#maybe time passes differently in that world | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

its44intheehouse · 4 hours

Text

pairing: lewis hamilton x Wolff!fem!reader

author’s note: GOD this might be awful but please keep in mind that it’s my first story :) WILL most probably go through major adjustments.

summary: in which her father, Toto Wolff, always told her to stay away from the young drivers. He never said anything about the older ones though…

warnings: 18+ smut/nsfw, masturbation(f), oral sex(f receiving), fingering, cursing, size kink, unprotected sex, squirting, creampie, age-gap, praise kink, bit of choking.

Being the daughter of a Formula 1 Team Principal never failed to be exciting.

Always VIP treatment, lots of traveling to beautiful countries, numerous job opportunities and getting to meet famous people. You were always grateful for your privileged life but never took advantage of it in a selfish way, although you enjoyed the things it had to offer from time to time. You always refused being treated differently just because of your status. You just weren’t that type of person. You liked working for the things you desired. Your adventurous side always loved a challenge, and that was also the thing your father admired and feared the most about you.

He always encouraged this side of you, ever since you were a kid. If you wanted to learn how to skate, he’d buy you a skateboard. If you spontaneously wanted to spend the next 3 months away from home in another country, he’d book your flight. One day you showed up at his office to show him your first tattoo. You always said you’d never get a tattoo, you didn’t think it would look good on you. But one day you randomly found yourself in front of a tattoo salon and couldn’t resist the curiosity. Your father was never a big fan of tattoos, but he laughed anyway, called you crazy and snapped a few pictures of the tattoo before sending them to your mom.

Toto didn’t have a lot of rules for you. He always told you “Just don’t get yourself in jail, maybe.”. But the most important and unwritten rule was “never involve yourself with the young drivers.”.

He thought they were immature boys and walking red flags, although he deeply respected them for performing in such a dangerous sport as Formula 1. You, on the other hand were never interested in any of them anyway. You befriended a few of the drivers, sometimes partied with them, but no one really caught your interest. No one besides Lewis Hamilton.

Lewis was your father’s most prized possession in the team. 7 times World Champion (or 8 if you ask me), a genuine person, an expert in what he was doing and the best he could get.

Lewis Hamilton emanated power everywhere he went. He always took his work and image very seriously, always told it as it was and his charming personality never failed to impress everyone in the room. Even the drivers looked up to him, hoping to one day be as great as him. Your first encounter with him was when you were only 15 years old, and to say that you were immediately intimidated by him was an understatement.

The nervousness you constantly felt when you were around him was originally a reaction to all the things you heard about the driver. But as time passed, you found yourself intimidated for others reasons. Maybe it was because you were a teenager and your hormones were going crazy, or because of all the books and fanfiction you used to read at that time, but you couldn’t take your eyes away from him anymore. Everything about him drew you in. His tall and muscular body, his numerous tattoos that gave him a dangerous and playboy vibe, his soothing but rough voice adorned with the most beautiful british accent, his braided hair and smooth skin… That man was basically sex on legs. One of God’s finest pieces.

He instantly took a very protective role in your life. To him, you were basically a child, especially due to the big age-gap between you. But you were also his boss’s daughter so he naturally felt the need to protect you.

Now, at 23, you managed to keep a close friendship with the driver. He was always there if you needed advice for something, always there to rant to about your crazy life and always there for a good time. You spent a lot of vacations with him and his friends. Went to a lot of road trips, skateboard dates, dinner or breakfast dates, countless movie nights, sometimes just the two of you. And although your crush on him never went away, in fact the adoration and attraction only deepened, he not once tried anything with you. He always kept things friendly between you two, decent.

And it frustrated the shit out of you. Sometimes you would catch him staring at you, or even touching you for a minute longer, but never more than that. And you slowly began losing hope that one day he’d see you as more than a friend and his boss’s daughter.

————————————————————————

It’s Friday night. Since you didn’t have any plans for today and were bored out of your mind, you decided to call Lewis to ask if he would go out with you tonight. He apologized and told you that he wasn’t really feeling like doing anything crazy tonight, but insisted that you could come over and spend time together, maybe watch a movie or something. You accepted immediately.

So here you were now, 1AM in his living room, with your head on his lap and eyes closed. You didn’t mean to fall asleep really, but your fucked up sleep schedule was beginning to take a toll on you, making you doze off at very random times. Plus, the way his hand was mindlessly running through your hair felt too good.

You slowly open your eyes when you feel Roscoe licking at your hand. With a groan, you try to sit up and take in everything that’s going on. How long have you been asleep for? “Suits” is still playing on the TV, the room is almost dark except for the light of the television, Roscoe is sitting by the couch, looking back at you with his tongue hanging out, and Lewis is on his phone, probably reading through his emails.

“Thought you’d never wake up.” He chuckled, locking his phone and throwing it on the couch.

“I’m so sorry, Lewis.” You sighed, rubbing your face with your hands in hope of getting rid of the sleepiness and the headache you just woke up with. “I didn’t mean to, lately I’ve been having trouble with sleep. Maybe it’s because of school, I don’t know. My schedule doesn’t really allow me a healthy bed time anymore.”

He looks worried as he reaches out to you, shaking your arm a little.

“You can sleep here if you want. It’s late, you’re obviously very tired. I don’t want you driving back home in this state.” He proposes.

“Yeah? I can?” You chuckle, placing your hand on his. Your stomach flutters when you feel his soft, warm skin.

He looks rather angelic in the low light. His eyes are shiny but tired, his lips look soft and juicy, and his body is comfortably spread on the sofa.

“You know you can, bunny.”

Bunny. He loves to call you that. Ever since you were a teenager, he’d always call you that. You found it cute.

“Okay, then. Can I borrow some clothes, though? These jeans aren’t the most comfortable thing in the world to be honest.” You say, getting up from the couch.

“Yeah, sure.”

You follow him to the guest room. The bed looks cozier than ever, and you quickly find yourself hopping into it, groaning at the feeling of the comfortable and soft mattress. Lewis laughs and leaves you for a moment, but comes back a few seconds later, throwing some clothes on the bed beside you.

“Got you a shirt and some pants. But I’m not sure the pants are gonna fit though. You’re… a lot smaller than me for sure.” He spoke, crossing his arms to his chest. “Sorry.”

“No, Lewis. It’s all good.” You giggle, waving your arm lazily. “Thank you.”

You take a moment to look at him again. He has a soft smile on his face and his body is leaning against the door frame, the dim light in the room accentuating the muscles in his arms. He looked huge. And delicious.

Jesus.

“Good night.” He gently whispered. You say it back and then he finally leaves the room, leaving you all alone. And frustrated.

With a deep sigh, you grab the clothes he gave you and inspect them a little. A simple tie dye t-shirt(he loves these), and a pair of shorts, probably the smalest he had in his wardrobe. And they still looked big. Making a decision, you throw the pants on a chair and only keep the t-shirt, then start to change out of your clothes.

Once that was done, you floop back on the bed and check your phone real quick, before turning off the lights and pulling the blanket over your body.

————————————————————————-

You woke up sweaty. With a groan, you quickly pull the covers off your hot body to try and get some air. Your hair is sticking to your forehead and the massive headache you just woke up with already makes you irritated.

Stretching your body a little, you reach for the phone sitting on the nightstand to check the time. 4AM.

“God dammit.” You curse under your breath, rubbing your face with your palm.

You could feel the faint smell of Lewis’s cologne on the t-shirt he gave you. Le Labo’s Rose 31, his favorite. Biting your lip, you bring the material to your nose and inhale the scent. A moan almost escaped you. You could basically feel him, it was like he was in the room with you again. And that definitely didn’t help your current state.

You start wondering what he might be doing right now. He’s probably sound asleep, spread on his king sized bed with nothing but his boxers on, quietly snoring, like he always does. You wish you were there to see him. Admire him. Touch his skin.

Subconsciously, you let your hand travel down your chest and under the shirt, touching at your hot skin. A shiver hits you, and you curiously start to feel around your stomach with your fingers. With eyes closed, you imagine Lewis touching you like that.

It wasn’t unusual for you to think about him like that. But in your defense, you just couldn’t help it. Everything about him felt masculine. His energy, his body, his voice, his gestures. He was basically the man you always dreamed of having, even for one night. You always wondered what he would be like in bed.

Maybe he’d whisper softly in your ear, call you “sweetheart”, take his time on making you feel good, praising you for how good you are for him. How good you take him. Or maybe, he’d manhandle you, make you do whatever he asks, put you in any position he wants while choking you with his big arms and mockingly slapping your face, degrading you for being such a whore, as his cock would slide in and out of you at an abusive pace, making your juices drip out of you with every deep, harsh thrust.

You don’t even remember the exact moment your fingers started rubbing your clit through your panties. You were definitely soaked, the wetness making a faint noise everytime your middle finger would flick at your pussy down to your enterance. A needy whimper escapes you. You needed more.

With the other hand, you quickly grab at your boobs, softly massaging them one by one and pulling on your sensitive nipples. It was all too much but still not enough. The material of your panties was drenched at this point, so you quickly moved them aside.

Circling your awaiting hole a few times, you insert a finger inside slowly.

“Mm, fuck.” You moan, hiding your face into the pillow so you could hopefully hide the sounds you were making.

You imagined Lewis doing this to you. Sitting between your thighs so he can have a clear image of your creamy pussy as he is pumping his fingers in and out of you. He’d have his mouth on you from time to time, sucking your clit harshly and moving his tongue from one hole to the other. His deep brown eyes would never leave your figure, trying to take in every single inch of you and memorize it, so he can always remember how desperate and ruined he makes you.

“Such a pretty pussy. U’re doing so good for me.” He’d praise.

The squelching sound of your cunt momentarily takes you off the trance. Your hand is wet and you’re working one more finger inside of you now, as your other hand desperately rubs at your sensitive button. You can’t believe you’re doing this in Lewis’s house, especially when his room is so close to yours, but you shamelessly don’t care enough about that right now, not when you’re so close to your orgasm.

“Mphh, Lewis…” You cry out, eyes shut.

As your back arches off the mattress, you start scissoring the fingers inside your pussy faster. You gasp for air as your legs begin to shake violently, your swollen clit throbbing uncontrollably. You moan louder than expected as you come all over your fingers, and the thought of Lewis hearing your needy sounds almost excites you more.

After a few moments, you remove the fingers from your pussy. You needed a shower so bad, maybe it would wash away the shame you were feeling at the pit of your stomach. Were you too loud? Did he hear how pathetic you’ve been, just from his scent and a few scenarios of him fucking you with his mouth and fingers?

Sitting up, you scrunch your face in disgust at the feeling of your drenched and cold underwear. You curse in your head for not taking them off early on. What the fuck were you supposed to wear now?

Deciding to swallow your shame, you finally get up from the bed to make your way to the bathroom that was connected to your room. After washing your hands twice with the expensive soap bar, you look into the mirror to see just how messy you really were. Your cheeks were flushed, your mascara was smudged, skin was glowy with sweat and your hair looked like a bird nest. Basically, it was as if you had just taken part in a gangbang.

With a sigh, you take off your panties and run them through the water, trying to wash away the sin you had just committed. Getting lost in thoughts, your stomach almost startles you as it begins to growl loudly. The little amount of energy you had left and now you felt hungry, and incredibly thirsty. Balancing your options, you wonder if you should leave the room to go get something to eat from the kitchen. Your panties were still wet and you couldn’t imagine wearing them now, but you knew you’d never be able to fall asleep again if your stomach constantly demanded food. Plus, drinking tap water was never an option.

“Fuck.”

Slipping your underwear back on, you inspect yourself in the mirror a little and pull on Lewis’s t-shirt, making sure that it covers enough, just in case.

The whole penthouse is silent as you walk to the kitchen. A few lights are still on, but that’s just how Lewis prefers it. You assume Roscoe is in his room fast asleep as well, because you don’t run into him on your way. Opening the fridge, you immediately grab a bottle of water and place it on the counter, before scanning for some food. The indian takeout boxes were really calling your name right now, so you grabbed two of them before closing the door with your foot.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You almost drop the boxes from your hands when you hear his voice. Turning around, you find him staring at you, with a little smirk on his face.

“You almost shit your pants, bunny. Did I scare you?” He laughs, approaching you.

“Jesus, Hamilton. Almost gave me a heart attack, could’ve died right here on your kitchen floor.” You exhaled, dropping the boxes on the table and placing a hand on your chest, trying to see if your heart was still beating.

“I’m sorry. Won’t do it again.” He chuckles and briefly massages your shoulders, before pushing past you to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. After he takes a few sips, he speaks again. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” You bite back, drinking from your own water, almost gulping down the whole thing.

The thought of what you just did a few moments ago creeps into your head again, and you suddenly wish the ground would swallow you. What if he heard? You get self conscious remembering that you’re only wearing his shirt and your destroyed pair of panties that were still wet and uncomfortable, so you pull on the hem to hopefully try and cover yourself as much as possible.

His top lip twitches for a second, then he smiles and shrugs. “Was thirsty.”

He looked absolutely delicious now, with nothing on but a pair of grey shorts and his braids down. His abs were shining underneath the dim lights, and all you wanted right now really was to drop down on your knees and lick them. You couldn’t look further down though, you feared you might pass out if you saw the imprint of his dick in his pants.

You had the opportunity to take a peek, though. Multiple times. Especially on race weekends, when he would just grab his dick in his hand and struggle to readjust himself through the racing suit before hopping in the car. You knew he was big. You fantasized about how he would feel on your tongue, heavy and large. About how he would fuck your throat rough, making you choke on his cock. About how he would hardly be able to slide into your tight, warm pussy, but when he would finally make it, he’d rip you apart with it until you were left a crying, overstimulated mess.

“Why are you so red, bunny? Are you ill?” He asks, furrowing his brows.

When you finally snap out of your filthy thoughts, he’s already in front of you, checking your temperature with the back of his hand, looking concerned.

“N-no.” You almost sound unsure, your voice cracking a little.

“No?” He shakes his head, cupping your flushed cheeks in his hands.

You couldn’t make eye contact with him, even though you knew he was intently watching you. He was so close that there was almost no space to breathe anymore, and you couldn’t take it, so you hesitantly backed off.

A cheeky smirk was plastered on his face though, and he quickly looked you up and down before grabbing a fork and digging into the food left on the table. You just stood there, petrified. No thoughts behind your eyes.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” He spoke again.

Well, the hunger disappeared, that’s for sure.

You shake your head then clear your throat. “Not hungry anymore. I think I’ll just go back to bed.”

“Hm.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, so you grab the bottle of water and make your way past him, whispering a “good night” softly. After a few seconds, he speaks again.

“Maybe this time you’ll be able to get some sleep instead of moaning my name while you’re touching yourself.”

Your stomach drops. Maybe you’re imagining things. Maybe you’ve gone crazy. But there’s no way this was happening right now. This can’t be real.

