you all up without wasting a single drop of you. You needed more. You were aching for him. You were ready.

Miguel crawled over your body, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your skin before kissing you feverishly on your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue.

He kneaded your breasts with his hands, pinching and tugging at the nipples, making you cry out into his mouth.

"M-Miguel..please..” you started to beg, trying to grind your drenched pussy against his swollen cock. You didn’t want to wait any longer.

A low rumble was heard coming from the back of Miguel’s throat from your movements. You were soaking his cock with your never-ending flow of juices. He wasn’t going to be able to stall much longer.

Lifting his head up to look at you, he licked his lips. Normally, he would’ve gotten on with it already. But, this was you. You were his girlfriend. His most treasured person. He wanted this to be the best experience possible for you.

Despite the lust-filled look in his eyes, he still looked at you with a bit of concern. He wanted to make sure you were really positive about this. He could wait. He would wait a lifetime for you.

You could see the hint of concern on his face and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down.

“I’m ready, Miguel,” you assured him, giving him a sweet kiss on the lips. “Go ahead.”

Nodding his head, he did as instructed. He pushed your legs apart and aligned himself to your entrance, teasing you with his swollen tip, causing you to moan.

Ever so slowly, he began to push himself into you, causing you to let out a gasp as you felt his cock stretching you out.

“You okay?” He asked, stalling his movements. Last thing he was gonna do was force himself into you.

You nodded your head. You didn’t want him to stop.

“Relax for me, mi alma. I need you to relax. I’ll be able to slide in more smoothly,” he told you, caressing your cheek before he slowly began to push himself in.

You did your best to relax. But holy shit he was huge! You thought he was gonna rip you in half.

But, after a blink of an eye, he was seated comfortably inside of you. “There you go,” he breathed.

“I’m gonna start moving, okay?”

You just nodded your head.

Miguel started to move, slowly at first, checking in on you before he gradually increased speed.

Until he was fucking you into the mattress.

“Oh, Miguel!” You cried out, clawing at his back as he thrusted hard and deep inside of you, his hand wrapped around your throat.

Your eyes were rolled back, your back arched. This was your first time and it felt so so glorious.

“Like that, nena? Like it when I fuck you like a little slut?” Miguel growled, very pleased that you were taking him so well.

“Y-yes!” You sobbed as he lightly tightened his grip around your throat.

“Fuck! This pussy is so tight and delicious. Sucking me in,” he growled.

He glanced down to where your bodies met, seeing how his cock disappeared into your pussy. He was going balls deep, smacking them against your ass. The sound of skin to skin filled the room.

“Miguel!” You cried out his name, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to your release.

“I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum for me, nena. Let it out,” he rasped against your ear.

“Want this cock drenched with you. Gonna fill this pussy up so good with my seed.”

You whimpered, closing your eyes before you felt a hand gripping your face. “Look at me. I want those pretty eyes open while I fill you up,” he ordered.

You opened them and stared up at him, not daring to break eye contact. His gaze made your pussy clench, causing you to let out a mewl. His thrusts quickened, knowing that you were teetering on the edge. Just a little more and..you came with a cry, singing his name.

Miguel moaned out your name, feeling your walls fluttering around him as you climaxed.

He gave you a couple more thrusts, his movements growing sloppy before he came inside you.The feeling was like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It felt warm as he filled you up with his cum, causing you to let out a soft gasp, eyes wide.

Miguel slowly began to pull out of you once he was done, before you grabbed onto his wrist and shook your head.

“Again.”

“A-Again?” Miguel repeated in question, eyes growing wide.

“Yes. I..I really liked it,” you admitted, blushing a bit as you averted your gaze.

Miguel stared at you for a moment before he finally let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head. “You are going to be the death of me, nena.”

And so, a second time became a third, which then became a fourth.

Miguel had you face down and ass up as he rammed into your swollen, sore pussy. Filled to the brim already with his seed. You let out muffled cries, your face planted into a pillow as Miguel hit that sweet spot again and again.

“¡Mierda! Had I known you were gonna love this so much..” he muttered through gritted teeth.

“Who knew you’d be such a little slut for me, nena. It’s so sexy.”

Now that you were comfortable with sex and Miguel’s size, he wasn’t going to hold back. You had broken the dam.

“Now I’m gonna get to have my way with you whenever I want, right?”

You only let out a muffled moan in response right before Miguel grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head up, leaning down over your back as he continued his harsh thrusts.

“What was that?” He smirked, giving your ass a smack.

You let out a cry at the sting of his hand before nodding your head, feeling tears pricking from your eyes. “Y-yes!” You sobbed out before letting out a moan.

“That’s my girl,” Miguel growled, pressing you down onto the mattress to muffle your loud moans.

“You gonna cum for me, nena? Cum for me, pretty girl. Sé que puedes hacerlo. You did it three times already. Just give me one more and I’ll let you rest.”

You muffled a whine in response before Miguel grabbed you by the neck, wrapping a hand around your throat and lifted your head up. “Shh, not so loud. You’ll wake up the neighbors.”

“Miguel, please,” you whimpered. You could feel yourself getting closer to your climax.

“Miguel!”

Miguel grunted out your name, his free hand wrapping around your lower body, finding your clit and began to it feverishly.

“Cum for me. I want those sweet juices all around my cock, babygirl.”

Gripping onto the bed sheets, you came with a lewd moan, doing as you were told and covered Miguel with your climax as he continued to pivot his hips against you. The sweet sounds of skin hitting against skin, the sounds of his full balls hitting against your pussy, made you immediately orgasm again.

“Such a good little slut you are. Fuck, you’re so perfect,” Miguel growled before he emptied his seed inside of you yet again, filling you up til your overflowed.

Panting, you lifted your head up a bit and glanced behind you as Miguel slowly pulled himself out of you with a soft sigh. He caught your gaze and his look of lust faded away, giving you a gentle smile.

“I do think that’s enough for tonight, hmm?”

He laid down beside you, wrapping her arms around you and pulled you to his chest.

“Feeling okay?”

You nodded your head, letting out a shaky breath before smiling. “Yeah. I feel fine. Gonna be hella sore in the morning, but..” you shrugged.

Miguel laughed and nodded his head in agreement. “I suppose we did get a little carried away.”

“I liked it, though,” you admitted, feeling your face growing warm.

“Better than your toys?” Miguel questioned with a smirk.

“Oh, so much better,” you giggled, nodding your head.

“Thank you for being so patient with me, Miguel. And..I’m sorry I had you wait so long.”

He shook his head.”No, mi alma, don’t say that. I would’ve waited a lifetime for you. You know that. Yeah, I may have had my urges now and then but, you were definitely worth waiting for.”

He gave you a kiss on the forehead before pecking your lips a couple of times. “Get some sleep now. You’re gonna need the rest,” he stated with a chuckle.

Nodding your head, you nuzzled up against him and closed your eyes, letting sleep consume you.

Who knew you’d end up becoming addicted to sex.

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.

*nena -babe

*Lo haces tan bien, nena. - You do it so well, babe.

*Así. Chúpelo. - Like that. Suck it.

*¡Mierda! -Shit!

* Sé que puedes hacerlo. -I know you can do it.

*mi alma- mi soul

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara smut #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara x y/n

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amaranthineghost · 1 month

Text

BUT I LOVE YOU SO (PLEASE LET ME GO) ( lando norris. )

he loved her, but knew he had to let her go even if it killed him inside. still he left a paper trail back to him.

warnings: heavy angst I suppose

authors note: wrote this with 2 am motivation. it was about time I finally gave you guys some writing after a couple of months of an absence (I sincerely apologize). I was thinking of making this one of the parts of the mini series because it sort of fits what I want to do with it, but i figured since i hadn't put anything out in a while, it'd be its own separate thing <3

part 2 found here

HE LOVED HER with every fiber of his being. every cell in his body lived for her, he told himself. the blood that ran through his veins underneath his tan skin, all the way to his heart that he had so carefully carved to be able to beat for her. she was the center of his life, he thought.

he really thought.

because now, as he sat and watched her through the fingers over his face to hide the incoming tears, he wished he knew what he should've done. because he only knew what to do.

to let her go.

surely, it wasn't easy, it was never going to be. but alas it was inevitable for the lovers to part though at the time, they wished for it to be only shortly. but they were never coming back. they didn't want to believe, but their hearts knew.

it was a long time coming, but nothing could've prepared them for the heartbreak they forced upon themselves. it was like running blindly into the brick wall they had built together.

they didn't ever fight though. that was the one thing they took pride for their relationship, but now they realize it would've been better for petty arguments. because now, they realize they just don't work.

he was social, she was a homebody. he loved the night life, jumping between different clubs across cities he'd drag her to. of course, at the time she didn't mind being pulled into a club every so often, but it wasn't her scene. the media never was.

he knew that. she knew that it was his.

her hands shook with every folded article of clothing, occasionally wiping her nose with the back of her hand as she tried to avoid his figure altogether.

it wasn't like she didn't want him, in fact she needed him. but the relationship was doomed from the start, she knew yet she didn't care because at the time, everything was tunnel-visioned and he was the light at it's end.

her best moments were the ones lived with him, yet also the worst ones too. but she didn't regret it, it shaped them for their future. one where they knew they couldn't be by each other's side.

they knew heartbreak was looming over them, though the possibility of severing their relationship at any given moment didn't dawn on them till blood was pouring out the wound and there was nothing they could do to stop the bleeding.

they wouldn't try to, they knew better than to patch a wound that would never heal. they let it bleed onto the cold floors of their apartment. the one she had to leave.

nothing had happened in the way they had wanted, but when would it ever if everything was always working against them? it was the world versus them and they lost.

they accepted that defeat.

she tried her best to keep her composure as she packed, for whatever thin thread they held onto would snap if she broke down. because they both knew he couldn't leave her if she did, wouldn't let her go.

because she knew he'd give up his career, his dream, in a heartbeat if it had meant he could still hold her at night. he said forever, and he would make it happen.

it sent her over the edge, reliving their relationship as her fingertips creased memories and packed them into a suitcase, each item of clothing holding significance from their relationship. all from the beginning, she'd kept everything, and that wouldn't change.

she broke. she recognized the textures beneath her fingertips before she could look, her favorite dress. her favorite dress that he bought for her for their anniversary. she knew it was over.

as soon as the choked sobs left her lips, the armchair he sat on creaked as he simply stood and walked to console her. his arms wrapped around her shoulders as the warmth of his chest spread across her back, which did nothing but break her heart more.

she pressed her lips against his skin, though not in an intimate manner, but to hide her struggled cries as the tears down her cheeks began to stain his skin with mascara. she gripped his forearm and bicep tightly, leaning her head further against him.

" 'm sorry," she mumbled against his skin, sniffling as she struggled to catch a breath between sobs. she clenched her eyes shut, seeing dizzying shapes underneath her eyelids. she hoped it would stop the tears.

"shh," he shushed as his lips kissed her hair, muffling his words, "i should be sorry."

still he spoke ever so softly to her as the day they'd met and she couldn't help but fold for his tone of voice every time. even when she knew she shouldn't.

" you have nothing to be sorry for, lan..."

"i should've know the media would be too much for you, love." he mumbled against her hair, "i have everything to be sorry for."

"but i handled it." she peeled his arm from her skin, the streaks of black mascara almost making her lips twitch into a smile as it brought back memories. memories of crying-laughing and smearing mascara onto his arms. still, she held his wrist as she turned to face him, yet she didn't step back.

it'd be the last time they would be this close.

but part of him didn't want her to turn around. he loved when her makeup ran down her face as she cried tears of joy, with the bright sun shining down on her, acting as her personal spotlight, because she was the center of attention, with the wind blowing her hair.

he wished he could see her like that one more time before they left for good. because now he stood, resisting the urge to wipe the tears off her face. because now it wasn't happy, it was sullen. he wanted everything to be able to take care of her, to not let her leave. not yet.

he sighed, he had to give in. he always would, he couldn't help himself when he smudged the running mascara off her face, "fuck, that never works, does it?" he muttered in a soft panic as he realized he just made more of a mess.

she chuckled. she loved whenever he lightened the mood, intentionally or not, it was something she could always count on him to do, "every time, lando, every time." she replied through soft chuckles, sighing as she calmed.

he became serious once again as the smile slowly fell from his face and he wiped the black from his fingers, "but really, did you handle it?" he asked lowly, looking down at her with the same, soft look on his face she could always count on, "i know the media really affected you."

she sighed. there was no denying the exhaustion the media and paparazzi caused. they thought they were fine in the bubble of their apartment, but that bubble had long popped.

