#says the girl that just made three posts in less than an hour
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You Don’t Even Know My Name, Do You? — {Feat. Minji}
3.1k words
A/N: Hi! It’s me, back in 6 months! I had the idea for this one since last summer, but never really made it a fic. But now I post it…! It’s a rushed fic, no editing, I’m sorry for any grammatical errors or typos. Thank you @praeluxius for help and advice in making the conversation better and more natural! Thanks for 1.6k followers and most importantly 1k notes for ‘Niche’!!! Enjoy reading this and luv you all…!
******
Subways late at night are dangerous, and you can’t deny it’s because of you. Drunken bodies swaying along the rail, left and right, back and forth, grasping up on their wasted balance not to embarrass themselves by falling on the floor. Less than an hour left from waving away the day, you can tell where others in the train came from—bars, karaokes, or anywhere with entertainment and alcohol. Returning home after having some fun to wrap up the day and live the following day. Victims of society, some say, but that’s what all people are. We work, get paid. Victims don’t get to enjoy themselves, do they? But to be honest, you’re not the one to care for them, the victims, when you’re one of the victimizers.
You’re standing next to the door, the best position to scan the people in and out, empirically certified by yourself. There are quite a few people in the car—only a few seats available and half of the people chose to spare the seats empty. You’re holding onto a steel bar and slightly leaning your weight on it, eyeing thoroughly for your prey. But there’s no one yet to suit your taste, no one looking good and wealthy.
The mechanical female voice informs the next stop and a few dozens of seconds later the train halts for another group of people to be added to your menu.
“Alright, alright! I’m not that stupid to let someone just, like, snatch my purse away, huh?”
You hear a girl talking to her phone, laughing like she just heard the dumbest advice ever. A crop top for her defined belly to be open, relatively baggy jeans hinting the sculpted curve of her hips and full-blown outlines of legs. Within a second that girl has made everyone in the car latch their eyes on her doing nothing.
“What the fuck? I didn’t drink that much tonight I swear, and fuck, even an alcoholic won’t forget his own name,”
The girl, however, certainly looks drunk, sounds drunk, and acts drunk. Her eyes barely stay open, her tongue hardly makes her words clear. You can even smell how much she poured down her throat. It’s becoming more and more fit for your ideal condition.
Her talk goes on for a few more minutes then she puts her phone in her handbag and looks into the dark, mirror-like window. Her blinks become lazier and slower by the second, alcohol weighing her eyelids, but she does her best to stay up. She looks around to shake off the fatigue and meets your eyes, which have been on her since the moment she walked in. Three seconds is enough to make her look away in shyness, but it isn’t enough for her to examine you as her eyes lock with yours again.
She lets her eyes travel down your body to your toes slowly through(in) the window, alcohol erasing the fact that the subway is public. You pretend to neglect as she keeps eyeing you, head to toe several times, and the next stop the stumbly girl is forced to stand next to you by the crowd gushing in. Unavoidable contacts add leads to your eyes awkwardly meeting, which draws out mirrored smiles from each.
“Sorr-oh!”
A slight rattle of the train almost tackles her down but your arms are there to hold her from meeting the floor.
"Careful, you almost hit your head, could have ended up like our friend over there." You nod and gesture at old man asleep at the other end of the carriage
"He looks peaceful though."
"You think you can stand up by yourself now?"
"Of Course! I'm not even that drunk."
"The last time my friend said that, he ended up face down in a bush." As soon as you’re done talking she stumbles again to her embarrassment. And of course you keep her standing.
"So you didn't catch him?"
"He's not as cute as you." She laughs and blushes, palm on her mouth and the tone a bit too high for a laughter in a subway.
“Where do you live?” Change of topic, and you’re surprised that it’s her asking you, not the other way around as it used to be.
“Two stops before the terminus.” She checks where the train currently is, and stares at the map for a few dozen seconds as if her brain is still soaked with drinks, before looking back at you and pointing to the map.