You’re stuck in your place for a few moments, calculating your possibilities of escape. Throwing yourself out the window sounds like a good idea now. But you feel cornered, and you can’t think of what to do or say. You were doomed, for sure. But you choose to play dumb instead, so you anxiously turn to him and speak.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been asleep the whole time.”

He says nothing, and that worries you even more.

Then he throws the fork in the sink and finally faces you. He lifts his eyebrows and leans on the counter, with his arms folded to his chest.

“No, you weren’t.” He spoke. “Come here.” He gestures with his hand.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you decide to listen to him and get closer.

“Please don’t tell dad.” You beg. There was no point in denying anymore. He knew.

He chuckles then, and furrows his brows, looking at you funny. God, you just wish all this would be over already. It felt humiliating.

“You think I’d tell Toto about how his daughter is pleasuring herself to the thought of me?”

His words come out as a whisper as he carefully moves a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t know…”

“What were you thinking about?”

You finally get the courage to look into his eyes then. You’re not sure you heard him right.

“What?”

“I think you heard me just right, princess. What were you thinking about when you had these pretty fingers deep inside your pussy?” He asks, lifting your hand and pressing a few kisses to your fingers.

A whine almost escapes your mouth while you’re watching it happen. You’ve never heard Lewis talk like that, especially towards you, and it both sexually frustrated you as well as made you impossibly shy. A deep shade of red is present on your face and you seriously don’t know if you should just risk it all and tell him about your little fantasies or act dumb about it.

“Y/n”

You snap out of it. “I-I don’t know what to say, Lewis. This is so humiliating.” You sigh deeply, covering your face with your hands.

“Hey, hey.” He shushed you, pulling you into his arms. He smelled so good, and his skin felt hot pressed against yours, even with the t-shirt you were wearing as a barrier. “No need for that, bunny. It’s just me.” His words come out as a whisper as he is moving his hand up and down your back. “…Just us.”

Lifting your head slowly, you look into his eyes and bite your lip. This was all you ever wanted. For him to want you back. And now that he finally hinted that he might be into you in that way, had you at a loss of words and action.

Fuck it, you thought. It’s been too long. Too much time spent on secretive glances, crushing, overthinking, masturbating to the thought of him. Maybe you could finally get something out if it.

“I was thinking of you… Touching me.”

“Good girl. How was I touching you, hm?” The praise goes straight to your core as his head falls to your neck to press a few wet kisses, and you swore you could die right there on the spot. His hands squeeze your waist a little before traveling down to your ass, massaging patiently, waiting for you to respond to his question.

You moan at the action, getting lost in the feeling of him touching you like that. In a second, he lifts you up by your thighs and you unconsciously wrap your legs around his waist. He sits you on the counter then positions himself between your bare legs. His warm hands touch the insides of your thighs, making your breath hitch. You still can’t believe this is happening.

“You look so good in my clothes…” He mumbles, lifting one of his hands to your shirt and squeezing your skin a little. When he reaches your breasts, he squeezes harder.

“Mm… Lewis…” You whine pathetically, waiting for more.

“That’s what you were moaning a few minutes ago, baby?”

You look up to find him staring at you intently with his teeth pulling at his lower lip. His eyes were darker, full of lust. You enjoy having him like this, you realized. A man, the man you dreamed about, about to pleasure you.

“Yes.” You confess sincerely, batting your eyelashes at him.

“You’re such a naughty girl…” He whispers, touching your soft cheek with his finger.

His other hand starts wondering further underneath your shirt, and you find yourself opening your legs wider, waiting desperately for his touch. You can feel one of his fingers pressing against your clit only a few seconds later, and you can’t help but moan already. He rubs tight, circular circles on your sensitive button and groans, pushing your body back. You lean back and let him lift your legs on the counter.

“Shit, bunny. You look so delicious right now."

He reaches the band of your underwear and pulls on it urgently, leaving you bare in front of him. Normally you'd get self conscious everytime a man saw you naked, but for some reason that wasn't the case now. The desire to have Lewis eat you out was much bigger than any insecurity you may have. You grow impatient already just thinking about it and you feel your pussy clenching around nothing. He notices.

“I’m going to eat this pretty pussy.”

“Please.” You say immediately, eager to feel his tongue on your most sensitive spot.

He pulls you closer to the edge of the counter and gets on his knees, holding onto your shaky legs. You played this scenario in your head over and over again so many times, and you craved to see it finally happen. You really need to see him.

Standing up a little, you think you might just pass out. There he was, propped between your legs, licking a fat stripe of your pussy. He makes eye contact then and moans, connecting his lips to your puffy clit and sucking, hard.

Your body twitches on instinct and you whimper, pushing your needy pussy into his face. He moans and starts licking up and down your cunt, pushing his tongue inside you from time to time.

“Yes… Just like that.” You manage to say.

He’s hungrily lapping at your cunt like he hadn’t eaten in days, collecting all your sweet essence with his eager mouth. You can’t help but yelp a little when you feel two of his thick, long fingers pushing inside your tight pussy. It stings a little, but he doesn’t let you adjust, instead he pushes them deeper and curls them, making your eyes roll and your jaw drop.

“Oh my god." You gasp, arching your back so hard that you think it might break in half. His mouth is still attached to your sensitive clit, pressing torturous licks on it.

He pulls away a little bit, looking at how his two fingers push in and out of you, all shiny with your juices. His darkened eyes were glued to your pussy, like he was hypnotized by the sight. And he was. Suddenly, his eyes snap to yours and you think you’d never seen something hotter in your entire life.

“Look at you, baby… Hear the sounds your pretty pussy is making for me? You’re so fucking wet.” He humms and gives your puffy clit a sharp slap, fucking his fingers faster inside you.

You scream his name, like you always dreamed of doing. You’re desperately trying to hump his hand to get more, already feeling the familiar tightness in your lower stomach building rapidly. He doesn’t like that, so he quickly pushes your hips down with his free hand, keeping you in place. You don’t get to protest, because then he curls his fingers right on your g-spot, having your body tense immediately. You’re almost breathless and trashing your tiny body on his counter, and when he gets his hand on you and starts to flick your clit with rapid movements, you know you’re done for.

“That’s it. Cum all over my fingers like a good girl.”

You don’t hear anything for a few seconds after that. Your ears are tingling, your toes are curling and your whole body is shaking violently. Your orgasm washes over you in an instant, your pussy clenching down on his two fingers.

While you’re busy trying to catch your breath, he doesn’t stop. He continues to fuck you with his fingers, a bit slower now, and he reattached his mouth to your pussy, licking it slowly.

Feeling overstimulated, you immediately jerk away from his touch, twitching uncontrollably.

“N-no… too much!” You whimper, pushing his head back.

“Mm.” He slowly removes his fingers, and you feel yourself clenching around nothing. He’s chasing a trail of cum that your pussy is pushing out with his tongue and moans. “Such a sweet pussy. Sweetest I’ve ever had.” He praises.

You don’t say anything. Mostly because you can’t. Your whole body feels like jelly, still shaky from the powerful orgasm you just had. But you knew he wasn’t done with you yet. No, he gets up and grabs your chin forcefully, smashing your lips together. You can taste yourself on his lips and it makes your head spin and your pussy leak. Again.

When he finally pulls away, he takes a moment to look at your fucked out expression and humms, licking his lip.

“Was it good, bunny?” A smirk creeps out on his face.

“Yes…” You reply, the shyness taking place in you again as you batt your eyelashes at him.

“Good…” He whispers softly, tugging slowly on your bottom lip. “God, I want to fuck you so bad right now.”

God, the things this man makes you feel. He just fucked you stupid with his mouth and fingers and now he wants to fuck your pussy? It had to be a dream.

You want to take advantage of this moment for as long as you can.

“Fuck me, Lewis. I want it.”

The way you just look up at him so innocently but so seductive at the same time, with lips swollen, slightly messy hair and smudged mascara, makes his dick twitch. It isn’t the first time he’s rock hard for you though. No. You never knew this, but he had his eyes on you too. For the past few months, at race weekend, everytime he’d see you, you’d have him losing his mind. Walking around in short skirts and crop tops, or those lovely sundresses you adore so much. It made his dick throb, and he had to make up some excuses a few times just to run back to his driver’s room and touch himself. But he wasn’t only attracted to you because of those things. Your energy captivated him completely, and he knew he wasn’t the only one dreaming about having you. He wasn’t blind, nor stupid. He saw the way the other younger drivers or random people in the pit crew looked at you. How they smiled at you or tried to make you laugh, subtly touching you. It made him feral.

Toto was his boss. They go way back. Lewis admired your father, in many ways, and the bond they formed through working together was tight, for sure. He knew about the stupid rule he had for you, about dating or messing around with the drivers, and he respected that. Up until recently, when he started looking at you in a different light, and the rule suddenly frustrated him deeply. He never had a problem staying away from you. The need to protect you was the only thing on his mind. Then he started to finally see you.

How smart you were, how much joy you bring when you walk into a room. How everyone stops to look or listen to you when you talk. How adventurous you are and openly emotional without a care about what other people might think of you. The way you’re always there for people, the warmth you possess. Your unintentional seductiveness. Your charm.

Now, he had you exactly where he wanted. He wasn’t sure at first if he should tell you that he heard your sweet sounds when you masturbated to the thought of him, but he became desperate. All he needed was confirmation that you felt the same way about him as he felt about you. And he got it. He wasn’t gonna let you slip away this time. And he was done thinking about how complicated the situation is with your father.

Grabbing at your hand, he helps you get off the counter. You look at him confused, scared that he might realize that everything was a mistake and he’d changed his mind. But the thought quickly vanishes when he starts kissing your neck and nipping at your skin, lifting your shirt with his hands.

“I’m not gonna fuck my pretty girl in a kitchen. My sweet baby deserves a bed, no?” His raspy voice sends goosebumps on your skin and you nod, letting him walk you backwards to his room, as he finally manages to get rid of the only material left on your body.

When you get to his room, he carefully pushes you on the bed, with him on top. The cold air in the room hits your sensitive flesh and makes your nipples harden. Licking your lips, you raise your head from the soft pillow to look at him. His gaze is darkened and his bottom lip sits between his teeth, pulling at it desperately, like he was trying so hard to keep his control. You wanted him to lose it. All of it.

“Please, Lewis… Fuck me. Wanted this for so long.” A whine escapes your lips and you pout, caging his body between your legs as your legs wrap tightly around his torso.

Your confession made him groan. He wanted to keep this moment in his memory forever. How needy you are begging for him to fuck you, how pretty you looked all spread out on his bed, with your hair tousled on his pillow, your lips puffy from his kisses and your eyes glossy and dazed.

Finally, he gets rid of the shorts he was wearing, pulling them off along with his boxers. You're left speechless as you shamelessly stare at his very erect cock. It's thick and you can spot a few angry veins almost popping, running up towards the head. It's standing proud and tall glued to his pelvis, almost reaching his belly button, and it has your mouth water.

He notices how you stare at him with your cheeks flushed and your lip between your teeth and smirks, tapping your thigh a few times to get your attention.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"It's so big..."

"Yeah? Never had a real man before, princess?" He asks, raising your leg to his shoulder and pressing soft kisses on your soft skin while maintaining eye contact with you.

You shake your head timidly.

"Gonna make you feel so good. You trust me?"

"Yes." You respond immediately, squirming under him.

"Just hold on for a sec. I gotta have some condoms in here." He lets go of your leg and leans towards his nightstand to search for the condoms.

"W-wait." You stopped him, pressing a hand to his chest. You were anxious when your next words left your lips. "I... I'm clean, and on birth control, so if you want, there's no need for that."

He turned his head to look at you and stopped in his tracks.

"Want me to fuck you bare, bunny?" He reached a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and looked at you lovingly, with a grin on his face.

"Mhm." You mumbled, nodding your head. "If that's okay with you, of course!" You rushed the words out.

"I'm more than okay with that." He hummed, caressing your hip with his thumb. "Come 'ere."

He pulled you lower on the bed and leaned forward, gripping your cheeks and smashing his lips with yours. He kisses you slow at first, taking his time to taste you. Then, as his hands start to explore your naked body, it turns wild. You feel dizzy as you wrap your hands around his neck to bring him even closer and your hot bodies stick to each other. It feels so intimate, you've never experienced something like this with someone before. His erection is standing right between your legs and it makes you raise your hips eagerly. You want him inside already.

"So eager." He whispers and smirks, pulling away a bit.

You glance down and lick your lips as he lines himself up, watching him tap your clit a few times with his cock, then pushing his head through your sensitive folds to collect all your juices. It sends jolts of electricity through your body and you whimper, spreading yourself a bit more. When he finally slides in, it's so overwhelming that you let your mouth hang open with a loud moan. The stretch is stinging a lot, but there's another sensation that comes with it that makes it so pleasurable at the same time.

Lewis watches you carefully and stills his movements, to let you adjust to his size. Your eyebrows are slightly furrowed as you try to relax as much as you can to accomodate your thight walls around him. Once you feel the pain diminuate a bit you nod your head, letting him know that he can move further.

He slips in a little more then and lets himself moan at the heavenly feeling of your bare, tight pussy squeezing him tightly.

"Doing sooo good, baby. Taking me like a pro." He praises, moving your damp hair out of your face.

He bottoms out inside you and you whimper. He's so deep that you could swear you felt it in your stomach, but you want more.

As if he could read your mind, he slowly pulls out a bit then pushes himself inside again, making you let out tiny mewls and moans as you got to feel every ridge and vein of his cock. Lewis humms and buries his face in your neck, leaving wet, hot kisses all over it before going down to your breasts and taking one of them in his mouth and swirling his tongue around your hard, sensitive nipple. He starts to thrust his hips in a steady rhythm while taking your other breast in his mouth and all you can do is arch your back and whine, overwhelmed by the intense feeling.

"So fucking tight." He hissed, leaning back to grab your thighs and lift them on his shoulders, the new position allowing him to hit your spot better. You felt so full of him, and you were ready to cry from the pleasure.

"Lewis." You let out a loud moan and touch his abs, scratching them as he suddenly surprises you with a rougher pace that makes you roll your eyes back and let out a cry.

“Shit.” He curses, groaning when he feels your pussy clench around his fat cock. “Thought about fucking this pretty pussy every single day lately. And now look at you, all fucked out on my bed.”

His words make your head spin. You had no idea he thought about this just like you did, so many times.

“Y-you thought about me?” You manage to ask between moans, looking down for a second to catch a glimpse of his dick sliding in and out of you at a fast pace.

He went in for a messy kiss then pulled back a little, looking at you with half closed eyes. “You have no idea.” He mutters, grabbing your neck softly.

The sounds in the room are intoxicating. It’s filled with heavy breaths, moans, skin slapping repeatedly and the filthy sound of your impossibly wet pussy getting filled to the brim by Lewis. Your gaze is locked with his and it feels like there’s just the two of you left in this world. Nothing matters anymore. Not your dad, not your age gap, nothing. It’s so intense and intimate that it almost has your heart burst out of your chest.