"you were born to shine, lando." she simply responded to not give him the truth he was expecting to hear, "that's just not me, we both know it."

"i know." he whispered, biting his lip and looking at her with a gloomy expression. he felt regret and guilt, " 'm sorry."

she shook her head, raising her hand to his jaw to trace the bone under his skin, “i know, but we're both at fault here. we should've known it wouldn't've worked out."

it hurt for them to hear, but it needed to be said, and he would've never said it. it was the truth.

she sniffled, backing away with the realization of how close they had become as she wiped away stray tears and turned back to the half-packed suitcase on the bed they once shared.

he watched her face as her eyes scanned the still heaps of clothing left for her to take, and boxes needing to be filled, "do you want some help?" he offered, his hand grabbing the back of her arm, caressing the skin as she jumped slightly at the contact.

she sighed and said through an awkward chuckle, "please," she reached again for clothes to resume her packing, " 'm afraid i'll change my mind if i stay too much longer."

her words hurt, like daggers slicing through his skin. another wound they couldn't heal.

"would it be that bad?"

his response hurt more. she hadn't meant it like that, but words were subjective. it was like he had taken the knife from beneath his flesh and twisted back into hers.

"no, lan, i didn't mean it like that-" she dropped the shirt she held to place a hand on his bicep, which he shrugged off.

" 'ts fine," he spoke without a tone in his voice, which was odd for him. His focus was on her clothes in his hands and somewhat neatly packed away into one of her many suitcases.

"but i just meant-"

"listen, 'ts fine, we aren't together anymore so we don't have to fix things, or try to."

she squirmed under the dagger as it twisted deeper into her flesh. the air was tense, too silent for her liking and his new attitude threw her off.

it made her realize that maybe there was something more to them that didn't work. because surely any two people who loved each other would make it work out.

it didn't make sense though. maybe it never would.

after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence between them where the only sound was folding of cloth and zipping up certain spots in her suitcase, he turned his back and left the room.

she watched him leave from the corner of her eye, but she didn't stop him. she wanted to though. she wanted so desperately to grab him by the arm and force him to talk to her, but she wouldn't. he was right. they weren't dating.

besides they couldn't even fix what they had before.

minutes later he reemerged with a hand stuffed in his hoodie pocket and another behind his back with something he hid from her. she couldn't get a peak before he slipped it into one of the boxes. she shrugged it off as something she had forgotten.

he returned to helping her fold, but this time with his back towards her. it pained her, she didn't want him to turn his back on her, yet in a couple of hours, she would walk through their apartment door, her back turned to him. it was unfair, she knew.

the tears this time were silent as they streamed down her face, but she didn't make a sound. she watched his actions for a solid five minutes, seeing his best attempts folding her clothes, for her. he was never the best at it, as she had poked fun at him for it in the past. it hurt to think she would never see the difference of neatness in her closet anymore.

her attention was piqued when she saw his movement halt, quickly resuming with a messily put-together hoodie, one she didn't recognize to be hers.

she didn't get to look before he flipped back the top and zipped it up to go with the others.

she didn't have time to wipe the fresh tears from her face when he turned around after pulling the suitcase from the bed. he paused, dropping the handle.

in a swift motion, he pulled her into his chest. she couldn't stop herself from breaking down in his arms, his hand wrapped around her head, the other around her back. they stayed silent, apart from her sobs into his shirt. he didn't care if she ended up staining it.

they swayed for a while, longer than they should've, but at least now she had calmed down. though tears still streaming down her face and a headache forming in her head, they pulled apart slightly.

her hair was messy, her nose, cheeks, eyes and lips were red, her eyes were puffy and tears stained her face, but she was still prettier than ever.

he couldn't help but tuck the hair in front of her face behind her ear, his hand resting on her jaw.

for the last time, they kissed.

to him, it was like he was taking his last breath of air, or gulp of water for the rest of his life. he was taking what he could.

the taste of her salty tears, the wetness from her cheeks now on his, the hands in her messy hair pushing her desperately closer because he didn't want to let her go.

they sighed when they parted, his teeth grazing her bottom lip at a desperate attempt for more. more time.

they both stepped back, staying silent once again. they didn't have anything to say because their actions said it all. he stepped back to the suitcase he dropped and started moving them out to her car, which had considerably more trunk space than any of his.

it felt like when she was first moving out for college, with stacks of boxes and plenty of suitcases to make it seem like she was fleeing the country.

it all ended the second she walked out the door, but she didn't have to turn her back on him as he walked her to her car, opening the door.

one last hug between them. the last contact.

but they still followed each other's lives.

she would watch his races from the comfort of her new living room couch because she still worried about him the same amount from when they were dating. she noticed his suffering performance, though she sighed every time he crossed the finish line unscathed.

part of him knew she was watching for him.

he still followed her private accounts, liking the posts of the lifestyle that he could never live. it just wasn't his to experience, just like his was never hers to live either. most nights spent drunk in the dj booth, or out to dinner with other drivers, the social life had never been her scene.

he knew.

he knew all along that it was never going to end as they wished in the moment. they stared at their future without fully knowing what was waiting, yet they didn't step down.

months had passed. their lives were supposed to have gotten better, but they could both see they were both suffering.

boxes still unpacked from when she first left, she had never gotten around to fully moving in. still suitcases and cardboard boxes laid around the kitchen of her new apartment.

she felt like she should open them, like she needed to. if not now, would she ever?

boxes full of old memories from her childhood, or stuffed animals she had always convinced lando to buy for her. until there was one box left untouched. she hadn't remembered packing this one.

carefully, she sliced the tape and pulled back the cardboard. she was speechless.

his race helmet. his race helmet he dedicated to her.

dedicated for the anniversary of the day they met. for the race of the country where their eyes first found each other.

it had details about her. her favorite colors, places, things. it had her name, big enough to see from a while away.

he loved this helmet. and he gave it to her.

all she could do now was hug the last remainder of him and cry. she wasn't sure if letting him go was the right or wrong decision, but it felt wrong to question it now.

when she pulled away from the helmet and sniffling her nose, she noticed a piece of paper lodged into the visor. carefully, she pulled it out, unfolding it to see the familiar and horrible handwriting of lando norris.

she was lucky she learned to read it over the years or she would've been screwed.

blue suitcase. for when you're ready.

out of all of the suitcases she had taken, only one was blue. the one he had packed.

she hastily picked herself off the floor, carefully setting the helmet down on the kitchen counter before dropping back down on her knees and desperately unzipped it.

she tossed through every pocket and article of clothing packed into the suitcase, inspecting every single item. until she found it.

of course, he had given her one of his hoodies, but it was not just any of his hoodies. once again, a favorite of his he wore regularly. he gave it to her. it smelled like him still. curse him for spraying cologne on it.

she felt the fabric beneath her fingertips before slipping it on. a smile crept onto her lips as she went and sat back down on her couch, the TV had been playing FP3 in the background before quali in a couple hours time.

she pulled her blanket back over her, slipping her hands into the pockets. her brows furrowed when she felt yet another piece of paper, pulling it out to reveal even more horrendous handwriting from her beloved racer.

will let me know you're watching?

any day now love.

when the nights get lonely, i'll be waiting.

whenever you're ready.

i miss you, i'm sorry

ynusername

liked by landonorris and 4037 others

ynusername I don't know if i'm ready for this...

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proofread by @foreveralbon <333

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makoodles · 1 year

Text

ミ tìtunu

i'm so excited to be posting for my man tsu'tey, because he is criminally under-rated. (look at that gif! i'm going feral).

🍓pairing: tsu'tey x fem human reader

🍓word count: 4k

🍓tags: she/her pronouns for reader, alien courting rituals, misunderstandings, mentions of vomiting (not too graphic, but a warning all the same!)

masterlist

part one | part two | part three (nsfw) | part four (nsfw)

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

Life is not going how Tsu’tey had intended.

It starts with the arrival of Jakesully, the demon’s acceptance into the clan, the ensuing war against the Sky People, and Tsu’tey’s own uncomfortably close brush with death after falling from the human’s large flying machine. His whole life has been disrupted, his plans and motivations, his hopes and his expectations. Jakesully is a moron, but he is Tsu’tey’s brother now. Bonds have been forged in fire and blood as they fought together against the demon invaders from the sky, and Tsu’tey has no choice but to accept his fate. It will take time to become accustomed to his new role within the clan, no longer as a future leader but always as a protector, but he is adjusting as well as he can.

While he has suffered many blows to his pride in recent months, not least his grievous injury that has prevented him from taking part in his usual routine with the rest of the clan’s warriors, he is still a blooded male of the clan. Now that Neytiri has mated with Jakesully, Tsu’tey himself is free to pick a mate of his own, unburdened by the expectations of leadership. It’s both a liberating and humiliating thought, and he has to admit that it does his wounded pride some good to be on the receiving end of mating interest from so many attractive prospects within the clan.

Any of the Omaticayan women that have shown interest in him so far would be perfectly respectable choices. Txisma is one of the best weavers among the People, her creations sturdy and reliable while also colourful and beautiful. Ninat is the best singer of the clan, her voice bright and clear as her songs bring joy to all who listen. Even Saeyla, ever so consistently loyal despite the fact that he has already rejected her, would be a perfectly respectable choice as a mate.

But the real, ultimate indignity of it all is that Tsu’tey can’t manage to drum up any interest in any of them. No matter how much they smile at him so coyly and prettily, no matter how impressive their displays of skill are, no matter how quick and deadly and proficient they are at fighting, he can’t manage to force himself to look at them with anything more than detached appreciation.

Perhaps the Sky People had injured him beyond repair when they had hurt him and pushed him from their enormous metal bird.

That is the only reason he can think of to explain why the one person who has captured his thoughts so wholly is you, the little human demon that is constantly lurking around the Omaticaya camp.

In the beginning, his fixation is driven by aggravation and fury. After the destruction of Hometree, the People move as one to a spot just south of the Well of Souls and set up a temporary encampment there. When the humans that remain after the RDA have left his planet are invited by Jakesully to their new settlement to spend time with them in a show of tentative co-operation, Tsu’tey spends the whole time scowling in your direction. Jakesully had proven himself a good leader and has earned Tsu’tey’s respect, which is perhaps the only reason that he initially accepted the presence of these Sky People in their new home. Even with his reluctant acceptance, he meets the tiny demons with suspicion and hostility. You, especially.

You infuriate him. Too small, terribly soft and squishy, unable to hold a bow or wield a spear or do anything useful. You came here with the rest of the Sky People, but you are not a warrior like Jakesully. Instead you spend all of your time reading books and studying the plants of his planet. But you don’t even study them in any useful way! You sketch them and take notes, and make frequent exclamations about how wonderful it all is, but you don’t do anything useful, at least as far as Tsu’tey can see.

It had taken him a terribly long time to realise what was happening.

In the beginning, his eyes had cut towards you with animosity and mistrust – your interest in the plant life and the world around you had seemed so odd after the destruction the rest of your people had caused, and he watched you intently for any signs that you meant to cause harm to the People. But those signs never come.

You were polite, interested in his culture, and awed by nature and Eywa all around. You even learned the language of the People, though admittedly with a heavy accent. It’s… more endearing than it should be.

It takes a while for him to realise that he’s watching you far more than he watches the other little demons that study his people. It gets even worse when you decide to practise your clumsy language skills with the clan – somehow, it leads to you targeting him. Not even his fiercest scowls seem to discourage your attempts to converse with him, and soon he finds himself honestly looking forward to seeing you, to speaking with you.

It is an illness. Some sort of infection that has taken hold in him since his injury in the war against the Sky People. That can be the only reason that he is more preoccupied with you than with the very real mating prospects he has among the People.

He has come to terms with it. At first, he kept his shameful little fixation to himself, but he’s never been the most subtle of men. Others soon notice the direction of his stares, the amount of time he spends with you, the way his ears flick and his tail coils whenever he’s around you.

Everyone, it seems, except you.

“Hello, little demon,” He murmurs as he approaches you one afternoon, his tail coiled low around his ankles.

You’re sitting close to the edge of the forest, beside one of the large anìheyu plants. All your silly little notebooks are surrounding you, and though your head is ducked as you sketch its likeness in your book, you look up when you hear his voice.

You laugh at his customary greeting, as unbothered by his gruff demeanour as ever. He is grateful that you are not offended; he has never been good at being soft, though he tries.

“Hey, big guy.” You call back, a wide smile beginning to spread across your face. “What are you up to?”