“I’m getting off two stops later,” She blushes again, this time there’s even an awkward smile on her face. As if trying to say something shameful.
“And…” Her fidgety fingers dig into the arm of your shirt and her eyes are fixed on your shoes to never climb up. “And?” You repeat her, grin on your face because of her being so bashful and how overt her real intention is.
“And my name’s Minji by the way. Kim Minji.” It's trickery. A decoy. You almost burst into laughter but keep it down to a debonair ‘mhmm’ instead, hoping to bail Minji out of her own struggle to let the real words out.
And her phone rings. “No, not yet. Only two stops left. No, I don’t sound slurry at all, thanks. Oh my god, Hanni. I said I’m not that drunk! Yeah, I met a guy and maybe he’s taking me to my place-oh my god.” A brief moment of soberness washes through her body but her face is even rosier than ever. Over her phone you hear a woman shouting ‘hey’s and her name, but soon Minji hangs up. The train halts, and she just rushes between the crowd to get off out of shame but you catch her arm.
“Hey, it’s the wrong station.” She can’t look at your smirking face even facing you, face still red and fumbles the hem of her top. “Sorry for that… That was a total mistake.”
“It’s okay,” Minji raises her head, looks at you. “You’re drunk like hell, and you were going to say that anyways.” She's left speechless for a moment, then she opens her mouth to say something but frowns ignorantly.
“Why are you laughing? I was so embarrassed!” She's overtly trying to act cute and it's so working on you. With drunken red cheeks, slurry, lethargic pronunciation and on top of everything, her mesmerizing face. Even your most prior purpose is being threatened to melt by her exhilarating cuteness.
“It’s nothing.” But your lips just can’t hide your smile, and there is more than one reason; Minji’s being so clingy, which is what usually happens when alcohol infiltrates people’s brains, and it is an aid for you as always. And when the announcement informs you of the next stop, her babyish grumbles are gone and shyness permeates again.
“So… Are you going to take me to my place…?” You hold out our arms and guide the groggy girl out of the train. “After you.” Minji can’t subdue the chuckles from the dizzy liquor, how sensible you are, at least in her opinion, and the fact that you two are going to stay the night together in her place.
On the other hand, for you the reasons are somewhat different; it’s because tonight you made it, will see some pennies in your pocket and will be able to keep your stomach filled for a few more days. And she’s completely blind for that, giggling so innocently like what she’d do with her lover.
It must be her first time flirting with a guy. She can’t just follow anybody she likes. It’s dangerous. She can’t just trust anybody because he’s amiable. There could be a vice in his mind, transgressions at the tips of his fingers. Somebody should warn her about this, you think. How paradoxical. Maybe you won’t be doing this for long. But that’s something to worry about later.
All these thoughts pass through your mind in less than a second, and when you look back at her you see the green, innocent girl fluttered with excitement. “Lead the way please.” And she does.
******
“This is my place, it might be a little bit messy but-“ Minji opens the door and you close. “It’s okay. No one cares.” She sounds like the soberness has returned, but when you catch her ridiculously stumbling changing her shoes into slippers, ask if she’s okay, and she answers back that she’s alright, you just find yourself tentative about what’s in your mind.
“Are we going to kiss?” You know it’s a tipsy whim. You know she might not know what she’s doing. But it’s her asking you, not the opposite, she has no one to blame but herself, and you also know that she won’t. So you give it a go.
Her lips feel soft. You kiss her lips in a gingerly manner, eyes closed to focus all your senses to your lips. It feels like forever, but it’s obviously provisional so you do your best to find the perfect angle of your head, the right position of your hands, and the exact moment for your tongue to engage. A brief detach and then smoothly latch onto again, and a several times more, and in no time you two are completely submerged in the sensation, in the atmosphere and the feeling.
You open her lips with your tongue, and the key works so well you don’t even have to put any more effort to meet hers; she’s been waiting for it. When you taste her mouth, the alcoholic air hits your gustation and the olfactory sense—Jesus, how many glasses did she empty?—and you swallow it down to your body. Her tongue jockeys in your mouth, on your palate, around your tongue, everywhere it can reach. She’s so needy that when you try to withdraw for some air her arms lock you up and pull you in for a longer liplock.