Your thighs are trembling as he folds them to your chest, and your hands are frantically searching for something to grip onto, while incoherent sounds are dripping off your lips.

“You wanna cum, princess?” He asks, smirking down at you.

“Yes! Yes, please please don’t stop.” You beg, shaking your head as short screams leave your mouth.

He’s quick to drag a hand down to your pussy and starts rubbing your clit harshly with his thumb to force your release. The added pleasure makes you pulsate rapidly around his cock and you find yourself arching your back off the mattress again, struggling to breathe as your orgasm is nearing quickly.

“Come on, want you to make a mess on this cock, baby. Can you do that for me?”

You nod your head pathetically and yelp when he pinches your swollen clit, letting out a loud cry as your orgasm washes over you. It hits you so quickly and so violently that it makes your breath get stuck and your eyes squeeze shut while your legs are uncontrollably shaking. Your juices are dripping down Lewis’s cock and onto the mattress underneath you, and it’s a sight to die for as he watches it all happen.

“Good girl. Did so good f’ me.” He coos, but doesn’t stop the movements of his hips, although he slows down a bit to let you come down from your orgasm.

When you open your eyes to look at him, you find him already looking at you, with an enamored expression on his face. His hand is softly caressing your thigh while he is admiring the post-orgasmic glow of your skin.

Soon enough, he is picking up his pace again and you whine in discomfort and overstimulation, furrowing your brows.

“Can’t. Please. Can’t.” You squirm underneath him.

“You can, baby. Come on, just a little bit more.”

Using his arms, he spreads your legs wider so he can have more access to you. His thrusts quicken again and his fingers attaches themselves to your clit again, pressing into it in circular motions. You were squeezing him so tightly that he could barely move inside you but he pulled through, ramming his hips into yours with brutal force, trying to chase his own release.

“Oh.” You gasped and glued your eyes down to where your cunt was greedily sucking him in. Your milky essence is visible at the base of his cock and the sight is downright filthy.

“Fuck.” He grunts, also watching where you two are connected before he lunges towards you and grips your neck more tightly and yanks you forward a bit. You prop up on your elbows and look at him with wide, doe eyes, moaning uncontrollably. “Where do you want it, bunny?”

“Inside!” You respond immediately, placing one of your hands around his wrist. “Want you to come inside my pussy. Please.”

Your eagerness to take his cum inside your tiny walls makes him shiver with enthusiasm. His tip hits your g-spot with every powerful snap of his hips and it made you part your lips in bliss. Lewis takes the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth, kissing you messily. You suddenly start to feel a different kind of pressure at the pits of your stomach and you wince, pulling back from the kiss.

“Lewis… I think there’s something wrong. Feels different.” You slurred, your eyes widening in fear.

“It’s alright, baby. I’m here. Give me one more, yeah?” He grunted, flicking at your clit with his palm rapidly.

The bed is moving with the rhythm of his aggressive thrusts and you feel your muscles contract and twitch with every move. You’re fluttering around him desperately as you scratch down his back with your polished nails and he moans deeply.

“Fuck. Gonna stuff this pretty cunt. Come on, come for me. again, baby.” You know he is close by how much you can feel him throb inside of you.

With a particularly sharp thrust your orgasm washes over you, and you scream, letting your back fall on the mattress as you squirted, your juices making a mess on both you and Lewis. The sight makes him burst instantly and he groans, throwing his head back while he stills inside of you, pumping you full of his cum.

You’ve never done this before. I mean, you definitely heard of squirting, but no one was ever able to get you to this stage. You quickly become self conscious. What if he didn’t like it? What if he found you disgusting now? Terrified, you look up to him only to find out how wrong you were. He is already looking your way, with a huge smirk on his face.

“Look at that. My pretty bunny squirted all over the place.”

You blush deeply at his words and cover your face with your hands, but he is quick to grab them and pin them to the bed around your head.

“Why are you hiding? What’s wrong?” He chuckled, amused by the childish action.

“I… I’ve never done that before.”

“Did it feel good though?” He asked with a smug grin.

“Mhm…” You bite your lip and writhe slightly, making him moan at the sudden movement.

He carefully pulls out of you and leans back on his heels, only to see both of your releases slowly drip out of your cunt. He humms and brings two fingers there to massage around your hole, and then he pushes them inside, fucking the cum back into you.

You whine and he stops, looking back at you.

“Wait here for a second, hm? I’m going to draw you a bath.”

You nod and thank him quietly, watching him lovestruck as he gets up from the bed, collects his boxers from the floor and pulls them on, then disappears to the bathroom.

Few minutes later you’re both in the tub, your back is pressed against his chest and your eyes are closed in relaxation while he is lazily running his hand through your hair.

Even though the silence is comfortable, you can’t help but start to overthink. What was he thinking about? You didn’t necessarily think he regretted what you did, but what did it mean? Was he going to ghost you after that? Act like nothing ever happened? You wouldn’t judge him, especially considering the situation with your father, but you hoped that it wouldn’t be the case. Part of you was convinced that he wouldn’t just leave you in the dark like that. That wasn’t Lewis. Could never be Lewis. But your insecurities are still eating you alive.

Then he takes you by surprise again by reading your mind. “What are you thinking about?”

“I was actually wondering what were you thinking about.” You chuckle, leaning your head back a bit to look at him. God, how can this man be so beautiful?

He smiles softly and nuzzles his nose along your cheek, pressing a sweet and tender kiss to it.

You let out a breath and sigh, closing your eyes at the sensation. “I was just asking myself… what now, I guess.” You shrugged, with a heavy heart.

He furrows his brows and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. “What do you want?”

You gulped and licked your lips, looking at him through your lashes. “I want you.”

“Then you have me. And you know I want you too. But it’s going to be a lot more complicated than that.” He whispers to you and you feel your heart drop on the spot, afraid of what he might be insinuating.

Noticing the broken look in your eyes, he quickly places his hands on both your cheeks and leans forward. “What I mean by that is, that we should be careful. I know keeping things a secret isn’t healthy, but giving the circumstances, I don’t think it would benefit either of us right now if someone found out about what we have going on. I promise that it won’t last forever, I would never keep you a secret, but for now that’s just the way things are.”

You take in his words. You know he is right. And you’ll take anything as long as it means that he’ll be finally yours. Even though the thought of keeping a secret like that, especially from your dad, makes you feel uneasy. But you’re so ready to give it a shot, just for him. What if everything turns out alright in the end?

“I know. And I understand.” You nodded, closing your eyes and pressing your lips against his in a tender kiss.

When you pull back, he gives you a quick wink and a smile, tapping the inside of your thigh lightly. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 #formula 1 #lh44 #lh44 x reader

137 notes · View notes

luvkyu · 19 hours

Text

loveholic ( jeong jaehyun )

jaehyun x male!reader

jaehyun just wants some boyfriend time

content : 1k words, fluff, established relationship, baby jaehyun agenda, uni au, baby/babe petnames, showering together ( sfw )

jaehyun bit the inside of his cheek as he continued to stare off into the distance, scanning the different faces that passed. his boyfriend was late. well, later than he usually was. jaehyun hadn't even agreed to meet him at a certain time, he just knew y/n's schedule, and he knew that y/n took this way back to his dorm after his class. he totally wasn't borderline obsessed.

"jaehyun? you coming?"

jaehyun looked over at doyoung and the rest of his friends, who were on their way back home after a long study group session. he quickly shook his head before turning his attention back to finding y/n.

doyoung let out a small scoff, unsurprised. jaehyun always seemed to put his boyfriend first, but his friends didn't necessarily mind. everyone knew y/n was jaehyun's world, and seeing their friend happy was enough.

"okay, we're heading to the party after we drop our stuff off at the dorms, so see you later." doyoung smiled while waving. jaehyun only nodded again as doyoung turned with the others and left him alone.

jaehyun sighed lowly. maybe y/n went a different way today? he pulled out his phone and rushed to hit the call button next to y/n's name.

after it a rang a few times, jaehyun finally heard his boyfriend's sweet voice coming through.

"hi, love."

"y/n!!"

y/n laughed softly at jaehyun's enthusiasm, "what's up?"

"are you done with your class? i'm waiting for you by the benches."

"oh, i agreed to get dinner with my friend tonight remember? i took a different way to go with her," y/n explained.

"oh, right.."

y/n could practically hear jaehyun's pout through the phone. he smiled to himself and quickly came up with a solution.

"tell you what, i'll come straight to your dorm after dinner and we can spend all night together. sound good?" he offered instead.

"mm, i guess."

"and i'll give you as many kisses as you want."

"alright, deal," jaehyun accepted, unable to keep his smile at bay.

"okay, see you soon!"

"bye, baby," jaehyun replied before ending their call.

jaehyun sighed and lowered his headset around his neck. he was trying to kill time by playing video games. it worked for the first couple hours, but now all he could think of was what time y/n would arrive.

just as he got up to go grab a drink, a knock finally sounded at his door. his eyes widened in hope while he skipped over to answer it.

"hi!" y/n chimed. he knew jaehyun was just about the most impatient man there was, so he tried his best to rush over to his room.

"y/nn," jaehyun hummed while pulling him inside. "missed you."

y/n smiled as his boyfriend held his face and placed small kisses all over him. y/n's hands lifted around jaehyun's waist, happy to accept the affection.

"how's my boy?" jaehyun asked once he finally stopped kissing. y/n blushed at those words.

"i'm alright. kinda tired.. you?"

"i'm good now that you're here," jaehyun answered quickly. "are you physically tired or mentally tired?"

"both."

jaehyun frowned. "wanna sleep?"

y/n shook his head, securing his arms tightly around the other in a warm hug. "no, i wanna be with you for a while."

jaehyun smiled. he was hoping for that answer. he cupped y/n's face again, kissing his lips this time.

"can i take a quick shower in your bathroom?" y/n asked.

"only if i can join."

y/n rolled his eyes and stepped away from jaehyun, his arms falling.

"we both know where that would go. i just want a quick wash."

jaehyun's lower lip poked out, grasping at the hem of y/n's shirt. "i promise no funny business! i just wanna be with you."

y/n stared at him with narrow eyes for a second. he sighed and nodded, "fine."

jaehyun instantly perked up. he gave y/n one more kiss on the cheek.

"thank you, babe."

y/n watched jaehyun skip into the bathroom happily, starting the water in his shower.

"i am dating a literal baby," y/n mumbled to himself before following after him.

jaehyun was already undressed and in the shower before y/n could blink. he found it amusing how jaehyun's demeanor always changed once they were alone. jaehyun needed a lot of attention and physical touch, but he hated being clingy around his friends. y/n didn't mind it though. if anything, he just found it adorable.

jaehyun watched as y/n slipped his shirt and bottoms off before he stepped into the shower with him. y/n was quick to duck his head under the water and rub his face in exhaustion. jaehyun reached up to help soak y/n's hair, his large hands gently threading through the other's locks.

a few moments passed in comfortable silence. y/n closed his eyes and let the water continue to run over him, while jaehyun watched with a content smile.

"long day?"

y/n only nodded at the question.

"can i do anything to help?" jaehyun asked.

y/n moved away from the water and wiped his face. he smiled and gave his boyfriend a light kiss on his lips.

"you already help so much, baby."

jaehyun couldn't help but grin at that reply. his dimples and pretty smiling eyes were y/n's favorite view.

"just keep being my jaehyun, okay?"

jaehyun quickly nodded before cupping y/n's face and kissing him again.

"i love you," jaehyun mumbled against his lips. he began moving down y/n's neck, trailing light open mouth kisses against his skin. y/n felt heat instantly rush to his cheeks.

"i love you too, jae.. let's not get carried away though."

jaehyun pulled away, still with his beaming smile, and nodded.

"okay, okay," he gave in.

taglist ★! :

@kssyivo @jaemmphilia @vkooksupremacy @haocovr @astrozuya @themiddlefingerinthesky @dontwannaexsist

#kpop x male reader #male reader #nct x male reader #nct x reader #nct #nct fanfic #nct ff #nct fluff #nct jaehyun #nct 127 #jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x male reader #kpop x reader #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic

106 notes · View notes

euphoriesx · 24 hours

Text

W/ THE BOY NEXT DOOR? GURL, YOU'RE IN 4 A TREAT !!

director romi's first movie starring choso kamo !!

CO-STARRING : fem! reader, suggestive.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ when choso moves in, you don't bat an eye - well, in actual fact, you do. his compression shirt is too tight on his torso, accentuating his lean figure, and oh, those abs are something you can't miss. and look at those boo- you stop yourself, walking right back into your house. however, rather unknown to you, there's going to be many more encounters with this lucky stranger.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ that time your car didn't work, choso drove you to your date. it was awkward, of course, but there was no way you were walking all the way to the selected meeting spot. for the first five minutes, you were both silent, till he asked something. it was the first time you realised his voice was quite ... attractive. soft and velvety.

'you're not single?'

'nah.' you gave him a straight answer, though regretted it immediately, seeing a sunken look in the raven head's face.

'funny. i'd have thought a pretty girl like you would have a guy already.'

'why else would i be living alone?'

you got out of the car straight after that, deciding it would be better to just walk the rest of the way. no point in trying to communicate with someone you'd probably never see or talk to again.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ but the breaking moment was the presence of choso's little brother, yuji. he was seven at the time, though when you asked choso about the age difference, he merely shrugged it off. you'd become friends at this point, despite your warnings to yourself to not get so close to him, though you found yourself squished on a couch desperately, dangerously close to choso, yuji sitting on the carpeted floor, giggling as he smashed dolls against one another, making loud sound effects every so often.

'your house is nice.' you smile, feeling your heart jump as choso leans closer to hear you amidst yuji's 'kapows' and 'boom!! killed you's. it's when you realise his eyes are very pretty ... so is his hair ... well, his whole face, really.

little did you know, he thought the same thing about you.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ the funniest moment of all had to be the 'joke' date choso set up, of course with your consent, just to get back on a particularly bitchy ex ('who would leave choso kamo of all people?' you had asked yourself, as he recounted the news to you). you still keep the polaroids near your bed every night, stuck to your vanity; it brought a smile to your face even if you passed it and saw the photos through your peripheral vision, recognising every little figure and smile that made choso.

you never heard if that ex got back together with him, but deep inside, you really did hope that she didn't. if you were hideous enough to dump choso, then you didn't deserve any of his attention. it brought a huff to your lips, though probably something more akin to jealousy rather than frustration on his part.

he lied. he just wanted to be with you.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ it's when the alcohol pours out of your mouths and drips onto the floor that he confesses - and it's more than a confession, it's a declaration of love, a love that never dies in the nine months he has stayed beside your house, seeing your every movement and coy grin. his 22nd, and he's invited you over among the sneaky comments from his friends about the girl he's pulled, comments you brush off.