Tsu’tey’s fingers twitch. Your face may be alien, but your features are not so dissimilar from that of the Na’vi. He finds you… attractive, in your own way, though it pains him a little to admit it.

“I wished to join in on the hunt today,” He murmurs as he comes to a stop in front of you, “But Mo’at has forbidden it.”

He is still recovering from his wounds, and he has found himself with an enormous amount of free time to spend; courtesy of Mo’at, who has been borderline vicious in her vehemence that he rests from his duties to heal. It stings his pride, but he respects the Tsa’hik too much to question her orders.

Your eyes drop to his battle scars, and he finds himself flexing subconsciously under your gaze.

“That’s probably fair, right?” You ask, tilting your head. “You’re still healing-”

“I am still strong.” He interrupts, a little more forcefully than he had intended to. It’s important that you know that.

You just smile, little white teeth poking out as you bite at your lower lip. “I know that.”

That pleases him, and he rolls his shoulders back before sinking down into a crouch in front of you. Your eyes dart from his face to his torso to his legs and then back up again, and he feels his stung pride inflate under the weight of your shy gaze.

“I will not join the rest of the warriors on their hunt,” He murmurs, his gaze resting on your face as he tries to read every expression that flickers across it, “But I still wish to go on a hunt of my own. You.. are welcome to join me.”

You are difficult to read. You do not respond to his more coy flirtations; you never seem to notice when he communicates micro-expressions, his ears flicking back or the playful movements of his tail. And yet you perk up at his invitation, your eyes bright and interested as you carefully set your notes aside.

“Really?” You ask cautiously, your eyes flickering towards the longbow resting across his back.

When Tsu’tey just nods, you shove yourself to your feet with an eager little laugh. It feels like a weight is lifted off his shoulders at your acceptance of his offer – though he manages to keep his expression neutral, he can’t control the anticipatory little flick of his tail.

This is an opportunity he is eager to take advantage of; as he leads the way into the forest, he makes a point of keeping you in his sights at all times. You’re so small and useless, and it’s good to feel as though he can protect someone after his close brush with death.

Marching through the jungle is slow-going. You insist on stopping several times to peer at some of the plants that you’re curious about, and Tsu’tey just stands and waits each time. He wants to display his patience, though it’s admittedly never been one of his strongest virtues.

“Come, small one.” He says, his tail flicking impatiently even as he tries to accommodate your curiosity. Patience, he thinks to himself.

“What is this?” You ask in your broken Na’vi, your accent heavy and clumsy.

Tsu’tey’s ears twitch. He likes the sound of your stupid accent more than he should.

“Utral utu mauti,” He murmurs, stepping closer to you before saying in his own accented English, “Type of fruit tree.”

You make a soft sound of understanding, before nodding. “I’ve read about these! They grow utumauti fruit, right?”

Tsu’tey hums confirmation, though he’s not looking at the plant. He’s too busy watching your face.

“Come,” He murmurs, “You will watch me hunt.”

The two of you continue on through the jungle. Tsu’tey tracks prints, and you watch him. He adds more flourishes to his tracking and stalking than are entirely necessary; he is hyper-conscious under your curious eyes.

You are so much smaller than him, barely reaching his navel, so he keeps his pace slow and even to ensure you can keep up with him.

When the two of you finally catch up to a wild yerik, luckily separated from the herd, Tsu’tey feels his heart beating eagerly in his chest. This is a chance to display his physical prowess. To prove that even injured, he is a fearsome warrior and hunter.

Your eyes are trained on him as he nocks an arrow and prepares to loose. Your gaze trails along his bicep and his chest, and he feels his pride flare all over again. When he looses the arrow, it finds its mark with ease.

He leaps from the cover of the trees and rushes to the fallen animal, snatching his knife from his waist and bending by the yerik’s head to murmur the customary words of thanks before ending the creature’s pain.

Cautiously, you step out after him and stare with wide eyes.

“Wow,” You murmur, stepping close to him. “It’s so big.”

The yerik is not so large or impressive as other prey, such as a talioang, yet your awe pleases Tsu’tey greatly. He can’t suppress the smug expression that grows across his face as he secures his prey with a rope to prepare to haul it back to the village.

He pauses halfway through tying a knot around the yerik’s middle so that he can look up to you, a self-satisfied sort of lazy smirk curling around his mouth. “I told you I am still strong.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of your mouth, and you avert your eyes all of a sudden. You’re staring down at your feet, your fingers fidgeting together, but he can see that your mouth is smiling.

“Yes,” You say quietly, “Very strong.”

That night, Tsu’tey’s catch is prepared and roasted over the cook fire alongside the catch from the larger hunt. The village is alight with celebration – the People sing and dance, children running around screaming with laughter and younglings leaping about together. The light-natured atmosphere is infectious, and Tsu’tey finds himself feeling more cautiously upbeat than he has in a while now.

“I should probably head back to the science outpost,” You mention at some point as the village fills with laughter and chat and the smell of succulent meat cooking. “I don’t want to intrude on-”

“Stay.” Tsu’tey interrupts without thinking.

You pause, obviously surprised. He’s been most outspoken about how the small demons should not be allowed to intrude upon the People’s customs or private rituals. No doubt you’re confused by his sudden change of heart – he can’t explain it himself.

But you agree, a tentative smile blooming across your face.

Tsu’tey is not oblivious to the glances that the two of you get as he settles next to you – you’ve chosen to sit a little bit away from the large fire around which the rest of the tribe gathers. No doubt you feel self-conscious of the fact that you don’t belong here, but Tsu’tey is feeling bold tonight. He is content as he settles next to you, despite the curious glances he receives from his People.

In his hands, he carries two portions of yerik meat from his kill wrapped in a leaf – it is a wholesome, healthy meal, and he hands a portion to you with a pleased flick of his tail.

You accept your portion politely, but he notices that you don’t immediately move to eat it. Instead, you spend a moment peering at it as though inspecting the meat carefully.

The longer you go without trying the food he has caught for you, the more antsy he becomes. He bites into his own dinner, casting frequent sideways glances your way as he chews. Was it not cooked to your taste? Did you not like the way it was wrapped in the leaf? Was it the meat itself that was the problem? Perhaps you didn’t even like yerik meat. Was this your way of turning him down?

“You do not like it?” He asks at last, unable to contain himself any longer.

You look up at that, apparently a little startled. “No! I mean, yes! I like it just fine!”

And yet, you haven’t touched it.

Too late, Tsu’tey realises that you’re still wearing your strange face covering that you need to breathe. Ah, how foolish of him. You aren’t able to take it off to eat.

Embarrassed now, Tsu’tey feels his ears flatten back. It was an obvious oversight on his part, a stupid mistake. How could he not have anticipated this problem? Such a mistake makes him look inconsiderate.

“Ah. Your face covering-” He begins, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish.

“No big deal!” You blurt hastily, sitting up straighter.

You’re so much smaller than him, dwarfed by his stature as you blink up at him. The size difference is going to Tsu’tey’s head – he can’t stop looking at the way your much smaller hands are wrapped around your food, at the way you’ve pressed a little closer to him.

He watches as you rip some of the meat out with your fingers, before taking a deep breath. You push the mask up for just a second, just long enough to push the food into your mouth before quickly reattaching the mask over your face again. Through the strange clear material protecting your face, Tsu’tey watches as you chew. The sight settles something inside of him, and some of the tension leaks out of his shoulders as he watches you eat his offering.

He’s not the only one watching you eat. The sight of him offering you food, and of you accepting it, has caught the attention of several members of the clan. The connotations are obvious, whether Tsu’tey chooses to think about them or not – if the sight of one of the clan’s foremost warriors participating in tentative courtship rituals with a Sky Person is shocking or disturbing in any way, they hide it well. It’s mainly surprised curiosity in the eyes of their observers.

“It’s good.” You murmur, sending him a quick smile. “The spices are different from anything I’m used to – it’s interesting.”

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes with gratification, satisfied with your acceptance of his advances. He should have known you would be interested in the spices used to cook the food, too. You’re such a curious little thing, always wanting to learn more. Your intelligence is commendable, and sets you apart from the rest of the tawtute.

You take another few bites of food, stuffing little handfuls under your mask quickly before replacing it back. Tsu’tey feels his chest puff the more you eat, his pride assuaged by the sight.

“You are hungry?” He asks, ducking his head a little closer to you. “You would like more?”

“No,” You murmur, but you give him a soft smile to soften your refusal. “Thank you. This is plenty.”

Tsu’tey settles back, his tail flicking in contentment. You may be a little demon that came from the sky, but having you sit huddled at his side eases the knot in his stomach that’s been present since his injury. He tries not to think too much about it.

A quick glance around shows that the eyes that had been watching them have shifted away, and he relaxes a little further. It’s mortifying enough to be offering such advances to a tawtute without the eyes of the clan watching.

You cough, and clear your throat. The sound draws his attention back to you, his eyes flickering carefully over your face. You appear a little flustered, and his brow draws down in a frown.

“What is wrong?” He asks carefully, narrowing his eyes as he watches you.

“Nothing.” You say hastily, but he sees the way you shift next to him. Your expression has changed a little, but he can’t quite interpret it. You lack the long ears and tail of the Na’vi, and so he finds it difficult to analyse your micro-expressions, but even still he can tell that something has changed.

“Tell me.” He demands, shifting to face you head on. “I will fix.”

You smile at him again, but this one seems more forced. It’s almost a grimace. Your hand moves to your stomach, and he follows the motion with a frown.

“It’s nothing, I just…” You wince. “It didn’t occur to me before, but.. I’m not sure how well humans can digest Pandoran meat.”

Tsu’tey’s frown only deepens. “I do not know this word. Digest. What does it mean?”

“It-” You begin, but you cut yourself off as an odd tremor moves across your face.

In a move that startles him into rearing back, you leap to your feet and make a run for the woods. It only takes a moment for Tsu’tey to recover from his surprise, and then he pushes himself up to his feet too. Ignoring the heads that have turned in his direction thanks to the commotion, he takes off after you.

It doesn’t take much effort to catch up to you, considering the difference in the size of your legs. You’ve only just managed to reach the treeline before falling to your knees, and by the time he catches up to you, you’ve torn your breathing mask off to allow you to retch into the vegetation.

Tsu’tey’s ears flick back, watching uneasily as you vomit. He has never been very good at providing comfort, but he reaches out to touch your shoulder all the same.

You retch again, then fumble to put your mask back on so you can breathe.

“Oh no, don’t look at me,” You practically wail, ducking your head down so he can’t see your face. “This is so humiliating.”

“What is wrong?” Tsu’tey asks insistently, lowering himself to crouch beside you as his tail twitches anxiously. “I will call for Mo’at-”

“Don’t you dare!” You gasp, reaching back blindly to grab at him even as you gag again.

Tsu’tey bares his teeth in frustration, growing increasingly more restless. He hates feeling helpless, and he doesn’t understand what is happening with you. “You are sick.”

“No,” You gasp. The worst of the gagging seems to be over, and you push yourself back to sit clumsily on your behind. “No, it was just… I don’t think Pandoran food is compatible with human digestive systems.”

His tail flicks again as he watches you, growing uneasy. “What does this mean?”

“I can’t eat the same food as you.” You say, before ducking your head and groaning a little as another wave of nausea hits you.

Tsu’tey goes still, watching you close your eyes and wince. The food he had provided you with has made you ill. Humiliation settles low in his stomach. So this is why you were reluctant to try it – you were unsure if it was safe for you to eat.

His attempt to impress you has ended up making you sick. The only thing that saves him from total disgrace is the fact that you’re very visibly flustered and apologetic about it.

“I’m sorry,” You insist, clearly mortified as you raise your head to squint at him through streaming eyes. “Really, it was very nice-!”

His ears twitch low and his tail wrapped tightly around his leg in contrition. “I did not know-”

“I know you didn’t,” You interrupt hastily. It’s clear that you feel thoroughly embarrassed about the situation – you can hardly meet his eyes. “Please, don’t worry about it.”

Your reassurance helps, but only slightly. He still feels entirely humiliated, and he watches with dismay as you finally push yourself to your feet.

“I think,” You begin without making eye contact, “That I should probably get back to the outpost.”

His stomach plummets, and his pride with it. This has gone so terribly wrong. He’s not even really sure what he was trying to do here – what was he even thinking?

“Yes.” He says stiffly. “You should.”

Your expression shifts a little, and you nod. The air between you both has changed slightly; gone was the easy camaraderie that you have both worked so hard on for the past few months, to be replaced with an awkward tension.