But that doesn’t last long, before Minji herself pulls back to breathe.
“Minji,” Gasping, you call her name. She doesn’t respond. She takes your hand and drags you to her bedroom. It’s tidied up well unlike what she warned you about, but you don’t have any time to be infatuated with how neat her bedroom is, when her hasty tongue knocks on your lips to open up.
She really can’t hold it back as she redoubles the whirl inside your mouth. At this point you’re a bit shocked at how aggressive she has become—or, she might’ve been like this from the very start—but god, what a joy to reciprocate. But this desire is not a genital one, rather more like a sheer indulgence of the feeling itself as if it’s her first time.
“Minji, no one’s chasing you. You don’t have to rush.” Hands on her shoulders you say, in an assuring tone, to the panting girl in front of you. Regardless she dives in yet again, this time her hands dragging her jeans down, totally ignoring what you said. She doesn’t feel sorry, but neither do you when you can in fact enjoy what’s going to unfold.
You find it kinda cute to see that talkative girl in the subway all silent and busy with her hands with heavy breaths. It’s as if you have unbound her from the straitjacket—or the alcohol did—and her actual self inside was in need of some rabid lovemaking. No denial that she���s getting what she wants.
It’s hammy but a pleasure to watch. Her hands move to your top and hastily take it off of you, a sigh when it blocks the kiss. You’re overwhelmed as you take your pants yourself but Minji pulls it down to your ankles. Stepping out of them you push her onto her bed and crawl up to be parallel with her, eyes to eyes. When your erect cock brushes on her tummy she squints her eyes with a flinch. Her nerves are so worked up, whether it be from the intoxication she’s been in for hours or the anticipation. Or both.
“Minji, are you alright?” Her face is so red, her breaths are shallow and her teeth keep on biting her own fist. She just nods, eyes still filled with unrest; in fact you can’t tell if it’s concern or anticipation, but either way it’s your job to relax her.
And putting her hand off of her mouth and replacing it with your lips is what you come up with as a solution. As if you want to absorb the turmoil out of her. When your tongues meet and intertwine her hands climb up to the back of your head and pull you deeper into the trance. Time passes like that. Minji’s so lost in the sensation, and when you lightly put your hand on her breasts she moans into your mouth. The size is just unblemished for you to leisurely fondle, so you keep doing that until she detaches from the kiss, asks you to take her top off with a coo.
“You look so beautiful. Just relax, Minji.” She bites on your under lip when your hand softly squeezes her breast and plays with her nipple. The pain is an approval you’d gratefully take.
You slide down to her neck, collarbone, chest, stomach and finally to her crotch, peppering everywhere on your way with pecks and licks and making it glisten. And oh, her pussy lips are already glistening—dripping, soaking wet—with her own water, nectar so dense with desire. You glimpse at her and she nods desperately, underside of her lips bitten hard, as if when you latch your tongue on her sex it’ll bleed.
And when you do she yelps, sharp yet gutty, with her back involuntarily arching upward. “Ah, please…!” Is what follows her scream when you flick your tongue on her sensitive nub. You cherish her response and repeat it, eyeing her facial expressions and enjoying every furrow of her brows, every grasp on your hair and every squish of her thighs on your ears. It doesn’t take a while to reach the point where she loses control of herself. Where she loses her mind and cums with a scream. Your skull gets crushed between Minji’s fleshy thighs and your tongue drowns in her juices gushing into your mouth. It’s too saccharine, too flashy, beyond what you expected from her.
“You’re so good at that… I’ve never squirted like that before.” Minji looks spent. Chest heaving up and down quickly, eyes almost teary and her tongue barely pronouncing correctly. You climb up again and lock lips with her, letting her taste her own liquid.