'you know, i really like you, y/n.'

'you're lying,' you slur, tipping a shot down your throat.

'nah' nah,' he giggles. 'i love you so much. from the very moment i saw you, from the moment we met eyes, i needed you. not just to hold, i wanna feel you de-eeep inside, wanna feel you from the inside out, ya know?'

'if ya think love's like dat, then maybe i love you too,' an equally giddy laugh from your part, as you feel a wild hand stroke itself down the small of your back, grip your ass tightly, as if you're the only possession of his in the whole world.

'feel me inside of you, if ya luv me so much.' a slutty grin, and your eyes trail down his broad shoulders, down his snatched waist, his veiny forearms, his long hands, those fingers that you'd love so much to feel up your throbbing little clit.

'oh god, i will.' is your only answer, as he throws you over his shoulder, the plastic cup now somewhere only he knows. and, oh god, what a treat.

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #choso smut #choso kamo smut #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso x female reader #choso kamo x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk headcanons #smut #suggestive

95 notes · View notes

apomaro-mellow · 1 day

Text

Honestly I was thinking about the end of ofmd s1 and it evolved to this. Steddie; omegaverse

Uhhh, loosely set in the Regency era but not particularly important, trigger warnings for sexual assault, use of date rape drugs

He should have never met Edgar Munson. Society dictated that their paths should never cross. That there would always be at least five degrees of separation between them. But the hands of fate were a stronger force. One that saw fit to have Steve find himself making polite conversation with an alpha below his station. Polite conversation turned to familiarity, which then turned to scandalous flirting, which then became a secret courtship.

Steve received the gifts from his beloved under some sort of cover. No one could know about their relationship. Even the nest offering, the last gift before an official engagement, had to be hidden. Of course they couldn't be publicly wed, not with Steve's family name, not on this continent.

That was how Eddie filled his head with visions of the New World. A place where they could be free and make their own lives. A land where no one knew how different they were.

"Just imagine it", Eddie had said, one morning after a night of lovemaking. "You, me, a pup or two perhaps, and a little corner of our own."

"Mmm, you paint a pretty picture", Steve said while playing with Eddie's hair. And it was a lovely thought. "But how's about three or four? Or maybe even five? I always wanted a big family."

He imagined children frolicking in fields, perfect mixtures of his and Eddie's features. Blissful as they were unaware of the pressures of high society that their dame had come from. Steve would give up the extravagance for all the love Eddie was able to store in this cramped room in a bed that just barely fit them both.

"Whatever my love desires", Eddie kissed him. "Just promise me that you'll run away with me."

"To the ends of the earth", Steve promised, sealing it with a kiss.

As Steve got dressed, Eddie did his damndest to keep him here, where he had eyes laid on him.

"The boat will leave at sunrise tomorrow. You may as well stay."

"If I spend the whole day here, my father will send out a search party. We need to keep suspicion low if I am to be spirited away by you."

"'Spirited away'? By me? That's an odd way of saying you're taking us on a whirlwind trip across the ocean." Considering Steve put up the money for their passage and would be footing most of the bills until they were officially set up with jobs in America, it was more like Steve was taking Eddie on the trip.

"Either way, it would be prudent if I went home and treated today as if it were absolutely average." Meanwhile, an energy would buzz within Steve the whole time.

He was dressed and at the door while Eddie was still in his underthings, holding him tight. Steve was no better, loathe to let him go. How he wished for just one day the hours would pass faster so that they could start their new lives together.

"You have to let me go eventually, love."

"But what if I don't? Steve...my moon and my stars, why part when we will just see each other again?"

"You know why."

"I've got a bad feeling. I've read too many novels where lovers parted with a vow to meet again and they almost never do."

"You know novels rot the mind", Steve said. "And our lives are not fiction. You'll see. I'll go home, have some tea with mother, rebuff Sir Hagan yet again, and get through one last dinner before going off to bed."

Then, under guide of moonlight, he would meet Eddie at the docks just down the street. They could hear the gulls and sailors from here, it was so close they could both taste it.

Eddie's eyes were closed, giving a silent prayer that it would be so. A hope that the only hitch in their plan would be Steve getting seasick. Finally, Steve left and all Eddie had to do was double check what he was packing. There were a few clothes, a couple of items his parents owned before their passing that he was sure his uncle would want to see.

Wayne had gone to the New World just a few years ago, wanting to make the trip before 'his old bones gave out', or so he said. Eddie let out a wistful sigh, getting by as he imagined introducing Steve to his uncle. And hopefully, there would be a bundle of good news on the way. They would be at sea for a few months, after all.

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

Steve managed to sneak back into his room, no problem, but the moment he did, he could tell something was off. Steve's nest as usually immaculate, but he caught a whiff of something that shouldn't be there. Tossed right onto his pillow was a monogrammed handkerchief that stunk of Tommy.

He let out a scoff of disgust and picked it up, intending to put it away when he noticed one of his drawers was left open and had been rifled through. In a panic, Steve went towards it to confirm what he already knew. Eddie's nest offering had been a simple piece of cloth that he had scented. A small scrap that Steve imagined putting in a quilt one day.

Gone.

"Ah, there he is, the man of the hour."

Tommy came walking in from Steve's boudoir, right into his bedroom unannounced. Steve was knocked off his axis at the impropriety and even more so as he began to put the pieces together.

"What is this? Wh-why are you here? In my room? I don't understand."

"Don't be so anxious, Stevie. I was bound to find my way in here eventually. Your father was so kind to allow me in so that I could surprise you with my gift."

"My father?", Steve hissed, betrayed. It was all about being proper and following the right customs until doing the opposite suited one, wasn't it? The numerous times his father told him to stay on the straight and narrow, to never allow an alpha to skip steps with him. And now!?

"You haven't even giving me a single courting gift prior. I haven't even given you leave to court me." Then the open drawer came back to his attention. "Have you been going through my things?"

"Found something interesting while I was leaving my gift. Seems somebody snuck in a piece of trash", Tommy pulled Eddie's cloth from his pocket and Steve immediately lunged for it.

Tommy tried to move back but in his desperation Steve overpowered him and took it back, dropping the other handkerchief. Tommy watched as his own favor sat on the ground.

"You really are fucking a peasant, aren't you?"

"I think that's enough, Mr. Hagan", Steve's father, a Mr. Martin Harrington, entered the room.

"How could you let him into my room!?", Steve accused.

"Your room? Now I do believe this house is in my name. And I am within my rights to allow Mr. Hagan into any room I please. As for the courting, I have already given my permission for him to do so. And he has already given you all the gifts required. They're right their in your antechamber. You would have seen them, had you been in your room last night."

Steve held the cloth to his heart. He didn't like where this was going. What the last gift was supposed to mean. "You can't expect me to marry him."

"Oh you will, in about three days time."

"You don't think people will be suspicious about the short engagement?"

"Everyone knows that Mr. Hagan's had his eye on you. And you, of course, have not been entertaining any other suitors", Mr. Harrington's eyes narrowed on what Steve held. "Young love is so passionate these days. I highly doubt anyone will bat an eye at it. It's best you forget about all else and prepare for your wedding. Your mother wants it to be a grand affair."

"Father please-"

"As a matter of fact, I see no reason not to have you both live as newly weds now. Mr. Hagan can stay here until the wedding, where you will be housed in his estate. Keep my Steve out of trouble", he said to Tommy.

Tommy nodded. "Of course."

Steve wanted to cry out but knew it would do him no good. He spent the whole day, trying to plan some sort of escape. But there was always someone with him. That someone was usually Tommy, who looked like he was fine marrying Steve with a broken leg. Night fell and Tommy laid himself in Steve's nest. The one place he had felt safe besides Eddie's arms. Ruined.

Steve opted to sleep in the other room, on a couch most certainly not meant for sleeping. Tommy only urged him a little, seemingly assured that Steve would come around eventually. Steve checked the window and of course there was a man guarding down below. He didn't even have to check the hallway, hearing heavy boots pass over his door every few minutes, making sure no one was coming in or out.

Steve felt his heart clench as the hours pass and the first rays of sun began to shine.

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

Eddie was waiting. The gangway was right behind him and the crew was ready to shove off. He knew only death would keep Steve from being here. Eddie was dreading something worse than death when he saw Jason Carver of all people stepping out of a carriage, looking smug as always.

"Waiting for someone, freak?"

"Where is Steve?", Eddie demanded, cutting through the bullshit.

"He has other more important things to attend to. Marriage can be quite time consuming business. I'm here to make sure you get on that boat."

"Like hell I'm leaving without him!"

Any fight Eddie put up was tamped down by the two lugs Carver had brought along, muscling him into a tight hold as they tied him up with rope and gagged him. Jason only put his hands on him to procure the boarding passes.

"He'll only be needing one of these", Jason said to the captain as Eddie was carried on board, struggling. "You can untie him once you're a good distance from the shore."

Eddie was screaming his lungs out from the gag in his mouth but it was anyone's guess as to what he was actually saying. The captain shook his head, sympathetic, but not enough to help Eddie out or get involved in any way. About an hour into the voyage, he was released and the first thing he did was try and jump overboard.

"Best to let go of whatever you just left behind", the captain said, patting his shoulder as a couple of sailors held him back from jumping into the sea.

"The love of my life is still there! He needs me! They're gonna...fuck...they're gonna..." Eddie knew what awaited Steve in his family had discovered them. He laid his head against the wood, determined to find his way back to him. He knew the captain wouldn't let him take any of the rowboats, and the crew kept watch on him like they expected him to steal it.

Their plan could still work. It didn't matter if they forced him into marriage, Steve would still love him. Eddie was just getting a headstart on building their new life.

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

The prospect of marrying Tommy under duress made him sick to his stomach but not knowing Eddie's fate made him feel worse. Steve didn't want to believe that Eddie would leave without him, but the alpha himself had admitted there wasn't anything left for him in this town. With him having an uncle overseas, Steve didn't think Eddie planned to stay much longer, even if they hadn't planned to elope.

But if he was still here, he would have shown his face by now, wouldn't he? He wouldn't leave Steve here all alone. Especially when the wedding announcement went out. Steve held out hope, even as his wedding day came, that Eddie would burst in like a blaze and whisk him away.

As if reading his thoughts, his mother brought it up while preparing him for the day. He had mostly tuned her out. She seemed determined to ignore the breach of courting customs in favor of the fact that her only child was finally being wed. A load off her shoulders apparently. But she started talking about her worries about whoever Steve had been running around with and that brought him back in.

"Well, thank the Lord, Mr. Carver put him on a boat. We won't need to worry about him anymore."

"He what?"

"Shipped him right off. Now you only have to think about keeping Mr. Hagan happy. And all the handsome pups you'll have of course."

Steve was a ghost at his own wedding and if anyone noticed, they didn't say anything. He didn't come back into himself until night fell and Tommy tried to make him perform his wifely duties. Steve smacked him across the face at the first slight and kicked him out of the bedroom.

He kept the cold shoulder up for about a week before both his mother and father reprimanded him. Told him that after marriage, his next task was to let his husband lay his seed and continue the family line. The last thing Steve wanted was Tommy's hands on him, much less his seed in him. But he supposed he could let the man sleep in his own bedroom.

Tommy made his favorite tea as a peace offering, placating Steve with sweet words.

"You are my wife, my partner in everything. I only want you to be happy."

Steve wanted to believe that, he really did. And he was tired of putting up a fight. So he drank the tea. It fogged his mind and the rest of the night seemed like a hazy dream. And not a good one. His suspicions were confirmed when he awoke with an ache in his lower body.

Steve started to pack a bag right then and there. He couldn't stay here. Not if this was to be his life. Tears were streaming down his face at the violation. Tommy was just standing to the side, looking at him like he was a petulant child.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Leaving! Like I should have done in the first place."

"And where the hell are you going to go? A runaway omega with no skills, probably with a pup on the way?"

Steve froze and Tommy grinned, advancing on him from behind. He put his chin on Steve's shoulder and the omega whirled around, trying to put space between them.

"I went in deep last night. I kept you knotted and filled. I know it took. You leave now and you'll have no one to help you with our son."

Steve put a hand to his stomach. He didn't want to imagine trying to make his way and raise a child at the same time. No one would want to take him in, an omega with nothing to his name.

"What would you even do anyway? You've got no skills to speak of. Unless you want to be hired based on your bedroom skills."

Steve was too stunned to speak. He hated agreeing to Tommy, so he stormed out. But out just meant out into another part of the Hagan estate. Just another wing of this gilded cage.

Months passed and Steve's belly grew and he didn't know whether or not he hoped this pup was Eddie's. If there was any doubt about it being Tommy's they might give it away, or worse. It wasn't supposed to be like this. His first child was to be met with nothing but glee in a land as big as their dreams. But now he was dreading every development.

Even as he went into labor, it felt like it was happening to someone else. It wasn't until the baby was in his arms, that he realized what he had to do. Regardless of the true parentage, this child deserved all the love in the world. And considering how Tommy was, it would all have to come from Steve. He gave birth to a beautiful girl, so he was able to escape Tommy trying to name their first child after himself.

And so she was christened Octavia Hagan. And Steve worked his hardest to do right by her. It was never easy, not when his heart was a thousand miles away. But by the time she was two, Steve was sure of it. The big brown eyes and the light curl to her hair was enough proof. She was Eddie's. But it was also just enough to deny any accusations that might come his way, not that there was any.

Steve scrounged what he could and hid the money in a bookcase in Octavia's nursery. He might not be able to guarantee her the best quality of life, but anything was worth freedom. And perhaps they might even find Eddie one day. It was this that had Steve holding out hope.

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

It took five years, but Eddie returned. he was dressed in clothes much finer than he'd left in, disembarking a vessel in which he had voyaged in first class. Being a musician that sold out venues had its perks. He held the marriage announcement that had come to the shores years ago. The marriage of Thomas and Stephen Munson, nee Harrington, and then later the birth announcement.

Eddie was here to make good on a promise.

Steve was none the wiser. All he knew was that Tommy was taking him out to see a famed violinist Edgar Wainson for his final night before the man took his show to Paris. Tommy was only going for appearances. His opinion on culture was whatever everyone else thought.

Steve had an appreciation for it, remembering how Eddie would play his fiddle both when they were alone and to earn some extra coin on streets and in taverns. He instilled it in Octavia as well, teaching her piano and allowing her to toss some coins to the street musicians they passed when Tommy wasn't around to scold them about it.

So he brought her along. Where he went, his pup went. Even now, Steve thought if he took his eyes off her for too long, something bad would happen.

The show started and the violinist took the stage and Steve's jaw dropped. Like a man possessed, he stood from his seat, then went into the aisle. Eddie's playing slowed as he watched someone approach. He stopped altogether when he saw who it was. He ignored the gasps as he dropped the violin and jumped off the stage to meet Steve who had broke into a run to meet him.