“I’m sorry,” You say again, your voice low and embarrassed. “I.. the meat was very nice. Thank you. I’m sorry about… you know.”

That… is slightly more promising.

Tsu’tey stands, then reaches down to offer his hand to help you. For a moment, you just stare at his outstretched hand as though you can’t figure out what he’s doing. He draws on his patience, and is rewarded for it when you reach out and take his hand, allowing him to guide you back to your feet. Your palm is warm and dry against his, your hand so small and soft that he gets momentarily distracted.

You smile at him again, and finally this one seems more genuine, though it’s a little abashed. Tsu’tey’s ears flick towards you cautiously, testingly, and you keep smiling.The knot in his stomach loosens a little.

Perhaps his chances aren’t entirely decimated after all. Next time, he will try gift-giving instead.

#tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey #tsu'tey imagines #avatar #avatar x reader #avatar way of water #na'vi x reader #na'vi x human #terato #avatar 2009

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dilfl0v3rss · 9 months

Note

ma’am we need some more ony smut.. you can never have too much 🙂

RAHHHHH😛

“you missed me baby?” ony grumbled, his hand tightening around the back of your neck as he fed you the deepest strokes you could possibly imagine. his dick was hitting all the right places and you were completely out of it. you thought it was a good idea to take a break from everything negative in your life and try to be happier and cleaner. which was great to ony until you sent him that wack ass text that he was included in the negative part of your life. the drug dealer was appalled, his body filled with shock and anger as he read your message over and over again.

future bm👩🏾‍🍼

‘this not gon work out no more ony’

‘you too toxic for me and i will never be truly happy and find a man that’ll treat me the way i deserve if i keep fuckin wit you’

ony was furious, but as the chill guy he was he decided against coming to your house or popping up at your job. he knew you would come back to him eventually because there was absolutely no way any man could be better for you than him no matter how “toxic” for you he was. he was a toxin you loved. all he sent was a quick ‘bet’ before moving on with his day, acting as if your words didn’t bring the worst anger out of him. days went by, turning into weeks and before you knew it a month had passed. you were living the happier life you knew you deserved and even started messing with a new guy. jean treated you nice, always picking you up from work and taking you to your favorite spots to eat. he kept you happy and healthy and ate pussy like you wouldn’t believe, but that wasnt enough.

he didn’t check you the way you wanted him to, wouldn’t manhandle you in the way that made you want to melt into the sheets, didn’t say things that would make your thighs shake or heart skip a beat. he didn’t fuck you the way you wanted, the way ony did. so it was only natural that to cut him loose in the end, and take your ass right back where you belong.

“hey mama how was your break” ony said with a smirk as he looked you up and down from his front door. his shirt was nowhere to be found as he stood in his durag and sweatpants. you kept your eyes trained on the ground, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing how needy you looked right now. “can i come in?” you whispered, your small voice sending a signal to his dick that it was time to wake up. ony loved how shy you got when you came to back to him, the feeling of pride creeping into his chest every time as he looked at your much smaller form practically beg for him without saying a word.

all he did was move to the side, leaving just enough room for you to walk in before closing the door behind you. ony took in the sight of your outfit. a pretty, yellow sundress that hugged all of your curves as well as some fuzzy little slides that showed the pretty pink paint on your toes. of course these were items he’s bought you, as well as the gold necklace and matching anklet with his initial on it. ony couldn’t help but smile at your eagerness for forgiveness, his dick now fighting with the restraints of his sweats as he watched your ass move as you walked towards his room in the dress he bought you.

before you made it to the bed, you felt his big hands grab at your waist, pulling your back towards his chest as he spoke lowly in your ear. “before we do this i gotta know…..you let him fuck you?” a rush of fear ran through your body, stilling you as you tried your hardest not to look guilty. the feeling of his dick poking your ass distracting you as you took a small breath of air. your action told ony everything he needed to know, a tinge of anger rushing through him as he moved his hand flat on your back before slowly bending you over the bed. “i-it wasn’t like you tho daddy” you whined, your voice dripping with fear as you tried to ease the pain of your actions, but it didn’t work. ony just continued on, lifting up your dress to find that you weren’t wearing any panties before slowly freeing his dick from the confines of his pants. “don’t run”

he thrusted into you without prep or warning, feeding you each and every inch of his dick as you screamed bloody murder in the sheets. your wetness already surrounding him as you felt him already begin to move in and out of you. “must be crazy” his voice was low and taunting, the feeling of his rough palms on your ass making your brain turn to mush. “w-we was never t’gether thooo, and y-you was mean t’me pa” you whined, your words slurred as you tried your best to reason with this man, but ony just scoffed. his hips moving harder and he slid his hand to the back of your neck. he pushed your face deep into the sheets, letting you release your screams there as he angled his dick downward towards your stomach.

“bitch we was always together. who pussy is this? say it” you opened your mouth to speak, but no words came through. just spit and tears reaching the sheets as your walls clenching tighter and tighter around his dick. usually ony would let this slide, but since you liked to go out fucking niggas he had to be a little more stern with you. a hard slap was sent to your ass, the sound bouncing off the walls of his room. the feeling lingered on the fatty flesh as you screamed into the sheets at the contact. “answer me when m’talking t’you mama. unless you want me t’stop” his threat instantly brought you back, your whines much more audible as you lifted your face from the sheets.

“n-nooo don’t stoppp” a smirk planted on ony’s face at your desperation, his hand rubbing the hot skin of your ass while he looked at the white ring of cream surrounding his dick. “then answer me” your pussy fluttered as you told him the words he wanted to hear. “s’yours daddy. s’your pussy” a smirk crept on his face, the golds on the canines of his teeth making an appearance as he moved both of his hands to your waist, pushing your stomach to the bed completely before quickening to a relentless pace. “uhh huh, now tell daddy you sorry” ony’s deep voice sent many shivers down your spine, your arch going even deeper as you felt his dick in your stomach. he pulled your head out of the sheets by your hair, giving you just enough room to talk to him as he continued his brutal pace on your sore pussy. “m’sorry daddy m’never gonna talk to him again”

satisfied with your response, ony gave you a quick “good girl” before easing up just a little, his dick hitting your g spot a little gentler as he pulled your back towards his chest, his hand around your middle as he moved his other towards your chin. his brown eyes looked deep into yours as he searched for any lie, but he found none. ony smiled as he watched your face contort into many ones of pleasure. your release rushing towards you as you fucked your self back on his dick. “you missed daddy baby? missed me right here?” he said, his hand rubbing on your stomach as he felt your walls clench in agreement. you nodded your head, letting out a small “yea” before moving your hand towards your chest, your eyes never leaving his as you pushed down on where your heart was. “m-missed you r-right here too” ony felt his heart swell at the sight, his grills completely bare to you as he gave you a happy smile.

“missed you more mama, next time you touch another nigga ima kill him y’hear me?” your pussy fluttered at his words, eyes struggling to stay straight as you mirrored ony’s smile.

“i hear you”

#aot x black reader #onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black!reader #aot smut #onyankopon smut #aot onyankopon x black reader #aot onyankopon x black!reader #aot onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x black!y/n

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dilatorywriting · 5 months

Note

Congrats on the milestone! It's always a delight to see your stuff pop up on my dash ^.^ I'd love to see prompt 19 from the dialog that makes your reader swoon with the guy of your choice (smut welcome). Hope the bot infestation takes a chill pill!

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 1.7k

Prompt 19: "If you don’t stop looking at my lips without doing anything about it, I will take you right here on this counter."

🌶️ Warning for Mild Spice

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

Vil was drunk.

Or well, Vil was as inebriated as he would most likely ever allow himself to be in any sort of public setting to speak of. Which was still above and beyond what you had ever seen of him up to that point. Which was of course to say that he was still walking effortlessly in his sky-high heels and maintaining every bit of the decorum with which he so usually prided himself. The only reason you could tell the difference at all was because you knew this stupid man better than the back of your own hand. And the loose-limbed ease about him combined with the lolling smirk on his lips was as telltale of a sign as any. Not that you could blame him. Winning any award was certainly an honor. Beating out Neige Leblanche of all people would probably have had him drunk on success even without the literal booze to help him along.

He rolled the half-empty flute of bubbling champagne between his fingers and tipped it towards you like an offering.

“Care to try some?”

You huffed, far too fond to be properly exasperated. “At least one of us needs to be able to drive home.”

And your tolerance was, unfortunately, not great. At least, not for the horrifically potent nonsense that this magic-infused world called ‘wine.’ The last time you’d drank during one of these events you’d wound up nearly beating a rude reporter with his own camera, but thankfully had only had the coordination to call the prying ass all sorts of colorful and very impolite things. (‘Secretly fucking Neige Leblanche’ indeed. Vil hadn’t even asked his PR team to spin that one. Just loudly demanded that your indignation should speak for itself and that any such inquiries into your private affairs would be handled personally in the future.)

Vil snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll be calling for a car either way.”

He tilted the glass again, and you were forever grateful that he wasn’t a sloppy drunk. You didn’t care if he spilled booze all down your front and stained the stupid, too-expensive outfit he’d all but sewed you into, but the fussing that would ensue would be torturous.

“Just a sip,” he coaxed. “I promise you’ll like it.”

You scrunched up your nose and sighed, plucking the flute from his hand. You went to take a small sip and one of those perfectly painted nails reached up to tap irritably at the rim.

“What?” you frowned.

He turned the glass until the other curved side sat at your lips and gave another pointed tap tap tap.

“From here.”

You went nearly cross-eyed trying to stare down at the rim, and with a bit of determination were able to finally pick out the traces of an imprint from the actor’s otherwise impeccably maintained lipstick.

“Are you serious?” you snorted a laugh.

Those perfectly lined lips of his pursed into something that you would dare to call a pout.

“If you’re not going to let me kiss you in public, then you can at least give me this,” he huffed.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, lips still twitching far too much in amusement. “That was your rule. ‘For my privacy,’ you said.”

He waved you off with a scoff. “Please. That was only when we were keeping entirely out of the public eye. I could hardly complain about it now.”

Now, he said. Like he hadn’t graduated from NRC less than a year ago. Like your introduction into his world of stage lights and red carpets hadn’t all been meticulously curated and released only a month or so prior. You blinked, a bit owlishly. And then decided to indulge his petulance and took a neat, slow slip from right where he’d tapped. Vil was always honest, brutally so. He had no compunctions about telling you what he wanted, when he wanted it, and how it was going to happen. So it wasn’t like the touch of alcohol swimming through his system was going to make him more truthful, just… perhaps more loose with it, it seemed. Less manicured, in his speech.

The model looked endlessly pleased and reached out to snatch the glass back. He lifted it back to his own lips—carefully placed, just as he’d demanded of you—and took a long drag.

“There,” he grinned, all smug satisfaction. Like tricking you into an indirect kiss was any sort of accomplishment to begin with. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You were going to burst out laughing, and someone was going to get it on camera, and Vil’s stupid assistant would never let you live it down.

“I guess not,” you hummed. “How much longer, do you think. Until we can go home?��

Vil took another sip, drinking down the last drops of the sparkling concoction. He deposited the empty glass on a passing server’s tray and turned on you with a sharp smirk that was far too wide and far too wine-warm.

“That anxious to get me alone, darling?”

Oh he was really gone.

You grabbed his hand and hauled him towards a more secluded alcove. Because he hadn’t exactly shouted that, but enough curious heads had turned your way that you weren’t going to chance it. ‘Exclusive after party,’ your ass. No reporters didn’t mean no wandering eyes and ears. And he may have been punch drunk enough not to give two shits, but his PA would certainly make the two of you ‘care’ come morning.

“We’re in public,” you hissed, cheeks dark and ears warm. “Don’t say things like that!”

“Oh?” he crooned, stopping in his tracks. You gave another tug but it was useless. Stupidly towering height aside, Vil was all lean muscle and stubborn determination. If you were moving him at all, it was only because he was humoring you enough to step to your demands. “But that’s what you are, isn’t it?” He leaned forward and you could smell the pop of alcohol off his tongue. “Or at least, you certainly act the part of ravenous lover well enough.”

“Really,” you snapped, hushed. “If you’re going to be like this, do you have to use those stupid lines on top of it?”

“Stupid?” Vil frowned, and his fuzzy gaze focused into something sharp. “Your reactions don’t normally imply that those ‘lines’ leave much to be desired.”

You could feel your ears going hot as coals. “Yeah. Well. In the moment is a lot different from—we’re not talking about this right now!” you squawked. “Your assistant is going to kill me if she finds out I let anyone hear you like this.”