“Nngh…” You coat your cock with her prevailing girlcum, scrub it on her entrance a few times and slowly, slowly enter her first with only the head. That summons the clingy girl into her again as her arms lock around your neck and she screams into your shoulder. It’s enrapturing to feel the head of your cock slowly discover deeper parts of her, to hear her material moans permeating into your bones.
“God, you feel amazing!” Is what she says when you are halfway inside her. You withdraw a little bit, and put in even more, to make your entire cock disappear inside her. Her arms almost choke you when she hugs you tighter and shouts ‘yes’s and ‘oh my god’s right next to your ear.
“Minji, I’m going to move. I’m going to fuck you.” You groan. It’s finally the time to unleash everything in you, all too stacked up from the agonizing foreplays. “Yes, fuck me. Make me cum please-oh my god it feels so good!” You’re not going slow at all. The smacking sound is music to your ears, and her moans melt your brain. So you go brainless. Hitting the right spot and making her cry every time. It's soft no more, and Minji finds it crazy. Her arms can't settle down but intermittently darts about on the bed.
“Minji, fuck…” You doubt that she can hear you in the room full of her orgasmic yelps and moans. “Fuck, I love it! So deep inside me, don't stop…!” Her legs flutter, eyes roll back and fingers dig into your arms helplessly when she cums on your cock hard. “God, I can't… I can't-” The girl shyly asking for a kiss is now gone, beautifully degraded to a girl enjoying, loving and getting overtaken by the pleasure teeming into her.
Overstimulated, Minji wriggles as if the sensations are throttling her. A few minutes you were caring about her more than you, but now your priorities are reset; you’re reminded of your purpose here, it's not for her sake, it's for you. And regardless of her condition you just push in, harder and deeper than each thrust, to the finish line. Her torso is turned red and at some point she's looking into your eyes, those subtle muscles beckoning for you to go for it, to cum.
“Minji, I'm cumming…! Fuck!” You splatter your seed all over her tummy and tits. The icing on the cake, an eye candy you're never going to be tired looking at.
“It was… Incredible.” Minji has a satisfied smile on her face. “Good to know you enjoyed it.” You nestle on the bed next to her, rearranging the wet strands of her hair out of her face.
******
Minji is asleep. Like nothing happened a few minutes ago. Like you're not in the bed with her. That's not an unexpected thing for you. You dress up, wipe your cum off her body. She's so pretty when sleeping, you think to yourself.
But right after that you take her purse; there are a few bucks and a credit card. And in the dressing table you find some fancy jewelry boxes.
It's bad, immoral. It's what you do for a living. Can't say you feel proud but not much of a guilt in your mind either. Maybe a little though. But only for this time. You actually liked Minji. Not that much, but you felt something different. Maybe you two can run into each other someday. And maybe you're hoping that happens, even though you know it won't help you in any ways. You can't explain it but there's something in your mind about what happened tonight.
But you carry on, find a pen and a post-it, write something down and stick it on her empty purse on the nightstand.
‘You don't even know my name, do you?’
******
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Castaways (Part 1)
AN: Before I get into the notes for this - I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who took the time to send me a message / comment on my post, it meant a lot to me. 💜💜💜 As for this story, I started writing it in Sept of 2022, after watching the Harrison Ford movie, Six Days, Seven Nights lol. I had a lot of it down pretty quickly but eventually, I stopped. Now that new ideas aren't as bountiful as they once were, I started combing through all of the half-finished works in my docs and I fell back in love with this one. Hopefully you enjoy it. I have an ending planned out so there will definitely be a part 2! Shout out to @wheresarizona for betaing and just general wonderfulness, to @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me through comments in this doc. Enjoy xox.
Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader (Princess as a nickname)
Warnings; C o m p e t e n c y - a very brief snake…encounter?-piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy with gusto (when doesn't he), creampie, longing, yearning, a helicopter crash (nothing too graphic), reader is spoiled at first and generally kind of snobby- enemies to lovers? Bit of a slow burn! let me know if I missed anything.