"I'm sorry!", Steve exclaimed the moment their arms went around each other. "I'm sorry I wasn't there I was-"

"I know, I know my love. I'm sorry I wasn't back sooner I was-"

"I know. God in Heaven Eddie, I know. But you're here now."

"And I'm never letting you go", Eddie promised, kissing him so hard, Steve thought his lips might be bruised, but he didn't care.

"GET OFF!!", Tommy bellowed, struggling through the row of people to get to them.

Unbidden thanks to her smile size and thought to go around the other way where there were less people, Octavia ran up to them, grabbing at Steve's pant leg.

"Mother?"

"Oh, a little one?", Eddie looked down, clearing his throat.

Steve whispered in Eddie's ear. "Your little one."

Eddie's eyes got big as he looked back and forth between Steve and Octavia. He felt something swell in his chest.

"I'll see you hanged for this, you vagrant!", Tommy yelled, finally at them.

Eddie's eyes narrowed. He could only imagine what he'd put Steve through if he was still like this. He still had a promise to make good on.

"Stevie, my muse, my light, there is a vow I still intend to keep."

"Eddie...."

The was murmuring from the audience, unsure of what to make of any of this. It was certainly an odd night at the concert hall. Eddie held Steve's hands, then got down on his knees.

"Runaway with me. Tonight, right now, both of you."

They hadn't packed or prepared anything. There was hardly any money on him and wherever they went, there was sure to be a chase, at least for a while. It wouldn't be easy, but Steve had already missed his chance once. He wouldn't miss it again.

"On your feet", he ordered. "You've got to get me to an altar."

Tommy's protests were unheard, even as he chased after the three of them. Eddie took the first carriage they saw, barreling down the road. Steve was surprised when they came upon the Hagan home. But Eddie told him he wouldn't let Steve leave without taking anything important. He wanted a moment to assure Eddie that he was the most important thing, but Tommy would be hot on their heels the moment he got a carriage. Hopefully the confusion of the headliner running off would give them time.

Steve got things for both himself and Octavia, including directing her on where to find his stash of money. They then went right to the docks, finding a boat that was shoving off that night.

"Where are you headed?", Eddie asked.

"Spain", was the answer.

"Perfect", Steve said, giving enough money for all three and also to expedite the departure.

Tommy would either be expecting France or the Americas. Only when they were settled below deck and the shore was a tiny dot in the dark did Steve's nerves settle. Octavia was pressed to his side and he kissed the top of her head. It was probably even more of a whirlwind for her, running off with this man she had never met. Time to change that.

"Sweetheart, this is Eddie. In truth, he is your real father."

"Pleasure to meet you madame", Eddie gave a sweeping bow, making her giggle.

"Are we all going to live together now?", she asked.

"Til the end of our days", Eddie promised.

"What about father?", she asked Steve, referring to Tommy.

"God willing, we'll never see him again."

It took them the whole night, plus a day and a half to get to Spain. The sun was setting, but they managed to find a church. They were wary of how they might be received, but the man who saw to them had a milky eye with a scar over it, so he must've had a well lived life. Octavia was their very willing witness, and so they were wed in a port town that they didn't know the name of.

"Well, it took longer than we planned, but we're finally starting our lives together", Eddie said as they settled in the beds of an inn. Octavia was already deep in her own slumber in her own cot.

Eddie was laying in bed ready to snuff out the light as Steve got in next to him. When he did, only the moon from the window lit their features. Steve grabbed Eddie's face and pulled him in for a kiss. One that was slow and deep as his hand started drifting down.

"Here?", Eddie whispered, apprehensive but doing nothing to stop him. He glanced at the child on the other side of the room.

"She sleeps like the dead. Besides, you owe me a wedding night."

#did yall catch the wayne-son in there?#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #a/b/o #omegaverse

67 notes · View notes

magics-neptunes-things · 3 hours

Text

Love Sometimes Takes Time

Hi guys :)

This is from a request that you can find here :)

The sentences in italic are saying in Spanish.

I haven't proofread it because I'm lazy today. But please enjoy!

TW : Maybe a little angst? Jealousy.

Leila has always been a benchmark in your life. When you arrive in Barça from Levante, she was there, and she was one of the most inclusive people in the team. She was less impressive than Alexia and a little more expensive than Mapi. When you arrive from the U23 in your national team, Leila was already there too. It was natural for you to follow her and almost stick with her at this time. She was your friend, and you get along pretty well.

You were friends, only friends, but you have to admit that watching her leave the national team and Barcelona to go to Manchester was hard. She was your other half at work, even if it was only a friendly relationship, you missed her dearly. You had other friends, like Mariona or Alexia, but even if they have their eyes on you, they weren’t Leila.

It was when you were in Australia for the World Cup that your agent called you to let you know that Barcelona wasn’t interested in extending your contract. It was a little shock honestly, you had great results, but your agent explains to you that they prefer to save money for next year, when a lot of contracts well be negotiated.

You were with Ona when you received the call, and she was very uncomfortable. She just signed in Barcelona and were coming back home, but you knew it wasn’t her fault. Your agent told you that he as some of clubs who were interested in you, but you needed to digest the new.

You were devasted when you call Leila that night.

“At least you have other clubs who are interested in you” Leila said.

You shrugged. You didn’t know which one are on the list and how much. Leila wasn’t with you because of the Vilda’s story, but you never wanted her to be with you as much as right now. Being far away from her is hard, and you went several times in Manchester to see her. And her girlfriend. Because Leila has a girlfriend now. A beautiful, funny, cute, and friendly girlfriend. You can’t hate her, but you realize too how less Leila was touching with you. No hugs, no kiss on the cheek or cuddle while talking before falling asleep.

Which was perfectly normal. She has a girlfriend. You don’t even know why you reacted that way.

“My agent just sends me the teams who are interested” you mumble to Leila when your phone vibrate.

“Look at it!” she says happily.

You roll your eyes but open the message anyway, frowning while you read aloud the name of the different clubs.

“Real Madrid…”

“Yurk” Leila mumbles.

“… Wölfburg…”

“There is no way that you go to play for them.”

“… Kansas City and Manchester City.”

If Leila only made a grimace when you mention somewhere in the USA, her face light up when she hears Manchester City. You don’t know how to feel yet. You don’t know if you will be ok to be faced to Leila and her girlfriend every day.

“Manchester City is a good option” she smirked.

“I don’t know. Real Madrid too, at least I’ll stay in Spain.”

“You think you will be able to play against the girls who were your teammates for so long?”

“No” you admitted, sighing.

That’s how you finished in the blue side of Manchester, the right one Lucy said to you when you say goodbye to them. Leila and her girlfriend helped you settle down in your new flat, with Laia Aleixandri too. Thanks God she was here.

The girls welcomed you with happiness and you get along great with Mary and Kerstin. But you usually pass your time with Leila and Laila, having a little trouble to speak English at first. And then you just get used to it. You had a lot of time to think about why you always have a knot in your stomach when you are with Leila and her girlfriend. It isn’t as hard when you are with Leila without her girlfriend.

You feels like Laia understood or realized something, but the sweet girl never said anything to you. And you’re sure that she never said anything to Leila too.

********

You jump when your phone rings, feeling like you hadn’t sleep at all. Groaning, you roll on your side to turn your alarm off. That’s when you realize that it’s four in the morning and that it wasn’t your alarm who was ringing but that Leila is trying to call you.

“Leila?” you groan with a hoarse voice.

“Are you home?”

“Yes. What’s happening, are you alright?”

“I’m in front of your door… Can you open to me?”

Several minutes later, Leila is laying on your bed next to you. She’s fully dressed and after looking at her to be sure that she wasn’t hurt physically, you drag her in your bedroom. You went right under the cover, your body shivering because of the cold.

“What’s happening?” you ask again.

You are on your side, looking at Leila who is watching the ceiling, on her back. She looks tired to be honest, and maybe a little stressed? Anyway, something is wrong. You don’t come to your friend’s house at 4 in the morning without a good reason.

“Ash and I broke up” she mumbles without looking at you.

“What? Why?”

She came this weekend to the game, and everything looks fine at this point. They were smiling at each other, laughing and Leila hugged her so tight that you wonder how that poor girl could still breath.

“I don’t know. We had a stupid argument and everything like it all fell down.”

“Just because of an argument?” you raise an eyebrow.

Leila sighs and nod, still looking at the ceiling of your room.

“You will go back together.”

Leila doesn’t answer at this, and you don’t say anything else. You are tired and trying to be a good friend for her right now is hard for you. You are kind of sick about your strange feelings about Leila and her girlfriend. With time you realize that it’s maybe something more than friendship that you feel for her. And that pissed you off, because there is no way that Leila can see you like this.

You were on edge for days before having a break down when Laia casually asked you want was happening to you. Your friend wasn’t able to understand what you were saying, but after some minutes she could finally put the pieces together. She held you against her, stroking your back and promised you to never talk about it to Leila.

********

Leila and Ash get together again some days after and you snort when Leila told you. You received a slap on the head for an answer. It doesn’t last long, however, since two weeks later Leila announced to you their definitive breakup.

You were kind of avoiding her during those two weeks to be honest, passing almost all your time with Laia, Mary or Kerstin. The latter stayed sometimes to sleep at your flat after one of the team’s bonding. You didn’t realize Leila’s annoyed gaze, but Laia did. She didn’t say anything to anyone (except her boyfriend) for now though. She’s here to hear you but she isn’t the kind of girl who will try to interfere in someone else’s life.

She kept looking at both of you and she doesn’t know how much she will need to look at you tonight though.

You are with some of the girls out for a night and some of their close friends too. Your friends being only in the team, you don’t know a lot of people here so it’s always great for you to meet someone new.

“Chica!” Kerstin says happily when she sits next to you in the booth.

You were talking with Leila, Alanna, Laia and her boyfriend when Kerstin comes to sit next to you. Leila takes on herself not to roll her eyes, being grumpy almost every time you interact with Kerstin. But she will be even more after hearing Kerstin’s next sentence.

“My girlfriend takes some friends with her. And I need to introduce you to someone.”

“Who?” you frown.

You follow with her eyes the direction she shows you. Kerstin is pointing a girl some meters from you, who you assume is a friend of Kerstin’s girlfriend. While you look at her, your friend start to talk again.

“This is Mila. She’s half English and half Spanish, she speaks both languages fluently.”

“She does?” you ask with a smile.

Your English went way better since you start to leave in Manchester, but you sometimes find it tiring to always have to talk in another language than your first. Kerstin smiles wider and nod.

“She’s a football’s fan, she loves to play video games. She’s super gay and kind of fancy you. I really think that I found you the love of your life.”

You laugh softly hearing your friend’s excitement. You have to say that she’s pretty and the smile she gives you when she spots you looking at her is very beautiful. But she’s not Leila.

You cross Laia’s eyes and she smiles at you.

“Try it, what do you have to lose?”

She’s right. You don’t see that next to her, Leila is fuming because you just take your eyes on Mila again.

“I don’t know how to flirt with someone” you mumble, blushing horribly.

“No one ask you to flirt. Just try to know the girl.” Kerstin points.

“Or you don’t have to go to her if you don’t want to” Leila snaps.

It made you look at her and you frown slightly. You don’t understand Leila’s mood, she was laughing some minutes ago, listening to Moise’s stories.

“Nah, she wants to go” Kerstin says and before you can answer anything, she takes you by the arm to follow her.

You don’t hear Leila’s obscenities and don’t see the strange looks of your friends around her. Kerstin makes the presentation between you and Mila, and you have to admit that she’s right. You and she get along pretty well honestly. You talk, laugh and dance with her a lot during the evening. When you both got tired, she proposed to take you home, but you hesitate at first. It’s only when she assures you that she just wants to spend more time with you and that she will leave you in front of your door that you accept.

It doesn’t stop her from putting her arm around your shoulders when you both leave the nightclub. And that’s the last image that Leila got from you that night.

********

“So, is she a good kisser?”

“What?”

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize that Leila came next to you in the dressing room to change after training. You were still trying to avoid her to be honest, your heard her talking to Ash three days before on the phone and the knot on your stomach came back stronger than never.

“Mia, is she a good kisser?” Leila asks again.

“It’s Mila”

Her face is closed and there is not a little bit of teasing in her tone. You don’t understand where this comes from and that’s annoy you a little.

“Why are you asking that?” you frown.

But Leila shrugs for any answer. So you roll your eyes and finish to put your things in your bag.

“When are you seeing her again?” Leila asks several minutes after.

“We went to the cinema yesterday. We didn’t plan another date for now” you mumble.

Mila took you out already two times and you had fun the two times. It went well, she’s very attentive to your wants and needs. You definitively don’t have the famous sparkle when you think about her, but you are willing to try things with her if it makes you forget about Leila.

“Ow, that’s why you looked tired today. You didn’t sleep well last night? Shagging already?”

“Fuck off, Leila.”

Your snapping makes her jump. Even if you’ve argued a few times before, you’ve never spoken to her that way. You take your bag and storm out the changing room without adding another word. When Leila looks around the room, she realized that Kerstin and Laia were looking at you. And know at her. If Kerstin turn her gaze, Laia doesn’t.

“Que?” Leila growls to Laia.

But the blonde doesn’t flinch, still looking deeply at Leila. They are the only people talking Spanish in the room right now, so she doesn’t have any problem to tell Leila what she thinks.

“You’re an idiot. What are you expecting from her with this attitude?”

Leila doesn’t say anything, for once she doesn’t know what to answer. She knows she doesn’t have to talk to you like that and that you have all the right to be angry with her. But she can’t help it. But Laia is tired of your behavior.

“Leila you’re my friend and that’s because I will tell you that. She fancied you for years now, even while you were looking at your ex with dopey loving eyes. And now that she tries to move on, you’re acting like a dick. She doesn’t belong to you. Leave that poor girl alone or get your things together. She’s done nothing but being here for you no matter what. She deserves better that the way you treat her.”

Leila has red cheeks now, her body full of shame. She doesn’t look at Laia when she talks again.

“Is it too late?” Leila mumble.

“For what?”

“Trying something with her.”

Laia doesn’t answer directly, she looks at your friend several seconds instead.

“It’s not my place to answer that question” Laia finally answers. “But you better be serious about it Leila, or I’ll tell Alexia.”

Alexia has claimed the place of your mentor and protector when Leila left Barcelona and the national team. She’s still calling you two times a week and Leila knows that the blonde wouldn’t have a problem to beat her ass if she fucks up something with you.

********

You weren’t supposed to see Mila that night, but after Leila behavior with you, you decided that it would be a great way to change your ideas. Mila was happy to hear you and she proposed to go out to eat something, which you agreed with pleasure. The restaurant was fancy, but Mila was very relaxed, making you laugh when she imagines out loud the life of some of the people present in the restaurant too.