Vil snorted and pulled you the rest of the way into the alcove. “She would never. And besides, it’s my prerogative to say whatever I wish,” he finished on something that was nearly a pout. His lips pressed into a firm line, determined. “Should I try again then? If you thought that one was so stupid.”

“Vil—” you hissed.

“Hmm,” he mused, deliberate. And then, “How about this one, then. All of the accolades in the world couldn’t compare to the sound of my name, cried from your lips.”

You squeaked and ducked your head against his shoulder, fingers digging into the too-expensive fabric of his suit.

“No?” he cooed, a bit of that familiar, mocking, edge curling over the word. And you were left to wonder if he was really that drunk after all. “Let me try another. As much as I enjoy those cries, I think I like the whispers even more—every part of you of that whispers temptation,” he recited, far, far too warm, “as if the Gods made you just to ruin me.”

“Would you please just—” you squawked, mortified and melting from head to toe. You were about to remind him again, plead nearly, that they were still very much in public. But then a thought shot off in your head like a lightbulb clicking to life. “You like this,” you hissed at him, accusatory.

“Like what?” he droned, crowding you against the wall. It was dark in the little corner, quiet, but not nearly enough to blot out the low hum of conversations and clinking of glassware just a couple dozen feet away.

Vil dug his fingers into the fabric over your hips.

“It does have its appeal, doesn’t it?” he hummed against your neck and you could feel your blood buzzing beneath his curling lips. “No one to see you, certainly. But everyone will surely know,” he drawled. “That’s the world of show business, I’m afraid. All subtle implications, people whispering about us under their breath.” His hands twisted, bunching up the edges of the crinkling satin. “I’m sure even Neige will hear, eventually.”

“Is that it?” you hissed, biting back a horribly, high pitched little squeak. “You’re still mad at what that reporter said?”

“Of course not,” Vil said, with all the cadence of a well-seasoned liar. “The gossip mongering of one, moronic pest is hardly a problem.” He leaned closer, pushing a leg forward to slot between your. “But I have eyes, darling. And I can see that little rat’s lingering far too long where they shouldn’t.”

You reached up to slap a hand over your mouth and bite into your palm to quiet whatever embarrassing nonsense you would have tried to reply with. Or, well, if you’d managed to reply at all.

“I know you’re anxious to get home, darling,” he droned against your collarbone. You could smell the fizzy remnants of champagne all in your nose. “But this is my party, after all. We’ll have to wait to call for a car for at least another hour,” he apologized, not sounding particularly sorry at all. “That said,” he continued, grinding harder, “if you don’t stop looking at my lips like that without doing anything about it, I might just have to take you right here against the wall.”

A pause, as he canted his head. A soft mess of pale bangs falling over his lidded eyes.

“And there is a very lovely private changing room with a lock just down the hall.”

“…okay,” you squeaked, and Vil grinned—pulling back to wrap an arm around your waist and lead you along. Gait steady and composed as always, and just the barest hint of the wine-warmed-boldness curling over his lips.

#4k Event #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #Vil x Reader #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #My Writing #Writing Prompts #Vil Schoenheit

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waywardcrow · 3 months

Text

All eyes on us.

Summary: This wedding needs to happen, it's the only way you can protect the ones you love, the only problem is that you're in love with your husband-to-be and he would never love you back.

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Stark!reader.

TW: Really not so many, talks of murder but very lightly, mentions of mysogyny, implications of mafia kind of stuff, death of parents, mention of future smut, curvy!reader, no mention of y/n and reader's nickname is Bells (context coming soon), kind of enemies to lovers but not really enemies, arranged marriage, this will be a +18 story so minors dni.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, please tell me if I make grammar mistakes.

Part of the Yours to lose series.

Pictures from pinterest and graphic and dividers by the amazing @ firefly-graphics so all credits to the creators.

Everyone was waiting for her but she kept looking at herself in the mirror.

The wedding dress was beautiful, Pepper told her it was what Maria Stark –her mother- wore in her own wedding day and she loved it, the silk was too soft, hugging her curves with an ethereal touch and it had a subtle scent that she assumed belonged to the mother she couldn't remember.

Tony swore their mother loved her, their father too, the young bride couldn’t help but doubt it, they would not love her if they could see her now about to get married to a man who didn’t love her back, a man who humiliated her once for his pride, someone who probably only wanted what this arrangement could give him back.

How would she survive this marriage when it was impossible to leave the room and get to the Cathedral?

A knock in the door pulled her out of her mind, finding Natasha smiling at her in the reflection of the mirror.

“Are you ready, dear?” her friend knew the real answer but still gave her the chance to speak.

“I was about to go” she lied and the redhead gave her a knowing look “everyone it’s waiting, isn’t it?”

“You’re the bride, honey, they can wait” Natasha walked to her, looking like a goddess in her silver dress and put her arms around the bride’s body “you can say no, we can fight Russo’s father, hell, Billy would love having one more excuse to kill him.”

She was sure Billy would do it, not only for her but for his sister, for Madani and for himself but it wasn’t time yet, the alliances needed to be settled, Stark and Barnes had to fight alongside to kill Pierce and Carlo Russo. She made all that mess before getting her family back and nobody would take them from her, never again.

“It has to be done, Nat” she put the veil in her head and took the beautiful bouquet Becca left for her earlier “let’s go.”

Her friend must have seen something in her eyes that made her nod.

“Alright, Bells. Let’s do this” her nickname, the one Yelena gave her when they met years ago, made her smile, who could ever thought that knocking someone out with Christmas bells will change her life?

Natasha guided her trough the corridors to the waiting room where Tony was talking in a hushed tone with Pepper, her sister-in-law radiant with her baby bump, reminding her why this alliance needed to happen.

“I’d be waiting outside, dear” Nat kissed her cheek and went to take her place with the other bridesmaids.

Tony was staring at her, pale like a ghost, whispering his sister's name. It wasn’t the first time in the last months Bells was told how much alike she was with his mother, their mother but this time Tony didn’t say anything, just looked at her eyes to find determination that matched his concern.

“Everything it’s beautiful, Peps, thank you” the bride said and the ginger smiled with a hint of sadness barely visible.

“It’s the least I could do for you, topolina. You deserve beautiful things” she never had a mother, not that she could remember, but with Pepper there she could feel like she did.

Pepper gave her husband a gentle squeeze in the arm and went to join the rest of the guest.

“I have Frank ready to go, say the word and we leave” his first words almost made her chuckle, he spent the last fifteen days planning ways to get her out of this but Bells always refused, a small and stupid part of her happy because she would marry the man she loved.

“I want to do this, Tony, for all of us” that part it was true, this marriage was the only way she could protect him and Pepper and the baby, Billy and Dinah, Frank and Maria and the kids, the family she dreamed about since she was a kid and that she finally had. It also would save her from Carlo Russo’s greedy hands.

Bells knew one or two things about the mob, mostly from movies and for that she was sure the respect from his brother to her choices were more part of his good soul, she heard some stories from Maria that made her want to kill Carlo Russo even more.

True to the man she met not too long ago Tony didn’t fight her, instead he straightened his bow tie and extended an arm out for her to take it.

“Then allow me to walk you down the aisle, signorina, it will be my honour” the charm went back to his eyes and Bells could breathe, if she could count on them, she could do anything.

The music started playing when the wedding planner gave the signal and every one of her friends smiled at her or blew kisses at her before marching down the aisle. From where she was she could see Maria walk with confidence, not sparing a glance to her father who unfortunately was sited next to her brother Billy and Dinah.

Natasha was the last one, looking at her with reassurance one last time before following the others, then it was their turn.

“I love you, topolina”

“Love you too, Tony”

The crowd of guest was an unfocused picture, she only had eyes for the man waiting for her at the altar, wearing a black tux with a new haircut, his long chestnut locks were gone, sending a silly wave of sorrow through her veins.

She loved his hair, in an embarrassing impulse she remembered pulling his long hair to get him to kiss her again when-

Bells stopped herself.

It was dangerous to think about those times, they were gone the minute he saw her as one of his properties and decided to punish her for something she never did.

Bucky’s eyes never left her the whole way to him, drinking her like he was dying of thirst. Steve must have noticed too because he gave him a subtle bump to get him to blink and stop looking like he would commit sacrilege in the middle of the church.

The beautiful glass windows projected a million colors around her when Tony lifted the veil and with a barely visible hesitance put her hand in Bucky’s.

“I’m confident you will protect her with your life, Barnes” was all he said, dead serious when Bucky gave him a solemn nod and her brother kissed her forehead.

With her eyes watching her step, Bells avoided looking at him until it was impossible to keep going.

A soft smile, one she thought she lost forever, resurfaced when their eyes locked and the bride could read what he was thinking.

She was his, always was and always would be and he would never let her go.

I'd do bad things with you >>>

Hiya! I'm super happy to post this story even if I don't know what I'm doing, to be honest I'm not fluent in italian, so here's the translation of the pet names I used:

-topolina: Little mouse.

-signorina: Miss.

If I made a mistake with that, feel free to correct me and tell me what you think! What do you think it will happen?

Love, Lily.

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #mob!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst

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whorechives · 4 months

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satoru has an onlyfans?? well, he is pretty, why not capitalize on it?? „ ♡ “ he's always been a bit of an attention whore. — satoru gojo x dom!reader.

cw ,, [i don't know how OF works cuz i've never used it, so this may not be entirely accurate to the site.] edging. decided to take a break mid post. part two coming in the future. this is so bad ugh

“it'll start soon, so face the camera, satoru.” you purr, gently turning his face to the webcam atop his main monitor. bringing that hand down with the free one, you spread gojo's thighs, exposing his already half-hard cock covered only a pair of lacy underwear.

scrolling through the posts, you felt a mix of emotions stirring within you—anger, jealousy, betrayal—but every time one of satoru's provocative (damn near nude) pictures, or videos of him touching/using toys on himself, you couldn't help admiring your husband's beauty.

you knew gojo was photogenic, but damn.

it was hard to stay mad at him. it's his body. satoru is very pretty as well, why not capitalize on it? that would explain why his onlyfans was so expensive. one hundred dollars a month? and people actually pay for it? pretty privilege at it's finest. or maybe the subscribers are just down deplorable. you couldn't blame them, honestly. this filled you with a sense of pride, knowing that you were above them—having satoru all to yoursel–

wait.

thinking back on it, in nary a single post did satoru mention that he was in a relationship—let alone married. you tapped your fingers on the countertop in veiled anger. that anger almost came unveiled as gojo sauntered into the kitchen without a care in the world (as usual). despite your feelings being well hidden, he noticed right away, not that it was surprising to you.

“i don't know what you're upset about, or if it has anything to do with me, but can i make it up to you?”

the corner of your mouth twitched at your husband's words—threatening a smirk, but you somehow forced it into a soft smile. “i'd appreciate that.”

satoru squirmed a bit on your lap. this sudden possessiveness and pettiness you seemed to have gained was a bit worrying, but the anticipation of what you might do aroused him more than anything.

the second monitor's screen lit up from standby mode, indicating that the stream had started. within seconds, the chat was flooded with comments, most of them asking about satoru's ‘guest’. “you gonna answer them, ‘toru?” you ask, your fingers playing at the man's inner thigh, drawing a quiet whimper from him. you chuckled softly at this. “did you all know? this little attention whore is married. not for a long time, but still married nonetheless.”

“honey, please..” gojo whispered almost inaudibly.

“don't worry, he'll continue being a camslut for you all.” you continue, taking hold of satoru's now fully erect cock through his lingerie. it twitched lightly in your hand, from the touch or your harsh words, you honestly didn't know. “but for today, i'm going do what you all could never.”

notathrowaway379 : bro stfu fraud ass

黄花闺女 : am i being cucked rn? kinda liking this

cxltlead3r [top fan ★] tipped $50! : edge him pls <3

seeing the last comment onscreen, you smirked slightly. for some reason, you felt like you had an idea of who the tipper was. “oh, i was just thinking about that. great minds really do think alike, huh? thanks for the donation, by the way.” you slowly pumped satoru's dick, holding him in place with your other arm. you held back a laugh as he pathetically tried bucking his hips up into your hand, only for it to be in vain.

gojo whined softly in defeat—the poor man couldn't help moving his hips. he couldn't get enough of your touch and being watched by god knows how many people somehow made him feel more sensitive under your treatment. “wai.. the underw—”

“i want you to make a mess of these pretty panties for me. not for your fans. for me.” you growl, working gojo's cock faster. his back arched slightly against you as he let out a surprised gasp at the sudden increase in pace. satoru probably didn't realize it, but he was leaking through the panties already. it didn't really matter if they got ruined, anyway—you could always buy him a new set. as you continued, your voice took on a gentler tone. “but not until i say so, doll. be a good boy and hold out for me, okay?” you pressed a kiss to the side of his head. again, satoru cried out quietly as he struggled under your hold.

user474367 : he'd look better in my lap fr

ur_mum69 : ngl im more jealous of gojo here

🎐 ! : @eccedentesiast-sapphic , @gaynesspersonified , @ksoj , @sinfuldxlight , @theirbf , @supernova07 , @5starr-staciii , @ambro-season , @sensivs , @demovamp ✦

interested in a certain whore? sign here to be notified of new releases!