Word count; 13k 😅
reblogs are appreciated
Masterlist
The click of your heels sounded throughout the airy hangar with a purpose, the echoing sound of it heralding your journey to give someone—anyone hell.
A quick flick of your wrist reminds you how late you already were for the retreat booked in your private slice of paradise; the private jet your father paid a fortune for had made an emergency stop in Puerto Rico- some nonsense about a storm.
Unacceptable.
An imperious sigh leaves your mouth -not a single person to lay into anywhere in sight, and it leaves you no choice but to head outside to see if there is a plane you could commandeer.
—
He wipes the grease onto the legs of his well-worn work coveralls, his previous scowl gone and replaced with a triumphant smile - finally got that fucking bolt off-
“Excuse me-” He turns toward the sound and is greeted by a very annoyed-looking woman. “Hi, do you know where I can find a pilot? There’s no one in the hangar.” She drags a very expensive-looking suitcase behind her with one hand, the other holding a ridiculously large hat onto her head.
“Hi, yes I’m a pilot - most of the staff have gone home, a big storm coming soon-”
“Perfect, can I hire you to fly me to this island?” Her fingers flew across the no-doubt latest model of smartphone in her hands - ignoring the shocked expression on his face at being so rudely interrupted. “This one here, I need to be there like three hours ago, and I would be there now if we hadn’t stopped here - you know where this is, right? Can you take me?” She all but shoves the phone into his face.
“No.” He carefully moves her manicured hand away from his face, and a tiny, cruel little part of him enjoys the shock in her expression - he very quickly gets the impression that this girl is not used to hearing the word. “As I was saying - everyone has gone home, a lot of people were grounded here, myself included. There is a big thunderstorm coming. Not safe to fly until it passes. Shouldn’t last too long - a quick squall - come back tomorrow, and I’ll happily fly you there.” He then turns to continue his work.
“Money is no object, but I need to leave now,” she says it through a huffed breath, and his eyebrows raise.
“And yet, my answer is still no.” He’s annoyed now. In truth, it was a fairly quick flight - he knew the island she’d shown him, had made the trip before, and it would be less than an hour, but her attitude was a black mark against her. Her phone trills then, a cheery tone, momentarily snatching her attention from him.
“Hi, Dad, yeah, I know. I’m at the hangar, looking for a ride.” She taps her foot, and it sets his teeth on edge. “There is a pilot here, but he says he won’t fly me.” She narrows her eyes at him when he turns to look at her, listening to the other half of the conversation he wasn’t privy to. “I’ll tell him- Sorry-” She inspects his name tag, “Francisco, my father says if you get me to the island within the hour, he’ll make it worth your while. Name your price.”
“I don’t know what part of it isn’t safe isn’t registering-” She raises her voice and speaks over him.
“He’ll pay you ten thousand dollars.” Her tone is loud but bored. “Besides - the skies are gorgeous - I’m sure we can make it before anything happens.” She waits a moment, “Plus another five grand when you land. And you can have accommodations until tomorrow - room service, the works. Just please - get me there.” Her eyes are hopeful, and for a brief moment, he acknowledges how pretty she is, or - would be, if she wasn’t such an insufferable princess.
He knew he should have said no. Knew he should have turned her down and followed the guidelines, but that kind of money would change his life. Change their lives- it would have been insane for him to turn it down.
“Fine.” He relents, shoving down the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I’ll be your pilot. We’ll be out of here in ten minutes.” She almost jumps with joy, and he can’t hide the annoyed expression on his face.
“Done - okay, I’ll be there soon, Dad! Bye.”
-
He was covered in grease.
You had to remind yourself not to wrinkle your nose at him. You supposed he could be handsome, in a scruffy, working man way, but that's beside the point. He was your saving grace right now, and that counted for a lot.
He fiddles with the engine of the helicopter for a moment more while he leaves you to wrestle your suitcase in by yourself, thankfully without breaking a nail.