You drank a little too and you are a little tipsy when she takes you home. Your flat being in the heights of your building, you chose to take the lift. In fact, it’s the same flat where Ona lived during her time in Manchester, you just take her lease.

When you arrive at your door, you lean against the wall by your front door, looking at Mila. Despite Leila assumptions, you never kissed. But maybe tonight would be the night, it’s your third date after all. And you know that Mila isn’t against the idea, you just have to look at her to know it.

She approaches you until you are only a few inches apart.

“I really had a great night” she says, putting an arm right next to your face, against the wall.

“Me too” you simply answer.

You know what will happen before it does. When Mila leans to kiss you, the ring announcing to opening of the lift’s door sound in the floor.

“Y/N?”

You open your eyes and look over Mila’s shoulder to see who is calling you. You already recognized the voice, though.

Leila is looking at you with an uncertain face and you move mechanically to be further away from Mila. The latter holds a sigh of extreme accuracy and turns to Leila with a look full of reproaches. But Leila doesn’t see it, entirely focused on you.

“Are you ok?” you ask, looking at her.

“Can I talk to you?”

You bite your lips and report your attention on Mila. She shrugs and kisses your cheek softly and looks deep into your eyes before leaving.

“I call you later.”

You don’t know if it’s a promise for you or an advertisement for Leila, but you nod and smile at her.

“Drive safely.”

“I’ll sure do.”

You look at her going in the elevator and passes next to Leila, before turning your attention back on the Spaniard. You look at her for several seconds before talking.

“Come on in”

You let her in her flat before you and close the door. Leila already made her way in your living room, turning the lights on.

“Que passa?”

“I wanted to apologize for today. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

You shrug, not really knowing what to answer to that. If she knows she was an ass, it’s already that right? You are sad about the turn in your relationship though, you and her had always get along great and you feel like it isn’t the same anymore.

“I hate what we became” you mumble. “I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

You shrug one more time. You don’t want to cry but you know that if you look at her, it will happen.

“Hey.”

Just like Mila earlier, Leila approaches you and is only a few centimeters away from you. But it doesn’t seem strange or intimidating with her, it seems normal and comforting. Leila raises her hand to get your hair out of your face and probably get a better view of you.

“I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did, it was so wrong of me. Can I make it up to you? Please.”

“How?” you ask, frowning.

You swear that Leila looked at your lips for a second, before shrugging. You are still close like before, so you can perfectly read her eyes.

“Maybe we can go out, like only the both of us?”

You can’t answer because your phone rings on your pocket and you are pretty sure that it’s Mila. You take your phone almost without thinking to have the confirmation that it’s indeed Mila. She sent you a message and when you are watching, another one is coming.

Mila I had a really great night with you, you’re amazing ♥ I can’t wait to see you again 😉

Leila read the texts at the same time as you are, and you can feel her body tensed. You already noticed that she doesn’t like your pretender, you just don’t know why. Her jaw is so tight that you are scared that some of her teeth will just break.

“What’s up?” you frown.

“I can’t stand her” Leila answers sour toned.

“She’s very sweet and caring though. And funny.”

Leila snorts and starts to walk around in your living room while your put your phone back on your pocket. You’ll answer those texts later, when Leila will be gone.

“You’re wasting your time” Leila finally says.

“Why are you saying that?” you ask, frowning even more.

“Because you don’t belong with her!”

Leila is almost shouting now, forgetting her promise to Laia to keep it cool. She’s angry but not against you, but against herself for the time she lost. And for the reason that she maybe lost any chance with you. Well, she might be angry against Mila, too.

“So, who do I belong with Leila? I have no one else, that girl is sweet and caring, she’s funny, she’s beautiful and very interested in me. And I’m…”

“With me!” Leila cuts you with a strong voice, before adding in an almost defeat tone “You belong with me.”

You are shocked. So shocked that you can’t make a move or even think for now. What the hell is she talking about?

“Seeing you with her made me realize what I should have a very long time ago. I know it’s maybe hypocritical because I had other girls before, but I can’t stand the fact that someone else is kissing you or even touching you. That should be me, no one else.”

She’s looking at you, waiting for your answer. But you, you are looking at her, wanting to be sure that she isn’t joking or messing with you. You just have to take a look in her eyes to know it.

“It’s better not being your ego talking Leila, because I swear…” you whisper.

“It’s not”

She comes close to you again, like really close to you and put her hand on your arm. Like this, you can see all the details of her pretty face.

“I really want to kiss you” she whispers.

You don’t answer, but you lean slightly in her direction, and she get the message almost immediately. She closes the gap between you both, kissing you so softly at first that you wonder if your lips are really touching. But when she’s sure that you’re not going to back away, she gains confidence and passes her arms around you to kiss you harder.

You will have to talk a lot about all of this, but for now you only want to enjoy the moment. Having Leila for you like that is unreal and you want to engrave this memory in your mind for ever.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #leila ouahabi #leila ouahabi imagine #leila ouahabi x reader

85 notes · View notes

interloved · 3 days

Note

can u write a smut where rick dies in his world and then ends up in ours? reader is a singer and dancer, and to help him readjust she hires him as her bodyguard and as the time passes things finally get smutty and tall that shit 😓😓😓 and can you do reader timid, quiet and really girlie pretty pleaseee 💓

oh my god i love this ahh (i live for twd modern!au’s)!! took the freedom to change up some parts, so it’s a bit different than what you asked for but i hope you like this :)

also i’m kinda planning on making this a multi-series. this idea is too good to make it a one-shot<333

innocent actress!reader X possesive bodyguard!rick grimes (modern!au)

part 01

description box: rick grimes is a man who knows what he wants, and he wants you. and he may not be able to tell the world, but he damn sure can show them.

warnings: nsfw warning, porn with plot, minors dni!!, mostly smut, use of nicknames like ‘doll’ and ‘pretty girl’, rick is a little bit insane hahah (but when was he ever not), sub & dom dynamic

innocent actress!reader X possessive bodyguard!rick grimes

(modern!au)

RICK GRIMES DOESN’T REALLY LIKE the way that interviewer is looking at you. his eyes are trailing up and down your small frame too frequently for his liking and he doesn’t like his eyes dipping down to your lips every two seconds or so.

what’s bothering him even more is how you won’t notice—won’t notice the way this interviewer licks his lips, won’t notice his eyes dropping to your chest, won’t notice his flirty little remarks.

“cut the cameras,” he orders frostily, and one of the camera men straightens himself, ready to protest, but rick grimes is an intimidating man. one chilly glance is enough to shut the camera man up and he grumbles something unfriendly under his breath as he tells his team to shut down the cameras.

you flash him a questioning look. god, look at you. so naive, rick thinks, so fucking naive.

this is one of the reasons you hired rick—he was tall, intimidating and strong. another reason was his handsomeness. you never really liked the suffocating fame that came with it nor the cameras that were glued to your back every second, but don’t get it wrong !! you love acting, but your famousness tends to overwhelm you sometimes, so you thought hiring a handsome bodyguard might off take a little bit of the constant attention and pressure you were getting.

rick had to admit that when he was hired, he first thought it was a joke. it seemed that all you needed him for was opening water bottles and cans, carrying your bags while going on shopping sprees with you—which necklace suited you better, the silver one or the golden one?

you were so sweet. so polite and sensitive. oddly naive. rick reckoned this was all an act for publicity, maybe the reputation and image of yourself you were trying to create, but after being your bodyguard for about two years, he knew this wasn’t the case. the sheltered upbringing you received thanks to your protective parents was partly the reason for your sheer innocence, but he’d noticed that people tended to become soft around you.

he didn’t like to admit it, but he too had become soft around you. grown fond of you. some might say affectionate, even. who else would tolerate the silly tantrums you threw; who else would go on (forced) ice cream dates with you; who else would roll their eyes but still entertain you like this?

but he knows you’ve grown fond of him, too. you depended on him so much, looked to him first for every little problem you encountered, valued his opinion the most. he was the first person you thought of calling when someone on a show announced you the greatest actress of the century.

“what’s going on, mr grimes?” you blink at him, as clueless and oblivious as ever. it’s a little adorable, rick guesses.

even though rick’s told you not to call him mr grimes multiple times, you never seem to remember. you’re shy, you wouldn’t dare calling him by his first name. rick knows that, but he can’t help but sigh inwardly every time he hears you call out for him as ‘mr grimes!’.

“what’s your name?” he asks the interviewer, southern drawl all too present and piercing, icy eyes staring him down as he chose to ignore your question for the time being.

the interviewer lifts an eyebrow. “me? i’m mark. mark millers.”

“huh,” rick nods, clicking his tongue, “mark.”

his voice is cold, but again, he is always; distant, taciturn. celebrity newspapers called you and him “the sweet angel and her brooding shadow” once. rick thinks it’s stupid but you thought it was so cool you once made him wear a couple’s costume, with you dressing up as an angel and him as.. he supposes he was supposed to be a shadow, but it turned into some kind of devil instead.

“well, that was all i wanted to know.” rick waves his hand, signalling the camera team to continue, “was just curious.”

he was, in fact, not just curious. after the interview, he would ask around, about this.. mark. mark would find himself in court, weeks later, on a sexual assault charge.

rick may be bad at emotions, but he knows he doesn’t like it when someone touches what is his.

and unfortunately for mark, he also has enough power to destroy his life.

YOU WEREN’T SURE HOW YOU managed to get yourself into this position.

“are you mad at me?” you ask quietly. rick and you were sitting in the limousine that was supposed to take you home.

ever since that interview, rick’s been oddly quiety. well, he always has been taciturn but never this.. silent.

rick sighs, “no, ‘m not mad at you, doll.”

you stare at him. “then why’re you frowning?”

“‘m not frowning.”

“oh but yes, you are!” you protest with crossed arms; “if it’s not me who you’re mad at, then who..?”

your eyes widen, “you’re not angry because of mark, are you?”

rick tenses up, and gives you a look you can’t really place. you couldn’t help but laugh, rick angry at an interviewer was a scenario that was so strange and unfamiliar to you that you just couldn’t stop laughing. it was hilarious, really.

“quit laughin’, i’m serious. he rubs me the wrong way.” rick adds grumpily.

you chuckle, patting his thigh, “everyone rubs you the wrong way, rick—”

you cut yourself off when you notice his eyes staring at your hand. on his thigh. you quickly withdraw your hand, you know rick doesn’t like being touched. the only kind of physical contact (that also you initiated) was a hug from him that you’d only gotten because you had received your first award.

“oh, ‘m sorry, i know that lori—”

“it’s fine,” he cuts you off before you can finish your sentence and looks out of the window, “lori and i… are havin’ some problems.”

“what? why? are you OK? what’s going on?”

rick almost smiles at the obvious worry in your voice, he thinks it’s adorable how much you care. even though he’s just your employee.

“don’t worry bout it,” he drawls and leans back, lips pulled up in a lazy smile.

part two coming soon!!

#rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #rick smut #rick grimes x oc #rick grimes twd #rick grimes the walking dead #rick grimes drabble #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes #the walking dead smut #the walking dead #twd #twd smut #twd rick #twd rick grimes

92 notes · View notes

anonymous-dentist · 1 day

Text

Part Five of the Catboy in the Village AU

Parts: One | Two | Three | Four

Before Cellbit can start any kind of investigation, he passes out from hunger. (Four days without eating will do that, he supposes...)

It's sort of just... quick. He's sitting up in bed so Roier can braid his hair, and then his head and eyes are all fuzzy, and then he's in a different bed with no Roier and with an absolutely killer migraine.

He groans and rolls onto his side and pulls his blanket over his head, because he knows that there's somebody watching him. He can feel their (her) eyes on him, and they're making him feel even more sick than he already feels.

"You're an idiot," the queen declares.

Cellbit just hisses at her. She doesn't deserve his words.

He can practically hear her eye roll. Wood creaks from next to his bed, footsteps clicking against the cold stone floor, and then a light 'creeeeak' as a cabinet is opened on the far side of the room. Grumbling from the queen- insults, mostly. Clinks and clatters as she searches for something.

Cellbit's stomach twists and groans from hunger. Gods, what he'd give to be in his kitchen right now with Roier making dinner less than an arm's length away from him. Smoke in Cellbit's lungs, flavor already burning his tongue, fresh bread from the bakery across the street in front of him as an appetizer.

"There's soup on the table next to you," the queen says.

But it isn't Roier's soup, is the thing. It's probably poisoned. Or, worse, it's gross. Not enough meat, probably. Possibly even vegan, eugh.

How would the queen react if Cellbit told her that he only eats dishes with human flesh cooked into them? Would that be enough for her to send him home?

...Probably not, considering she seemed more upset about him being bad at escaping prison than him actually being in prison in the first place. That opens a whole bag of worms in itself, because how in the world does the queen know about Alcatraz when Cellbit's own in-laws don't? How long has she been stalking him for?

"If you need something lighter, I can have the kitchens send up some bread or crackers," the queen continues.

"I'm not hungry," Cellbit grumbles.

He's gone for longer than four days without food. During the war, it wasn't until Bad picked him up and taught him what his claws and fangs were good for that Cellbit started having dinner more than once a week. When he was put in solitary confinement in prison, he wasn't given food at all, and he was in that cell for at least five days at a time.

He's gone for longer than four days, so it has to be something in the castle that has made Cellbit so weak. Maybe it's something in the air, some kind of magic the queen is employing to try and break him down. The bed sheets might be laced with sickness runes. The guards constantly following Cellbit and Roier around might be warlocks in league with whatever demon is haunting the castle.

"Right," the queen sarcastically says. "You're not hungry. You just passed out after not eating for four days for no reason."

Cellbit bristles so literally that his ears tent the blanket above his head. He grits his teeth together and, not for the first time, he wishes that he still had his claws.

"Exactly," he grits out. He flexes his fingers, pretending the air he's scratching is the queen's stupid (identical) face. "So. Leave."

"I'm good, actually," the queen lightly responds. She sounds beyond pissed off, but she also sounds as calm as can be expected of royalty. Ugh. "I'm going to order some bread for you in just a moment."

Cellbit's ear twitches. "No."

"You're an alchemist, yes? You know what happens when you take a potion on an empty stomach. This might be the healer's quarters, but I will not have you throwing up all over her floor."

Cellbit pulls a bit of his blanket over and away from one of his eyes so he can glare at the queen properly.

"I'm not going to throw up," he scoffs. Who does she think he is?

Now that he can see the queen, he's even more annoyed. More than that, though, he's confused because... why? Why is she here? What kind of warden pays this much attention to their prisoner?

She's rooting through a large wooden cupboard filled with things Cellbit recognizes from his own supplies back home: healing potions, powdered unicorn's horn, phoenix feather, faerie dust.

"When you passed out, you hit your head pretty hard on one of your bedposts," the queen explains, ignoring him entirely. "Your husband has requested that you be given something to help with your pain, and you know that you can't take that without something in your stomach. Stop being stubborn."