#✦. addition from king.#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #sub jjk #dom!reader #top!reader #sub character #top male reader #dom male reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut

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dearestaussiechannie · 11 months

Text

☆♡ We're both stressed ♡☆ — Bang Chan

word count: 3.1k

paring: Chan x afab!reader

genre: angst/fluff

warnings: afab!reader, established relationship, crying, stress, mentions of shouting, pet names (sweetheart, sweetie, love), bestfriend!Jisung, stressed!Chan, comfort, if I left anything out lmk, kinda proofread? (sorry!)

It's been a rough couple of months with the comeback and all the stress that comes with it. Wanting to spend more time with Chan but being unable to due to the ungodly amount of hours he's been spending in the studio with Jisung and Changbin. The little amount of time you got to see him while they were preparing for the comeback has now doubled.

That's why right now you're laying on that iconic couch that sits in the studio, mindlessly scrolling through the many socials that you have on your phone. Luckily it's just the two of you inside since Changbin and Jisung had said that they wanted to freshen up with showers or food, leaving the two of you to just be in the others presence, something that the two of you hadn't gotten in weeks.

While you lay there just scrolling on your phone, you see the multiple fan accounts that you follow talking about their comeback announcements. You giggle at the ones about the other members, specifically Jisungs, sending them to him mimicking the comments when you text him. “He’S sO hAwT!?!?” After doing this a couple of times, you keep scrolling and you see the ones about your one and only Chan.

You try your best to hold back your laughs after seeing all the comments about how hot he looks in his new photos, some even cause the laugh to slip only for you to look at Chan to make sure you haven’t disturbed his work in any way. All you can feel is pride that you managed to be the one that he has chosen to be with… that is until you scroll a little further.

Your heart sinks when you find all the ones talking about how his future someone has such large shoes to fill. One stood out the most to you, even though in your best judgement, it shouldn't have. “I bet if he gets someone, she'll be too insecure and cause him way more stress than he needs or wants. Must be sad yk?”

Does Chan know that they say these things about him and his future someone? He must with how much he takes what they say into consideration. But why hasn't he said anything to you about it? Is that maybe what he thinks as well? As thoughts begin to wreck your already oversensitive brain, you stare into the back of his head.

Almost like instinct, you hear a loud huff and the sound of his headphones crashing onto his desk. “You know, I can feel you staring holes into the back of my head Y/N.” He says, running his hand through his dark brown hair, turning in his chair to look at you. You look down when you hear him speak, causing him to sigh softly before rolling the chair closer to you. “Where did the guys go? Thought they were going to the bathroom or something.” “Well, that's kinda what they said.. Han went to get himself something to eat and Bin wanted a shower so god knows what he's doing now since that was 45 minutes ago.”

He lets out a grumble before going back to what he was doing on his laptop, starting to bounce his leg. “Is there something that you need help with?” you ask him before slowly walking over to him causing him to jump and suddenly shut his laptop, before looking up at you with shocked eyes. The sudden motion shocks you to say the least but you just show a sad smile before walking back over to the couch for a few minutes only to leave not soon after to give him the privacy he suddenly seemed like he needed.

About a week has passed since then and you're currently sitting in the dorms with almost everyone for a movie night. The sight still plastered in your brain as if it happened 20 minutes ago, him shutting his laptop and giving you that look. Sighing shakily, you nestle deeper into your spot on the couch between Jisung and Changbin, Chan choosing not to attend the movie saying “he still has too much to work on” or you’d be cuddled up to him like you usually did during these events.

It seems that the two beside you notice your behaviour, looking between each other before Jisung taps your shoulder. “Hey, is everything alright? You seem off.” he asks you, only causing your mind to race worse. You look at him with a small smile before slowly nodding. If he's noticed how you’re acting that means so has everyone else making you do a quick glance over the whole room, seeing everyones eyes locked on the movie that was playing on the screen. “I’m fine Sungie, don't worry that pretty brain of yours and enjoy the movie.” you whisper back to him before silently excusing yourself from the room.

You find yourself in front of his bedroom door, just staring at it. It makes your heart race with your mind as you think about what's on the other side of this door. Your beloved slaving away over his laptop, eyes most likely bloodshot and dry from the hours he spends staring at it. A small flat spot probably pressed into his hair from his headphones, back with an arch that will make him complain that he needs to fix his posture tomorrow and probably the worlds largest bundle of stress.

Before you could stop yourself, you knock. You can hear the sound of his chair moving around before he suddenly swings the door open. He quickly looks you up and down, sighing before his lip twitches up on the left side. “Hello love, why aren't you watching the movie with the others?” He asks you, leaning against the door frame.

Without realising it, you'd been holding your breath. Suddenly you shakily exhale while looking up at his face, eyes scanning his features as if you hadn't seen him in months even though its only been a few hours. It really did feel like it's been that long though. “Oh.. I just wanted to come check on you.. Movie was boring and Jisung kept laughing so loud in my ears.” you lied, that's not really why you were here.

He stepped to the side, allowing you to enter the room before walking over to his chair and closing his laptop again. There it was again, the stinging pain in your chest. Normally if he ever shut his laptop like this, it meant you had his full attention but the past couple of times, it had felt like he doesn't trust you. It hurts.

“Well as you can see I'm fine but you can stay in here if you want to.” he says before turning his back to you, blocking your view of whatever is on his screen and placing his headphones back on. Fine? Is that what you'd call this sight? Because you don't think so. Which causes your next wrong moves. You start insisting that he take a break, use some eye drops, eat or drink something, stand up and stretch, the basic things he should do after sitting at a screen for hours.

The two of you begin to argue about it causing you to raise your voice a little in worry, your own anxiety flowing into the words without you realizing and neither does he. “If you're just going to lecture me and distract me from my work, you're more than welcome to leave.” he says a bit harshly, venom on his tongue. He doesn't even look at you before his fingers start to swim against his keys again, losing all interest in the fact that you, his girlfriend, is standing right there.

Your eyes sting as you walk out, shutting the door a bit harshly, grabbing the others in the living rooms attention. You fly through the room with your head down, not wanting anyone to see your tears, slipping on your shoes and out the front door after quickly grabbing your keys and coat. The others simply look at each other then back in the direction of Chans room.

It's now been two weeks since movie night and your fight with Chan and you aren't answering any texts you get from the members, fearing that it'll only make this pain worse. All you can think about is his voice the way he spoke to you that night. The way hes been acting towards you for whats just barely short of a month. Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the sound of your phone going off the rails. You look down not planning to answer but when the name pops up, your gaze softens. “Sungie Sweetie” is displayed with a silly photo of the boy. You didn’t want to answer but if anyone was as worked up about everything that suddenly happened, it'd be Jisung.

You sniffle as you watch it go to voicemail. The notification “10 missed calls from Sungie Sweetie” displays on the screen for the fifth time today alone. Before you can swipe away the notification, he's calling again. You rub your eyes before you decide to answer. Before you can even get out a hello, you hear his voice crack. “Oh my god you answered! Y/N its Jisung! Do you know how long I've been trying to get you to answer the phone? NO daily memes, no stupid comment mimics in my dms, NOTHING! Where are you? Are you-”

“Ji, you're rambling again.” you say with a small smile even though he can't see it. You can hear his shaky breath, before he begins to whisper. “You haven't answered anyone in days, as your best friend, that's not okay.” he says and you have to fight a giggle. “I’m okay Ji, I just.. Needed some time to myself.” you lie to him which causes guilt to fill your chest. You don't realise but he has the same feeling since he's not telling you the whole truth either.

You see, without your knowledge, you're currently on speaker where not only can Jisung hear you, so can Changbin who is biting his nails. Both of them have been worried sick about you after everyone had assumed you and Chan fought. That thought had been sealed when Chan came out of his room in a rough state, slamming doors and everything else that he opened, glares to everywhere in the dorms as if he's looking for something to soften his gaze on, on you.

Jisung clears his throat before he speaks, “So, when are you coming back over? I’ve got a couple of new games, Bin needs his hype man back, lix needs his taste tester, Minho needs someone to eat the extra food he makes, Seungmin complains that you're not here for him to bully, I.n says that you're the only person in this house that makes him genuinely laugh and Hyunjin has said, and I'm not even playing, ten times that he needs his muse back so he can continue his art.”

He rambled about everything without even thinking about it, the room now filled by everyone he’d mentioned. He looked around at everyone with a finger over his lips, signalling them to be quiet but as if they'd even speak, no one knows what to say. “Ji?..” they all hear that shake in your voice causing them all to look around at each other then quickly to him. “Yes love?” he says with no hesitation.

“You didn't… you didn't say Chan..” you say as the tears have begun to fall down your face like a waterfall of hot water. They could all hear you crying, no one knew what to do. You'd always hid your emotions. As their leaders girlfriend, you were just as head strong as he was, never showing what you actually felt unless behind closed doors. “Y/n… Chans been locked in either his room or the studio since you left. Changbin and I haven't been able to set foot in there without getting yelled at..”

The thought of Chan yelling at the people who care most for him saddens you more but it also really pisses you off. Before you even realise what you're doing, you've got shoes on and you're out your front door. The call with Jisung (and everyone else) does not end, it just becomes silent.

About 10 minutes go by and they all think that you've muted yourself for a cry but your voice suddenly rips through the room. “Sungie?” the fearful looks all shift to him as they hear the name, making Minho and I.n fight for their lives not to laugh. He looks at the floor and smiles “yes Y/Nie?” he replies quickly flipping the two now red in the face off.

“Come unlock the door, yeah?”

You're in the kitchen of the dorms as everyone surrounds you whispering so many questions to you but all you can do is look at Jisung and say “where is he?” before he slowly points to the hallway. You scuff as you wipe your nose and shake off your coat, hearing it hit the floor only for someone to pick it up and put it by the door.

Once in the hall, you make it to a door but you don’t knock or announce that you're walking inside, you just do it. “How dare you?” is all you can say before big brown eyes are looking at you. There's emotion in them and you can see the way that they shift from anger to surprise to guilt. He stares at you before slowly standing up, opening his mouth. “Don't you dare speak. I've got things to say, Christopher Bahng.”

“First of all, if your girlfriend leaves your dorm crying because of what you said to her, a decent boyfriend would TRY to follow her out to make sure shes okay. Second, don't EVER let me hear that you've YELLED at them simply because you're in a bad mood because of something you caused. Third, tell me why it's Ji that had to call me 50 times a day for TWO WEEKS to get me to come back. Do you know how much I've longed to see your name pop up on my phone Christopher?”

By now you're crying without even noticing, your voice just barely above a shout until you realise Chan is staring at the floor. This only causes you to shake with emotion, “look at me!” you say, voice now a desperate shout, whole body shaking, eyes wide once his finally meet yours. You see the emotions switching over and over, the bright red where his eyes should be white, the bags and puffiness and you finally realise the way his whole body is shaking.

“Chan, I..” you start but he quickly cuts you off, his arms engulfing you into him as he pulls you both down to your knees on his bedroom floor, sobs filling the room. His whole body is shaking against you in what feels like frozen time, your hands instinctively finding his hair and rubbing his back as he cries and you do the same. The stress had finally broken the two of you only for you to break in front of the other.

“Y/N.. I'm so so so sorry. Jisung told me everything when you left two weeks ago but I was so hyper focused on work that I neglected your feelings and noticing how you felt. I have no idea what was going through me or how it affected you but I know that I hurt you the other night when you were simply trying to help. That's why you're my light.” He says as he sobs into your neck, arms tightening around you, afraid you might push him away.

You turn your head towards the door to see the others all in the doorway after hearing you yell at their leader, the strongest guy they know now crying on the floor clinging to his girlfriend for what looked like dear life. When they see you looking at them, they quickly scurry away not wanting to ruin the moment that they all knew you both needed. “Channie.. sweetheart, look at me..” you say to him softly.