“Alright - just going to perform a couple of checks, and we’ll be in the air.” He got in and began flicking switches, turning knobs, and checking over all manner of gauges while you made yourself as comfortable as was possible in the cramped little aircraft. It was hard, though, with your suitcase practically digging into your back behind you.
It’s fine. I’ll just have to get a massage once I land.
“Okay, we’re off.” He has his headset on, and you are in the air within a few moments. That, unfortunately, seemed to be the end of your good luck.
Whether by some cruel design, by the fates or gods, or whatever entity dictated the events of your life - it didn’t take twenty minutes in the air for the sky to turn a foreboding gray.
“That doesn’t look good,” he says, the words loud enough to be heard over the noise, his eyes quickly scanning the horizon, no doubt taking in the dark clouds flanking either side of the already rickety helicopter.
“It came out of nowhere.” One minute, the sky was blue, and the next, lightning forked the sky in the distance.
“No, it didn’t - I told you a storm was coming. This is too dangerous - I’m going to have to turn around for our safety.” He maneuvers the controls, and you have no choice but to agree despite your annoyance.
It all happened so fast.
Something strikes the aircraft, the sound of it booming in your ears so loud it hurts, and then he’s frantic. Manically pressing buttons and calling through the radio, but from the frustrated and frankly terrified expression, no one is answering.
“Fuck, tighten your seatbelt, we’re going down!” He grits his teeth, and all of a sudden, you are spinning, a scream being ripped from your throat - your heart falling out of your ass. “Impact coming - brace yourself!” he screams before the world goes black.
-
Someone is making noise, a low groaning noise that pulls him out from the depths of unconsciousness, he’s only mildly surprised to realize it is him.
The helicopter - his helicopter wasn’t making any noise, which was bad.
Under normal circumstances, it would be broadcasting out a signal beacon that would bring in a rescue team, but as it stood right now - without blinking lights or a working radio - it had gone completely silent.
Lighting must have fried it. Fuck.
He took stock of his situation. Luckily, he doesn’t feel any injuries aside from horrible whiplash. No blood, no broken bones. A softer groan comes from the woman beside him; she’s still out, and he couldn’t see any injuries- he’d know when she woke up.
I could kill you right now.
He thought the words, sighing loudly to himself before finding a way out of the cockpit. He’d managed to move most of what he had in the helicopter out onto the sand by the time she woke.
“Jesus Christ - what the hell happened?” She stumbles out, barely managing to stop herself from eating shit in the process, unfortunately.
“What happened is the storm I warned you about many times caught us in the air and grounded us here.” He’s laying out his supplies, lengths of rope, his toolbox, and empty water jugs. He has a small case with a flare gun, an emergency kit filled with first aid supplies, and a massive tarp. There are a few more things to go through, but it is important they find a source of freshwater soon, or they won’t last two days, especially with the heat making his clothes stick to his body.
She sighs loudly, struggling to make her way through the sand in those ridiculous heels she’s wearing
“And now we’re stuck here, on an island when, where I should be, is home with my-“
“Can’t you call mayday or something? My father is expecting me. I’m sure he’ll have an army looking for us.” She’s digging through her purse frantically, ignoring the scathing look he’s giving her.
Spoiled little brat, you only care about yourself, huh?
“Wow. You know what? That’s a great idea! Why the hell didn’t I think of that?” He can’t hold back. “Oh! I know, it’s because we were struck by lightning, and it fried everything, so whatever army your father sends won’t find us -there is no signal to hone in on.” He scowls at her, annoyed that she isn’t paying attention to him even now. “Doesn’t help that a lot of these islands that are usually full of tourists are uninhabited after the hurricane that hit a few months ago.”
“So we’re stuck here???” Her eyes are wild as they look past him, to the beach just beyond, and then to the thick greenery behind them. “This cannot be happening right now,” she spoke to herself.
“Where the fuck is my phone??” She moves and makes her way back into the cockpit, all but ripping the aircraft apart before- “Fuck! You have got to be fucking kidding me! Don’t you have some kind of satellite phone or something??” She’s tapping at the deeply damaged screen, it completely destroyed.