"I'm not being stubborn," Cellbit huffs. "And I'm not in pain. So."

He isn't lying; he feels just fine. The only thing hurting is his stomach, and that's normal with starvation. He's more than used to the feeling by now.

"So you're going to take one dose of this potion to make your husband happy."

Oh, and now she's blackmailing him with Roier's emotions. Great.

Unfortunately for the queen, Cellbit knows his husband well enough to know that, if Roier wanted him to take a potion, he would be in the room force-feeding it to him himself. He wouldn't have Cellbit's current number one worst enemy try and do it, he isn't that cruel.

...Now that Cellbit thinks of it, where is Roier?

A bolt of panic grips Cellbit around his heart and he sits up in a flash, blanket flying off of him as his entire body tenses. His ears stick up on end, straining for any sign of Roier. Nothing.

"Where is he?" Cellbit demands.

He looks around the room and sees absolutely nothing that he can use as a weapon. Great. It's fine. It's fine! He can just-

Cellbit's vision swims, and he feels himself tipping to the side and off of the bed. The queen shouts, but he can't hear whatever she says over the sound of nothingness as he loses consciousness for the second time that day.

It takes much less time for him to wake up this time. He's up and trying to get to his feet within seconds of hitting the floor, his ears flat against his head and his eyes wide with panic as he fully decides that the queen may have, in fact, killed Roier. She had Cellbit drugged and she had Roier killed and now she's going to keep Cellbit in a much worse cell and she's going to torture him until he agrees that he's her brother and-

He's shocked back to reality as a blanket is dropped over his head from above. What?

"Roier is fine," the queen gently says. She's above him now, too- on the bed, probably, why? Is she trying to smother him? "He's the one who brought you here. He and the healer went to get some ice from the kitchens. She was going to go by herself, but he wanted to make sure she wouldn't try and poison you."

What a hero. Of course Roier would worry about the ice being poisoned, he and Cellbit both know a hundred ways to poison someone. It's hard not to know how to poison people in the potion business.

...But she's lying. The queen is lying. She hasn't told Cellbit the truth once since she first barged into his store.

...But the blanket over Cellbit's head is really heavy. Was it this heavy before? No, right?

Cellbit kneads his fingers into the knees of his trousers. He twists his wedding ring around his finger. His nose twitches. His lungs hurt.

"Still works," the queen mutters. What does that mean?

A few short, yet excruciatingly-long, moments of blanket and panic later, the door to the room slams open, and a pair of beautifully-familiar boots thud towards Cellbit. A second later, the blanket is ripped off of his head, and there's Roier holding a bowl of ice and looking so handsomely concerned.

"Gatinho..." he breathes.

And then he scowls and plops onto the ground in front of Cellbit, cross-legged. He puts the bowl down on his lap, leans forward, and grabs Cellbit by the face with both hands and squishes his cheeks together.

"I fucking told you to eat!" he shouts, only halfway angry. He squishes Cellbit's cheeks harder. "And now you are on the floor. Why are you on the floor, eh?"

"He fell," the queen responds. She's still on the bed, cross-legged herself, with her chin resting against her fist. "He wanted to search for you."

Roier 'awww's once before gently shaking Cellbit's head back and forth.

"What have I told you?" he scolds. "I'll always come back for you. Even when I die, I'll just haunt you as a sexy ghost. I'm not letting any stupid queen get rid of me?"

"Hey!" the queen protests.

Cellbit smiles, though, and he reaches up to place his hands over Roier's.

"Desculpe, guapito," he says.

Roier smiles back, his anger slowly fading from his face.

"Your forehead is all purple," he tells Cellbit. "Come here..."

He takes the blanket off of the floor and wraps it around a handful of ice cubes. It's a lumpy cold mess, but it's sweet, so Cellbit doesn't complain too much as Roier softly presses the makeshift ice pack against Cellbit's forehead.

Cellbit leans into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. He bites back a happy little purr. (Not in front of the queen...!)

Someone else walks into the room, but Cellbit couldn't care less about them. They have to be the healer, but there's nothing wrong with him. Nothing he can't fix himself with the right ingredients, anyway.

He cracks an eye open and glares up at the queen, who looks... thoughtful. Uh-oh.

"I'm not taking the potion," he tells her. "I don't drink anything I don't make myself."

The queen shrugs. "That's fine, then. There's a cauldron on the other side of the room. Right, Niki?"

She looks over her shoulder, and Cellbit can just barely make out a head of pink hair. Must be 'Niki', then. The healer.

"That's right!" the healer agrees. "You can use what you want! It's all in here somewhere!"

Roier leans in close and whispers, "That's Niki. She talks a lot about empanadas."

Cellbit's stomach grumbles at the mention of food, and he groans.

"Please don't mention food right now," he sighs, voice low.

"Mmm, or I can, and you'll eat something and we can go back to our room," Roier hums. He tenderly strokes Cellbit's cheek. "I'm in the mood for empanadas right now, actually. Ah, or mixiotes... or gorditas..."

Cellbit slumps forward against Roier's shoulder, bringing the ice with him.

"Guapito, please..." he whines.

"If you're hungry, I can have any of that made for you," the queen offers.

A growl bubbles up from Cellbit's throat, but Roier covers it up with a loud, "Ah! But how do we know you won't put poison in it, hmm?"

"Because I wouldn't poison my brother or my brother-in-law? That would be ridiculous!"

"Mhmm. But how can we be sure?"

"Let Roier cook for the both of us," Cellbit says. "That way, we know for sure that it'll be safe."

A beat. And then:

"Are you being serious right now?" the queen demands. "That was why you wouldn't eat? Because your husband wasn't cooking it for you?"

Cellbit turns his head to glare up at her. "You would starve yourself, too, if you had to go from his cooking to someone else's. His food is perfect. He could be a professional, you know."

The queen looks absolutely shocked. Positively bewildered. Confused beyond all belief. Angry, too. Annoyed.

"You are. Ridiculous," she stammers out. "But... fine. Yes! You should have just asked from the beginning! Oh my gods! You should have asked!"

She continues ranting about how silly Cellbit is for not trusting her despite them literally being family, which is absolutely ridiculous because, A, they aren't family, and, B, she literally knocked him out and kidnapped him and his husband and is holding them both captive.

But Cellbit doesn't listen. Instead, he thinks. Once he's back on his feet, he can actually start investigating. And then? He and Roier can go.

His stomach grumbles again; Roier giggles and pokes at Cellbit's belly and starts listing out potential dinner options in order of Cellbit's favorites to his least favorites.

...But first, dinner.

Finally.

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#catboy in the village au #was gonna write something else but then i decided i wanted them to Talk a little #fun fact: ba gi knows the blanket trick because it used to calm cell down when he was a kid #and it still works now #even though he himself doesn't know how or why it works #because he hasn't done it since he was a kid and he doesn't remember being a kid

82 notes · View notes

boliv-jenta · 14 hours

Text

I set myself a task to get back into writing. I wrote a list of Pedro Boys and I had to jot down an idea about each.

Here are Eddie, Pero, Dave and Reed.

Unsurprisingly, they are all smutty.

@withhertopdown ,this is what I was talking about.

Eddie

Baby vamps are much like baby humans. They need to be cared for until they can stand on their own two feet. They need protection from the world to survive their early days. They also need to feed what seems like all the damn time.

Babies weren't your thing when you were alive and Baby Vamps aren't your thing in your afterlife. Eddie is the exception. You found him chasing rats in an alley a few nights. Half starved and near rabid. When he saw you he tried to hide. He was ashamed, both of his hunger and how he was trying to satisfy it.

“I'm sorry.” he mumbled as you coaxed him out.

He crawled out all brown doe eyes and broad shoulders. Taking pity on him, you bit open your wrist and let him feed. The noises out of him lit up your spine like a trail of gasoline. He moaned and whined while he took his fill. The noises crescendoed in a drawn out groan and another mumbled apology against your skin. Only when he stepped back did you see the wet patch on his crotch.

That's when you decided that maybe one pretty, pathetic, whimpering Baby Vamp to pass on your experience too may not be so bad after all.

Pero

The man had grumbled in many languages until you had appeared from behind the screen. The guards had ordered him to wait there to be cleaned up.

“I'm sorry, Miss, I didn't think anyone was here.” He said earnestly. His English was pleasantly accented.

“I'm here to bathe you and cut your hair.” You informed him as a matter of fact.

“B-bathe me?” He stumbled over his words.

“Yes. Please undress and get into the tub. I will turn my back but you have nothing I haven't seen before.

Eventually Pero relaxed into your touch as you washed his broad shoulders. When he stepped out, you stood before him ready with a towel. When he was dry, he wrapped the towel around his waist and you guided him to sit. He hummed pleasantly as your fingers ran through his hair to chop away at it. When the unruly mop was down to a manageable length, you started on his beard. Your fingers stroke his surprisingly soft skin as some of it became exposed, like the patches on his strong jawline.

“There, just your body hair to do.” You kept your composure while he spluttered. “I do not have much chest hair.

The man nearly choked when you gestured to his towel covered area.

“It is their tradition here. You must take care of your body.”

Reluctantly, he dropped his towel. His thick cock sprung free, he must have been enjoying your attention. Dropping to you knees, you gently trimmer around the base of his erect member. Stopping every so often to blow away loose hair. The man hissed every time you did. His twitched and leaked torturously close to your face.

That night, when you came on your fingers, your head filled with all the images you had treated yourself to, you wondered if the man would even find out that you were only there to leave him towels and a razor.

Dave

“I can wait all night.” Dave assures you as he shifts his hips, pressing the fat head of his cock against the spot that makes you mewl for him.

A deep chuckle rumbles in his tanned, sweat soaked chest. "That's such a pretty sound but not the one I want to hear.”

His thick fingers walk from your hip where he had been holding you down moments ago as he split you roughly on his cock, across your stomach to the chain laying just above. A swift tug has the nipple clamps pinching you just right. As you arch up off the bed, Dave resumes his pounding. Dave is an expert interrogator, his methods in the bedroom may be different but they still yield results.

“I love you.” You finally confess as the rapid pummelling of your g-spot becomes too much. You clamp down on him as he allows himself to fill you, biting his lip to withhold a similar confession.

“That wasn't hard now, was it?” He says practically against your lips as he seizes the opportunity between your steading breaths to own your mouth with his own.

Reed

That was two months ago.

If you said that you hadn't mused about the sexual possibilities of Reed's powers before you met him, your pants would burst into flames. Handsome. Smart. A confident leader. Reed has a lot of attractive qualities. He also had a wife, until he didn't, and you wasted no time in declaring your interest in him.

Now, here you were, exploring some of the possibilities of his powers. Reed was shy to use them at first. He'd never used them in the bedroom before. His sex life with Sue was far from adventurous. Now, here he was, arms wrapped around the exposed ceiling beams of your rented cabin. Running back down to hold you in place as the two of you swung back and forth in the open-plan living room. Each rock shifting his cock to where you needed him most. The gentle swaying had you riding him in the most tantalising way. Giving him enough pleasure to slowly build an orgasm. Your pussy still ridiculously wet from where he had stretched his tongue to lick you from hole to clit at the same time until you'd come sobbing his name.

Tags:@kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie @faceache111 @elegantduckturtle @manazo @simpingcowboy @pedrit0-pascalit0 @yourcoolauntie @pedrostories @geekrenaissance @its-nebuleuse @sherala007 @vabeachazn

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #eddie btvs #dave york #pero tovar #reed richards #smut

38 notes · View notes

terephin · 3 days

Text

Howdy! I'm Flowey, Flowey the flower!

Anyways, I'm gonna ramble now. Introduction segment done.

So, Homura right? Homuhomu, Homegirl herself. She's a deeply broken girl.

I'm gonna talk about what I believe to be some of the why's, beyond just the looping itself.

Now, other than Madoka (A topic for an entirely different rant, honestly) and maybe Oriko (I mean, *gestures vaguely* look at the bitch, she's good at her job (Traumatizing Homosexuals)) I'd say a certain girl has hurt Homura more than anyone else.

Who?

Miki Sayaka. (Though you could argue Mami too) Now some might think this has to do with the general fragility of her mental state, but her witching out isn't what I'd say is the focus. It's the distrust.

Sayaka, despite how i usually see it passed over, was in the end one of Homura's first friends (Excluding maybe one or two people from before her surgery, but we haven't seen much implying Homu ever had friends before Madoka picked her up like a stray cat). Sayaka was, and is, someone who's opinion Homura values quite a bit, and her opinion of Homu herself hasn't exactly been good through much of the loops.

And here, I'd like to argue that this is a rather core hurt, part of turning Homura into who and what she is now. That rejection from someone who she knew as among the first to accept her, from one of her first friends.

Imagine, for a moment, the pain each time she was called evil, a monster, by that upbeat girl who was so strong and so brave. The girl that, if you ask me, looking back at Homu with the golfclub, she tried to model herself after.

It really is something I've seen quite a few fics forget, that Homura and Sayaka were friends in the beginning, that in the mind of the broken girl who doomed herself to never grow up they still are. (Sidenote : I've considered writing a snippet of Homura and Sayaka set in the Homurinth, or maybe in that world she made after her apotheosis, have them talk and have Sayaka mention that she came with in part to apologise, for all the hurtful words she'd spoken.)

Miki Sayaka is a brave, headstrong yet fragile girl, one that you can't help but admire, and I believe that Akemi Homura was swept up in that wave too. That, though they've both respectively forgotten and repressed the fact, Sayaka was an idol in the mind of that lost, lonely girl, a Hero amongst those who saved her. And perhaps that, too, is why Homura despises Sayaka's ambition to be such.

#puella magi madoka magica #pmmm #homura akemi #akemi homura #miki sayaka #sayaka miki #pmmm theory #pmmm headcanon #theorising #madoka magica #madoka ramblings

37 notes · View notes

kitas-cleaning-supplies · 2 days

Text

Kiyoomi scrunches her nose. She’ll never get Motoya’s obsession with plants. It was fine when it was just succulents, those are easy enough to take care of, but flowers fucking reek. It’s not a bad smell per say, but it’s stupidly strong in this shop, even with her mask up.

They’re pretty at least, she’ll give them that.

She’s debating between the pretty blue flowers and the silly, warm yellow ones. Motoya should have never trusted her judgment, how’s she supposed to resist the urge to tease her for always being in a yellow coloured team? At least Kiyoomi can say she’s escaped it in the Black Jackals cause gold isn’t yellow.

“Is there anythin’ I can help you with?” A pretty blonde girl in a red apron asks. Kiyoomi nearly jumps out of her skin, where’d she come from?

“Um, can I get these?” Kiyoomi points at the two, ready to bolt out of here because Employee Girl is way too gorgeous for her to not make a fool out of herself. Her palms are sweaty and she’s so grateful her mask is covering half her face.