The pained look on his face makes your heart shatter as you use your sleeves to gently wipe away the tears that keep falling from his beautiful eyes. No matter how angry you are at him, seeing him like this still causes your heart to shatter into a hundred pieces. You push the wisps of hair out of his face and you let him cry as long as he needs to, feeling him relax after some time taking in deeper breaths.

“Y/n, please let's work through this. I messed up I know but I want to work on it, and if you say no then well I-” hes cut off quickly by your lips pressing into his, both of you letting out a shaky breath as you smile against his lips. “You big idiot.. I love you so much and I know that stress got the both of us, you don't need to apologise to me okay? Because everything that I did was no better.. Now I think we both need to take some time and just relax okay? Nothing but the two of us..”

He nods his head feverishly quick, eyes struggling to stay open, letting out a small laugh when he hears you speak. “You look like your body might crash the second I let you go.” “Can't sleep without you by my side.. Been getting maybe an hour or two of sleep a day.” is all that he can reply with before his eyes are closing lulling him to go to sleep right now.

After some convincing, he's taken a shower and you've changed his sheets, cleaned up all the trash in his room, organised his desk getting him a fresh warm towel and a clean set of clothes, you're both now curled in his bed. There's a movie playing on the tv but neither of you had paid any attention to it, too focused on the weight of being in each others arms.

You're playing with his hair while his head is laying on your chest, eyes closed as he's starting to finally feel his whole body relax, the stress you were both feeling only an hour ago now completely gone. There's a small hum that escapes him causing you to look down at him, met by a sleepy smile.

“I love you, Y/n, so much.”

“I love you too Channie, so much more.”

Taglist: (to be added, comment or message me♡)

#dearestaussiechannie writes♡#bang chan x you #bang chan x female reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x reader #chan x you #chan x y/n #chan x reader #skz x female reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #skz x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x female reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #bang chan angst #bang chan imagines #bang chan fluff

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bloatedandalone04 · 11 months

Text

Open Invitation

➪the one where hayden’s day off with you gets interrupted.

Warnings: smut, fluff, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, established relationship, interrupted smut, sexting, teasing, swearing (omg), part 2 is where the fun begins...

Word Count: 4k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The fact that Hayden was given the day off today was a miracle. He had been in and out of the house so often that he was beginning to feel overworked, but he would never say that out loud.

He loves his job and loves what he gets to do, so he would never voice out the few downsides he felt came with it.

The biggest downside was his limited time he had with you before he had to be on set. How limited? Some days it was non-existent as he was usually out of the house before you even woke up. Other days it was a mere few minutes before he was running the risk of being late.

It also didn’t help that he was always exhausted whenever he returned home, so he couldn’t stay up late and spend the rest of the night with you like he wanted.

This project was a bit different than the others, though. Instead of needing to leave you for months on end, the film was being made on a set that was half an hour from where you two lived, so he got to wake up and go to sleep next to you every night. It was a change he quickly found himself growing accustomed to, although he knew that he’d have to actually leave you again in the future once this movie was done.

For now, he was content with coming back home to you after a long day’s worth of filming.

Today he had no scenes to film and was given the day off, something he had told you about beforehand so you weren’t waking up early to see him off like you always tried to do. It was nearing ten in the morning when he woke up, the extra four hours of sleep he got had left him feeling more rested than he had in a while.

Looking to his left, Hayden squinted at the small stream of sunlight that crept through the gap in the black-out curtains and left a line of light that stretched across the room. He felt you shift beside him and he turned to look at you, a small smile gracing his lips when he realized that you were holding his right hand in both of yours, still lost in sleep.

His left hand, adorning the silver band you put on him a few months prior on what could only be described as the best day of his life, reaches over and tucks your hair behind your ear. Your eyes moved behind your eyelids and he briefly wondered what you were dreaming about before the urge to take you into his arms became too much to resist.

It had been weeks since he was able to just hold you in the comfort of your own bed without having to rush afterwards. He missed you, despite still seeing you everyday. Maybe he was selfish, but he strongly believed that no time would ever be long enough when it came to you.

He inched closer to you, keeping his hand locked in yours as he moved his head down to place a kiss to your collarbone. In his defense, your smooth skin was just asking for it, the way his oversized shirt hung loosely off your shoulders, exposing a fair amount of your skin to him. He places another kiss to your shoulder, and another to the base of your neck.

You moved slightly, your sleeping self tilting your head back and holding onto his hand tighter. He couldn’t help the prideful smirk that formed on his lip at how responsive you always are for him, even while you’re sleeping.

Without waking you up, Hayden somehow managed to move so he was hovering over you, the sheets loosely wrapped around his waist and his hand still clasped in yours. He leans down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, his lips turning upwards when he sees your eyes open to meet his. “Good morning,” he said against your skin, allowing you to pull your hand from his so you could caress the side of his face.

Humming quietly, a lazy smile formed on your lips. “It is now,”

Hayden hummed back, a smirk forming on his lips as his mouth moved further down your body. “Just good?” He asks, pressing a kiss to the skin of your stomach, his shirt you stole having lifted and exposed your lower abdomen to him. “I can think of a way to make it better.”

His words have your chest tightening in excitement. “Oh, yeah?” You ask, biting down on your lower lip to stop the growing grin as sleep slowly begins leaving your body. “How?”

A kiss was placed on your hip, then another on the opposite one, before his teeth were tugging on the thin lace that covered your core. “By having you come around my tongue within minutes after waking up,”

Your face heats up at his words, a deep blush fanning across your cheeks as he tugs the fabric down your legs. “Hm, looks like someone woke up wanting me,” you tease, instinctively reaching down to grab his left hand as you felt his breath against your heat.

“I always wake up wanting you,” he replied before his tongue poked out and licked a stripe up your folds, eliciting a sharp inhale from you. Your free hand immediately reached for his hair, the strands a freshly dyed dark brown for his role.

Hayden wasn’t one to turn away from physical changes to his appearance for his roles, whether that be in the form of a new hair color, weight loss or gain, or a fair amount of facial hair that needed to be grown. You remembered the time when he had to gain more than a couple of pounds in muscle for his role as Anakin for Revenge of the Sith, and you vividly remember how infatuated you had become with his body and his determination to reach his goal.

His dedication to his job was a massive turn on, so you were more than happy to indulge in his latest appearance change, even if it wasn’t a drastic one.

Hayden with dark hair was just…..damn near edible, for a lack of better words.

His words go right through you and you can’t help but agree with him, “I wake up wanting you, too,” you barely get out, your voice sounding more breathy than normal.

He grinned against you, his eyes fixated on yours as he focused his attention on the small bundle of nerves just above where he licked a stripe. You tear your eyes away from his as you turn your head, the bright red numbers of the clock on his nightstand staring back at you.

10:03 AM.

You bite your lip in a grin, your hand tightening its hold on his as you take in the fact that you’d have him all to yourself for the whole day. It was rare for him to get days off in the middle of filming a movie, so you were taking what you could get with open arms.

And, as per his request, open legs.

Your eyes meet his once again as you sink further into the pillow, and the look he gave you while his tongue circled your clit had a loud moan leaving your lip. He looked at you with hooded eyes, his piercing blue irises staring into yours as his arm wraps under your thigh and his hand presses against your hip.

“Fuck,” you nearly laugh in disbelief at just how lucky you had gotten. The hottest guy you had ever seen in your life was your husband, and was currently waking you up in the best way possible.

Hayden smirks at your reaction, his tongue gently but firmly massaging your clit. You softly tug on his hair, the deep groan he lets out sending a searing jolt up your body. Your hips try to lift but are unable to due to his tight hold on you, his hand pinning you back down. “Do you like it when I do that?” He asks, his voice deep and eyes dark with lust.

You nod, a hum of confirmation leaving your lips.

“Mhm,” he hummed back, creating another wave of vibration through you.

“Fuck,” you press your brows together at the feeling, refraining from bucking your hips upwards as you knew he would just hold you down. “Do that again.”

Hayden’s tongue swirled around your nerves before his open mouth closed around them, sucking your clit as he moaned around it.

Your eyes roll back as your legs begin to shake, the stimulation becoming too much to handle a mere five minutes after waking up. Still, you allowed him to continue.

A sharp breath leaves you when his teeth graze over the nerve, your stomach twisting in an all too familiar feeling. Your back arches then immediately falls back down onto the bed when his phone went off from its place on his nightstand.

Your high quickly fades away as his mouth leaves your core and he lifts himself up, the sheets falling from his form as he reaches over to grab the still ringing phone.

“Are you serious?” You ask as you try to regulate your breathing.

“Sorry,” he says as he kneels next to you. “I meant to turn this off last night.”

Hayden was about to ignore the call when he saw the name of the assistant director. His brows furrowed as he held his finger up, half to silence your annoyed whine and half to let you know that he had full intention on picking up where he left off once he was done with the call.

He was met with the assistant’s pitiful voice when he answered the call on the fourth ring. “Hey, I’m really sorry, Mr Christensen,” he started and Hayden felt his heart fall, already knowing exactly what this call was about. “But we actually need you on set today. I apologize for the late notice, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

He could’ve rolled his eyes at the irony of those words. ‘Actually, yeah, you are’ he wanted to say but held back, instead settling on giving you a forced smile as you took his free hand in yours. “No, not at all,” he says and watches as you turn his wedding band around his finger a few times, boredom quickly falling over you. “What time am I expected to be there for?”

He hated that he was asking that, and he hated the way your eyes widened slightly as you tried to figure out what they were talking about. Hayden could only hope that he had at least a few more hours with you before he was called off to set.

“Yeah, um,” Charlie, the assistant, trailed off and a rummaging sound was heard in the background. “We were hoping you were able to come in, say….right now?”

Hayden’s eyes left you as his head fell back in a silent groan. He stared up at the ceiling in dread, feeling the bed dip as you pushed yourself up to copy his kneeling stance. “Right,” he started, feeling your hands tug on his arm in an attempt to get him to look at you. It worked as his guilty eyes met your confused expression. “Uh, yeah, that’s….fine. I’ll be there soon.”

Your face falls at his words and he barely hears the relieved cheer from Charlie before he’s hanging up and frustratingly tossing his phone onto the bed. You watch as it hits the soft comforter before you look back up at him. “What was that?” You ask but fear you know damn well what it was. “Do not tell me you just got called onto set.”

The conflicted look he gave you was all the confirmation you needed.

“Oh, my- and you said yes?” Any and all rational and reasonable thoughts were out the window at this point.

He gave you a look. “I kind of had to,”

You whine and fall back onto the pillows, your hands reaching for the sheets as you huff. “I cannot believe you woke me up, went down on me but didn’t let me finish, and now you’re leaving just when things were getting good,” you mutter before adding, “And doing all that on your off day? Unbelievable.”

You weren’t mad, not really. You understand how unpredictable his job can be, so you’re usually prepared for things like him getting called in on his days off, or him having to cancel plans.

You just wish the timing wasn’t this bad.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he leans over to place a kiss to your head before quickly getting up. He throws on a t-shirt and dark jeans in a matter of seconds, completing the simple look with one of his many hats in an attempt to cover his messy hair - the result of your relentless tugging. “I’ll make it up to you.”

He grabs his phone from the bed and his keys from the nightstand before looking at your unmoving form still half under the covers.

He laughs at the grumpy look you wore. “I promise,” he says before heading towards the door. He pauses halfway under the frame, his hand on the doorknob. “I love you.”

You fight off a smile and cross your arms as he waits for you to say it back. “I love you, too,” you give in and watch as a grin takes over his face before he’s closing the door behind him.

It was probably in Hayden’s best interest to have not woken you up this morning as it was nearing twelve in the afternoon and you had yet to be able to fall back asleep.

You were far too turned on to ignore the constant throbbing in your core, no matter how many times you tossed and turned. The ache just didn’t go away, and your husband was the one to blame.

You longed to feel the soothing muscle of his tongue on your most private part again, itched to have his hands pinning down your hips and moans pulsating through your core.

He was a tease, you came to that conclusion pretty quickly when you realized that there was no way you’d be able to go back to sleep. Not with the emptiness between your legs and the build up of your high still lingering in your body.

It only made sense that if he got to get you all riled up then leave, you could also do the same to him. Sort of.

You wouldn’t be able to leave him as he was on a closed off set, and if you were being honest, you didn’t feel like using your set pass to go rile him up in person, anyway.