The girl leans in way too close to Kiyoomi’s space and reads the labels, “Cornflower and fressia? I can put them together for you but d’you wanna check out the white freesia’s instead? They’d be real pretty together.”

“Yeah, sure.” Kiyoomi could be asked for her credit card information right now and she’d hand it over no questions asked. What did she ask her for again?

“Great, they’re over this way.” Employee Girl walks away and what else is Kiyoomi supposed to do but follow?

The flowers they stop at all look the same to Kiyoomi but she holds her breath as the girl talks about a few different ones, pointing them out and saying stuff about how pretty things look prettier together. Her name tag reads “Miya O.” A pretty name for a pretty girl. She wonders what the O stands for.

“That sound good?”

Kiyoomi nods, Miya’s voice sounds great in fact.

“Well you’re in luck! We finished our orders for today so I can put it together for ya right now but please submit a request a few days in advance next time. We’re pretty busy during the afternoon so ya picked a decent time to come in.”

Miya picks a few different flowers and the blue ones from before – the cornflowers – and heads to the back. Kiyoomi wants to protest but she’s just a customer and Miya’s an employee doing her job.

Miya peeps her head out after closing the door. She bites her lip before calling out, “Can I ask ya for a favour?”

“Uh, sure.”

“If ya see a girl with my face try an’ clock in, tell her she’s s’pposed to be in bed right now. My sister’s a bit of a workaholic, I stole her name tag this mornin’ for her own good.”

She assumes Miya means that she’s a twin but that’s not fair to her at all. She’s just a girl. Kiyoomi only hopes she won’t have to see the two of them together. One pretty girl’s bad enough for her heart as is.

The time passes by in a blur. At one point she’s keeping a vague eye out for Miya’s clone to walk in while looking at the different flowers; the next she’s being given her bouquet, paying for it, and waving bye to the prettiest girl in the world.

Oh well, it’s not like she’s the main character in a yuri manga.

Kiyoomi drops off the flowers at Motoya’s. She’s supposedly too busy taking care of her sick girlfriends to make the trip herself. Kiyoomi wonders if that excuse is just bullshit since it’s been months and she’s still not met Osamu and Rin yet. Unfortunately, Motoya’s apartment’s stuffy and reeks of sickness so maybe there’s some truth to Motoya’s words.

Maybe.

“You got the flowers?” Motoya closes her room door behind her, thankfully right before a loud sneeze is released by one of her definitely real girlfriends. Well there goes that bet Kiyoomi had going with Yachi.

“Yeah, I still don’t get why you can’t have a normal hobby. These things die in like, a week.”

Motoya fusses over the flowers for a bit, making them nice and pretty in a clean vase that held her last bouquet. “One, Samu gets all blushy when I give her flowers and two, I just like them. It’s low stakes responsibility that forces me to have my shit together.”

Kiyoomi snorts. Motoya’s always had her shit together, even if it looks like a mess on the outside. Her cousin is one of the most ruthlessly competent people she knows.

“Hey Kiyo, where’d you get these by the way?” Motoya asks cutting the store tag off a stem.

“Doesn’t it say there?” Kiyoomi asks. “Miya’s Boutique I think.”

“Well whichever employee rang you up left you a little something.” Motoya tosses the label to her with a smug little smirk.

Kiyoomi wants to shove her hand into her face to wipe it off but Motoya would lick her first and she doesn’t want to think about where her tongue’s been, sick partners or not.

She takes a look at the what Motoya meant and pretends like the name and numbers aren’t sending a rush of blood straight to her face. She carefully tucks it into a pocket while maintaining eye contact with her menace of a cousin. Motoya can smell the smallest twinge of embarrassment in a crowd and she is not to be trusted to mind her own business.

She laughs at nothing, like the airhead Kiyoomi’s always known her to be, but there’s something unsettling in the knowing glint in her eyes. Kiyoomi firmly ignores it: if it isn’t acknowledged, it isn’t real.

“Oh this is killing me, Kiyo you’ve gotta come over next week. Please I think I’ll die.” Motoya abandons her flowers in favour of hanging off of her arm and giving her stupid puppy eyes. “You can bring whoever left you their number. Actually, please bring them, you’ve gotta.”

Fuck, how’s Kiyoomi supposed to say no to her puppy eyes.

“Fine, but fat chance I bring her over.”

Motoya sniffs hautily, like Kiyoomi’s doing her a great disservice. “You’ll regret it.”

“Doubt it,” Kiyoomi sighs, hoping future-her doesn’t give in to Motoya’s ridiculous demands.

She leaves with a halfhearted wave, feeling preemptive disappointment in herself because she knows Motoya’s not going to let her go so easily. Whatever. She’s got better things to spend her energy on.

How many i's in a “hi” is too desperate to send?

#woaw i called atsumu pretty so many times. i had to replace a few w other words but you alr know femtsumu's the prettiesttt #anyways she's neither a msby member or an official employee of miya's boutique but a secret third thing !!#also she 100% lied abt orders for the day being done and rushed to finish everything she had left lol. she's equally down bad ehehe #toya's gonna have a laugh when omi walks in w atsumu hanging off her while snos and skts have a spiderman meme moment #alright those tags out of the way #HAPPY BIRTHDAY GAIA MY BELOVEDD #woke up saw it was your birthday and wrote this for you my fellow fem skts lover <33 #it's absolute nonsense plot-wise but since it's me writing it. it's cute and incredible and everything ever :D #also if there's mistakes here shh. i was editing while watching suna beeing yeeted and omi get kidnapped on [ ]'s stream on the server #okay real tags:#haikyuu #haikyuu fic #miya atsumu #sakusa kiyoomi #sakuatsu #maz writes #my fic

28 notes · View notes

capybaracorn · 3 days

Text

‘We won’t stop’: How Columbia’s students etched a new Gaza protest legacy

Inside a movement that took over a university building and lost its encampment within 24 hours – yet refuses to die.

New York, United States — At about 10pm on Monday, April 29, I thought I would call it a night.

My student journalist colleagues and I had stayed late into the night on Columbia University’s campus the previous couple of days, reporting on a story that had grabbed the world’s attention: the pro-Palestine protests and encampment that had inspired similar campaigns in schools across the United States and globally.

As I slung my camera bag on my back and began to leave campus, walking by the camp, I got a tip from a passing protester: “I would stick around till about midnight,” they said. “Maybe go home first, though.”

Got it. I went home to charge backup camera batteries and grab spare memory cards before leaving for campus again.

Back at Columbia, it appeared that more than one of us had gotten the tip. Crowds of student journalists, all of us with matching paper badges and blue tape on our clothes, waited next to the encampment for whatever was to come. Our journalism faculty stood by our side, as they had been doing throughout.

Protesters grouped into “platoons”, and while we didn’t know what to expect, we kept eyes on different corners.

We split up to make sure different spots were covered; a few of us stuck by Pulitzer Hall, the home of Columbia Journalism School, where a small number of protesters had convened, while some others stood ready with cameras and recorders by the encampment.

That is when it all began. Campers began walking their tents off the lawn. One group began chanting. Another at the opposite end of the lawn sang protest hymns. I was with a small cohort of journalists who followed the tents to another small lawn, a clever decoy – whether intended or not – that meant many of us missed the moment, at the opposite end of campus, when protesters entered Hamilton Hall.

By the time we had run over, tens of student protesters had gathered to link arms outside the building, which their predecessors had taken over in 1968 to protest against the Vietnam War, and in 1985 to demand that Columbia divest from firms tied to apartheid South Africa.

Two of my colleagues were in the middle of the scrum, up against the doors watching two counter-protesters attempt to stop the occupation before being pushed out. Protesters rushed metal picnic tables, wooden chairs, trash cans, and planters to the doors where they were zip-tied together, effectively forming a barricade.

Two masked individuals appeared from a second-floor balcony to cheers and applause. They unfurled a hand-painted sign, “Hind’s Hall”, a reference to the six-year-old Palestinian girl who was killed with her family in their car in January as they tried to escape Israel’s military assault in Gaza.

That night, I fell asleep on the floor of a sixth-storey classroom in Pulitzer Hall to the echoes of song, one lone voice amplified through a megaphone, coming from Hamilton Hall: “This joy that I have, the world didn’t give it to me … the world can’t take it away.”

Student protesters playing music at the Columbia University encampment in New York City [Yasmeen Altaji/Al Jazeera]

The final offer

The morning before had felt very different. Columbia University’s South Lawn was packed, and the little protest village in the heart of the campus – dozens of tents and tarps comprising the “Gaza solidarity encampment” – was bustling with life, two weeks since its erection.

The protest is rooted in a decades-long movement for Palestinian rights in their homeland, and to hold Israel accountable for its illegal occupation of Palestinian territories. The current campaign against Israel’s war on Gaza – in which more than 34,000 people have been killed – also aims to pressure Columbia to divest from Israel-linked companies, just as the university did in the case of apartheid South Africa after similar protests four decades ago.

In my time covering the protest, the sounds at the encampment varied. Some days, you could hear the (Islamic) adhan, or the chants of (Jewish) Passover prayer. Or the sounds of the dumbek (drum) and sharp violins echoing microtonal hymns of Palestinian folk music and classical Andalusian muwashshah. Speakers amplified the melodies of iconic musicians like Abdel Halim Hafez and Fairuz.

Protesters shared donated hot meals – pizzas and samosas, bagels and eggs, sacks of mandarins and tubs of crackers, muffins and cookies spread on a tarp aptly called the “cornucopia”.

One camper had set up a makeshift nail parlour, painting red, white, black and green manicures matching the Palestinian flag. Cardboard “street signs” named the tight spaces between rows of tents “Walid Daqqa Road”, after the Palestinian novelist and activist who died of cancer in April, while in Israeli custody.

In the lawn’s centre, organisers routinely updated a whiteboard to reflect the day’s programmed activities: Dhuhr prayer and Shabbat dinner, with jazz in the mix, too.

In a corner of the lawn near the main campus walk, an “art guild” was buzzing with protesters painting signs, drawing patterns of the keffiyeh, decorating and personalising tent spaces.

But that Monday, campers received a final offer from the university administration under President Nemat “Minouche” Shafik: evacuate now, and evade suspension. Campers defied the order.

And by Monday night, the morning’s bustle had died down to a hum, then a whisper, before the eruption that culminated in the takeover of Hamilton Hall. At the encampment site, the zipper flap doors of empty tents billowed in the breeze. Blankets lay crumpled beside pillows still dented from a nap; a sole LED lantern left lit on the ground, a paintbrush crusted with dried red and green acrylic lay stuck on a paper plate.

It’s a community that student journalists like myself at the Columbia Journalism School had closely observed for days at a stretch, unlike the “outside media” who were only allowed on to campus in daily two-hour windows since the encampment went up. Joining us were undergraduate peers at student publications including WKCR and the Columbia Daily Spectator.

A community that, through the intensifying attention on its members, had been trying to emphasise that they weren’t the story. Signs planted across the lawn read: “All eyes on Gaza.”

But in the 24 hours that would follow, the world’s gaze on Columbia would only sharpen.

Students were trapped inside the entrance vestibule at John Jay Hall in Columbia University in New York on Tuesday, April 30, 2023 [Yasmeen Altaji/Al Jazeera]

The raid

Tuesday morning started eerily quiet. The camp was empty, save for a few protesters, and Hamilton Hall was sleepy, the only movement coming from a banner reading “INTIFADA” hanging off the side of the building.

Just a few days prior, far before the occupation of Hamilton Hall, the Columbia administration had sent a notice arguing that “to bring back the NYPD at this time would be counterproductive, further inflaming what is happening on campus, and drawing thousands to our doorstep who would threaten our community”.

The note was met with mistrust by protesters: After all, the university had already called the police to campus for the first time in more than 50 years in April to try to clear the encampment. More than 100 students had been arrested.

Instead, I heard organisers advise campers to pack their belongings in trash bags and write phone numbers on their arms in case of arrest.

By Tuesday night, their apprehension would turn into reality. The NYPD entered Columbia’s campus shortly after 9pm on Tuesday (01:00 GMT on Wednesday).

Students linked arms and sang together in anticipation before the harmonies of “We shall not be moved” merged with the march of hundreds of police officers making their way, in formation, to Hamilton Hall.

Calls through long-range acoustic devices (LRAD) to disperse or face arrest, echoed across the campus square, all the time weaving in and out of the floating tunes of the protest hymns, earworms that anyone who’d been on campus had likely come to memorise.

Protesters outside of Hamilton braced for arrest. But officers turned away from them upon arrival, and instead turned towards us – onlookers and press.

Officers instructed us to vacate the area. We walked backwards to get everything on video. “It’s easier if you face forward,” one officer said. “Turn around so you don’t fall,” another yelled repeatedly in a collective command. “Time to go inside,” another said. “Back to your dorms.”

While our backs were against the door of a building at the end of the courtyard where Hamilton was, the doors opened, and officers raised their batons, giving one final push until we were all inside. There was a moment of disorientation before we realised where we were: inside an undergraduate dormitory called John Jay Hall.

It’s where the student health centre, a dining hall, and a late-night campus eatery are. But we couldn’t see any of that. While police guarded the doors into the entry vestibule of the building in front of us, campus security guarded the rest of the building behind us, restricting access to dorm residents.

With about 30 or 40 of us squeezed into the small entry vestibule, ventilation was poor. We wouldn’t reach the bathroom. Red arrows pointed towards the emergency exit but the doors were blocked by officers. Phone batteries were dying. And most pressing, for the journalists among us: we couldn’t see Hamilton beyond the bodies of officers standing at John Jay’s glass doors.

For about three hours, students kicked at the front doors, slouched on the ground against the wall, and slept with their backpacks as pillows. One student sat cross-legged on the floor, sobbing softly while her friend comforted her.

Three hours passed in that hall before we were let out, officers directing us to dorms and buildings they did not know the names or locations of. “We know you want to get out of here. We’re doing you a favour,” one said.

As I left campus at about 1:30am, I walked past a crew hauling the tents off the South Lawn and into a garbage truck that crushed them on the spot.

[See embedded video in the article]

The remains

On Wednesday, the tension wasn’t palpable, only disappointment. The campus was quiet, but not calm. It was completely empty. No one, aside from residents and essential staff – which the journalism faculty ensured we were viewed as, as student journalists – were allowed past campus gates.

Where the encampment once stood, there were only marks of discoloured grass in the shape of rectangular tent bases.

But the movement seems anything but a ghost; on Wednesday, protesters hosted a “light show” beside the campus, projecting titles onto the public-facing side of Hamilton Hall that read “Hind’s Hall forever.”

Every year, on the eve of exams, students gather to let out what is known as a “primal scream” on campus. On Thursday, they took that tradition to Shafik’s house, shouting outside her door.

On Friday, protesters again lined the street outside of Columbia’s gate. And the words still rang through the neighbourhood: “Disclose, divest, we will not stop, we will not rest.”

34 notes · View notes