Throwing off the sheets, you lazily push yourself up and off the bed.

In the bathroom connected to your shared room, you prop yourself up on the marbled countertop, the hem of his shirt reaching just past the middle of your thighs. You grab your phone and snap a picture of yourself from your shoulders down, your chest, torso and thighs being the only things shown. Still, you knew the sight of your bare legs would get a reaction out of him, even if it was just a small one.

Still upset you left so suddenly this morning :( I miss you

You add the photo and send it to him, not entirely sure when he’d be able to get the chance to see it.

His response came quicker than you expected it to - a mere five minutes after you sent the photo.

Hayden <3: I’m sorry :( I miss you, too. I like that photo, wish I could see your pretty face, though.

A blush spreads across your cheeks as you read his text, a feeling of mischief rising inside you. You jump down from the counter and make your way back into the room, running the tip of your finger along the wooden surface of the dresser. Pulling open the top drawer, you hold back a smirk as you pick up the light pink lace you only wear on special occasions.

There was nothing special about today, but the plan currently brewing in your head was just too good to pass up.

Hayden carried a feeling of guilt within him during the entire drive to set, and even carried it during the filming of his scenes.

Part of him was mad at the crew as he was promised a day off, one he was given weeks in advance and one he had all planned out, and the other part of him was….well..horny.

Going down on you wasn’t just for your pleasure, but also for his. He loved doing it, loved the sounds you made with his head between your thighs, and loved how responsive you always are to him.

He wished he was with you right now. He had been counting down the days until he was able to stay in and spend a full day with you, who was always so understanding and someone he was beyond grateful for. Hayden was convinced there was no one else in the world better than you.

There was no telling when he’d be given another day off, with reshoots and edits and all that coming after he finishes filming. He just wants one day, one day to have you all to himself without worrying about his job, one day to do whatever he pleases.

The next few months will be brutal.

My Wife: I can show you something better than just my pretty face ;)

Hayden had very little time to prepare himself for the sight he was met with when he clicked on the photo.

Attached to your text was a picture of your chest, the length of your body on full display except for the parts he desperately wanted to see, which were covered by the pink lace set you had worn more than once. His favorite.

He couldn’t be more grateful that he was given a few minutes to himself before he was due for his next scene.

Bringing his phone closer to him and away from the multiple crew members that were in the same room as him, he hastily types out his reply before trying to keep himself calm.

Don’t do this to me.

Please.

He should’ve known you wouldn’t give up easily. And part of him didn’t want you to. An even bigger part of him wanted you to continue to send him pictures like the one you just sent now, this one being a close up of your chest with one of the straps of the bra falling from your shoulder.

My Wife: Do what?

My Wife: I’m just giving you some motivation to get home faster.

He was so screwed.

He wasn’t able to type out another reply before the screen switched to one that showed an incoming call from you. He answered almost immediately, turning away from the crew and refraining from running his hand through his recently styled hair. “Y/n,” he says rather than greeting you in the usual way and you only laugh quietly on the other end, making his heart skip a beat at the sound.

“Hi, honey,” you say cheerfully, twirling your hair around your index finger as you sat on the edge of the bed you had just made. “Did you like my pictures?”

“You need to stop,” he says, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.

He could picture the pout you wore as you ask, “Why? Don’t you like them?” Your voice gave away any act you were trying to put on as your words dripped with a teasing tone. “I took them just for you. Here, this one is better.”

The phone vibrated against his ear and he pulled it away just as another picture flashed on the screen, this one being of your lower half. The lace was pulled high up, revealing only an inch or two of your core and he was now beginning to feel desperate again, wanting so badly to be back at home with you. Heat washes over his body and he groans in both desperation and dread at what was bound to happen if you kept teasing him like this. “Baby, stop,”

Your laugh meets his ear once again as he brings his phone back up to plead with you. He was seconds away from being called back to set and there was no way he’d return when he felt as though all of his blood had rushed to his length. “If that’s what you want,” you trail off as you lay back against the bed, your free hand resting dangerously low on your stomach. “I guess I’ll just have to find something else to entertain myself with.”

“I’m sorry, angel,” he sighs and rubs his forehead as he meets the director’s eyes. He gestures for him to come back over and Hayden nods quickly and turns back around. “I’ll be home as soon as I can, I promise, I-”

He abruptly stops talking when he hears a sound he had heard from you too many times to count now. The hushed whisper you had let out when he was saying his goodbyes….it was borderline a moan. There was no way you’re…touching yourself, right?

He stays silent and waits a few seconds to see if you would make another noise, secretly wanting to hear you again.

When you remain silent he tries again. “I gotta go, baby, I’ll see you soon-”

Another quiet whimper leaves your lips and successfully shuts him up for the second time. “How soon?” You murmur and let out a low hum as your wandering hand travels further down your body. “You know I can get impatient sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” He forces out a laugh before dropping his voice to a lower tone. “Are you doing what I think you’re doing right now?”

He wasn’t sure why he was asking, or what he even wanted the answer to be. He’d no doubt become even more turned on, but he’d also feel a bit frustrated that it wasn’t him who was touching you.

“I might be,”

“Seriously?” He groaned then quickly moved away when one of the stage crew members gave him a funny yet concerned look. His voice dropped in a hushed whisper, “This isn’t fair.”

“I can’t help it,” you defend yourself weakly as the tip of your index finger finds the semi-sensitive outline of your clit through the pink lace. “You made me feel so good this morning, baby, then you just left. That was pretty unfair, too, Hayden.”

“I know,” he groaned out, glancing back at the director and giving a quick thumbs up to let him know that he was almost done. “I wish I was there with you right now….wish that I was inside you. I miss your taste so much.”

His words make your finger pause as they sink in, the filth masked behind his kind voice unfamiliar. Usually it was you who did most of the dirty talk, so to hear it come from him was rare yet it never failed to leave you breathless, hopelessly clenching around nothing.

“I’d do anything to be back at home with you, to hear those beautiful sounds you make for me,” he was returning the teasing completely now, your plan backfiring and now leaving you both sexually frustrated beyond belief. “To be buried so deep in you. I can’t stand to be away from you, pretty girl.”

A desperate whimper leaves your lips, unknowingly making Hayden’s jeans tighten a bit, and you sigh heavily.

You bring your hand back up and rest it over your stomach once again, deciding to hold off until you see him later on, no matter how badly you wanted to feel a sense of relief. “Then hurry up and film your scenes so you can get back home to me,”

Part 2

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen gif #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen smut #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin smut #anakin skywalker smut #clay beresford #clayton beresford #clay beresford x reader #clay beresford imagines

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notjustjavierpena · 2 months

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i love how playful javi and wife are in the bedroom sometimes. cracking jokes and being gross. they’re so comfortable with each other and it really shines in these moments.

I would love to see a drabble focusing on them absolutely loosing it laughing while being intimate.

Giggles (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: This was lovely to write! However, it was so hard (no pun intended) to come up with a joke on the spot. I have a whole list now for future use. Also - when does the word count get high enough for it to stop being a drabble?

Summary: You make a joke for the first time during sex.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, female masturbation, oral sex (m receicing), mouth-fucking, dirty talk, cumshot, giggles and love

Word count: 1.2k

Giggles

It has been four months now and it is the best sex of your life. It is not like you have a million different experiences to compare with being with Javier Peña but whenever he has you naked, you just know that it doesn’t feel like this with others and you doubt others have even felt the way you do with their own partner. The stupid man makes you come so hard that you lose sense of time and space, and you walk around in a cockdrunk haze that consists almost entirely of waiting for the next time you can see him.

One more thing. He makes you giggle. Tiny snickers come from your mouth even when he is inside of you, and his eyes gleam with boyish pride and joy whenever you accidentally snort from laughter during sex.

“What was that?” He always asks, pulling your hands from your face whenever embarrassment heats up your cheeks enough for you to want to hide behind something. Seeing the look of humiliation on your face when doing the perfect imitation of a pig during a time when you should be imitating the flawless femme fatale is apparently too funny for him not to mock lovingly. Sometimes, you think he might joke around on purpose for the sole benefit of hearing you laugh but you don’t dare hope that is the reason because that’ll mean this is love.

Like that time when you banged your dominant hand into your doorframe during a date night, hobbling around with a string of swears falling from your mouth, and then later couldn’t give him a handjob with your other one because the angle wasn’t right. He had looked at you with a shit-eating grin and asked if you weren’t ambi-dick-trous to which the laughter you gave made the pain subside completely.

However, despite all this, you still haven’t managed the courage to joke back at him during your most intimate moments. You suspect it is some kind of ridiculous attempt to maintain the illusion of being the sexy new girlfriend - God, that is what you are, isn’t it? His girlfriend - but at this point, you think the easiest way is just to break the rules you have made for yourself and dive headfirst into the waters of being funny in the bedroom too. Together.

You have been going down on him a lot lately, eager to please whether it is on your knees or lying down in the bed if it means being soaked in his taste and scent. That is why it seems like the perfect opportunity to earn a chuckle from him.

You are on your back on your bed, and have a hand on Javier’s lower stomach, nails scratching through the hairs right at the beginning of his happy trail, whilst the other one is between your legs to rub circles on your clit in a desperate fashion. Javier is fucking your mouth, the soft skin of his cock sliding past your lips over and over. At this point, you feel like an expert in knowing what to do with your mouth to make him twitch and moan. It is rough, dirty, and only painful in a way that has you groaning for your orgasm.

“I can hear you,” he says breathlessly, voice shaking from how sensitive he is due to his own climax climbing. He is making the bed rattle from his thrusts, “You gonna come with my dick in your mouth, baby?”

You whine to say yes, and then you’re off. The first crash of pleasure washes over you and your jaw goes even slacker as everything below your belly button starts to pulse with no other reason than to make you feel like you’re in heaven. Your eyes roll back, your toes curl and you gag wetly with every other moan you let out.

“Jesus Christ, you are gorgeous when you come,” you hear Javier moan above you, sounding like he is just about to blow. You look up through your damp lashes again, and sure enough, you see that Javier’s eyes are closed and his jaw is locked tightly as he uses you to get off.

You tap his torso with your palm and he pulls back a moment after, brows furrowed and just about to ask when you interrupt him in his thoughts of concern.

“Come on my face,” you order but your voice is hardly commanding as it is hoarse from being throat-fucked.

Javier growls, already wrapping his hand around his spit-slicked dick. He strokes himself fast, eager to paint your face, “Fuck yes, I will.”

“Yeah?” Your voice oozes with dopamine and sex too, “Come on my face, Javi, please.”

“Eres una chica sucía (You’re a dirty girl),” he pants and dares to look down at you.

“I know,” you smile innocently, propping yourself up on your elbows, and opening your mouth with your tongue slightly out.

Javier is done for. He comes with a groan of your name, and it sounds so sweet even if followed by filthy swear words. You take the first shot of come in your mouth but as Javier’s climax peaks and his sounds become whines, his aim falters and the next spurts hit your cheek, jaw, and even across your chin.

He sounds like someone who’s trying to desperately outrun something or someone. His breaths are fast and strained, and you hold onto his sides to keep him steady as he moves to pick a few wipes from a pack on the nightstand that’s being more and more frequently used.

That is when it happens. You hadn’t actually planned what to say, thinking it would come off as too neurotic to schedule a joke. For this reason, it also takes you by surprise.

“So,” you say casually as he sweetly rids your face of his spill, “Come here often?”

He looks down at you with surprise and stops cleaning your face. He doesn’t say anything at first and even though his silence probably only lasts for a second or two, you feel panic rise in your chest. This is what you got for trying to be the funny girlfr—

Javier bursts into laughter. It is loud and unrestrained, and so pleasant to your ears that a flash of making him crack up like that every day for the rest of your life pops up in your mind. How on earth have you waited so long to hear that sound? You watch in awe as he gets crinkles around his eyes, chest rising and falling in short bursts of the lightness laughter brings.

The laughter develops into giggles instead and he is finally able to wipe the rest of your face clean. You find everything about it so infectious that you cannot keep your own snickering at bay. You join in, and after he throws the crumpled wipes on the nightstand, he flops down on top of you to pull you close to his chest.

You feel the vibrations of his chest as he snickers. He doesn’t seem to be able to stop even if it wasn’t that funny - evidently high on post-orgasmic bliss - and you don’t want him to anyway. It is sweet happiness even as he pulls back for a second to look at you, only to start crying with laughter all over again.

You have nothing that you need to get out of bed for. You have all the time in the world. You giggle along with him and listen to his stuttering breaths and try to think of another joke.

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