He couldn’t help but bark out cruel laughter.
“I don’t know what planet you’re on. People - regular people don’t just have satellite phones, sweetheart.” He got up from his place in the sand, making sure to put the flares back in the helicopter.
“Great. Just great.” She sighs loudly, “So we’re stuck here. Do you even know where here is?” She fishes into her bag once more, pulling out a bottle of what looks to be sunscreen, and squeezing out some to spread over her exposed skin.
“No. I don’t, but the heat is going to kill us if we don’t find water soon. Grab one of those jugs, and let’s go find water. You might want to change your shoes.” He pushes her suitcase at her, ignoring the shocked look on her face. “Chop chop, princess, let’s move.”
-
This couldn’t be happening, this could not be happening!
Right now, you should have been mingling with Louis, the gorgeous, billionaire bachelor your father invited to your private resort. You could almost picture it, the classy yet sexy outfit you’d be wearing while you flirted over a drink by the infinity pool. Broadening your horizons and nailing down the rich husband you deserve.
Instead, you’re here - stuck in the sand with the world's grumpiest pilot, trying desperately to get your phone to work, but it’s no use.
You can almost see the frantic look on your mother's face now that it was obvious that you hadn’t made it at the scheduled time, she and your father were probably coordinating with the military right this second, with the Navy.
What the fuck am I going to do-
The jug hits your lap, scaring you half to death.
“Come on, princess, let’s get moving. We have to find fresh water before we die of dehydration out here.” He’s standing a few feet away, staring at you with his perpetual scowl. “Change your shoes, and let’s go.”
“What’s wrong with my shoes?” They were pretty sensible as far as your sandals went, respectable heels, and relatively comfortable. His scowl deepens.
“You cannot stumble around the island in those, you’ll break an ankle, and I am not fucking dealing with that.” His eyes narrow. “Tell me you brought a pair of runners in that giant trunk.”
“Of course I did,” your tone is icy as you get up with a huff. You quickly changed into them, and then you were off.
The terrain got more and more treacherous the further you got from the powdery white sand of the beach. Dirt and bramble gave way to thick, almost jungle-like vegetation, making the trek harder and harder as time slogged by.
The sound of running water greets the two of you like a siren song, spurring your tired, sweat-soaked body to move quicker, and the sight that meets you once you break the dense treeline could've made you moan. You jump into the water to cool your heated skin, ignoring the warning from Francisco.
“You should get out of there.” He’s at the edge of the clearish water, filling the jugs quickly.
He seems to be determined to infuse his sour attitude into everything, your mouth opened to tell him to relax when something brushes past your leg. At first, you think it might be a piece of underwater flora, but it becomes apparent very quickly that it’s something far worse.
“Francisco.” His eyes met yours, “Francisco, something just swam into my shorts, I-I think it’s a snake.” Your voice trembles slightly, hands itching to pull whatever it was out, but his voice cuts through the urge.
“Don’t move- are you sure it’s a snake?” He put the jugs down beside him, moving closer to you, descending slowly into the water.
“Yes, It’s coiling around my thigh, moving up - I need it out right now, I wanna just grab it-“ Your head tilts down, but he stops you.
“Don’t move! It could be venomous.” He wades into the water towards you slowly, too slowly. Your heart’s racing, hands shaking as you wait for him to reach you.
“Help me, get it out, get it out!” your voice is almost manic, desperation colouring every single inch of you.
“Okay, okay, calm - deep breath.” You followed his example as best you could, trying yet failing to ignore the slithering against your skin. “Slowly pull your waistband away from your body, and I’ll see if I can grab it,” his tone had lowered, a soothing timbre reminding you for a moment of how a teacher would speak to a student.
It helps.
You did as he asked, pulling at the waistband of your shorts, all thoughts of propriety forgotten, and within a moment, his hand was shoved down deep - a rather large hand fighting with whatever it was that had made camp in your pants.
He bit his lip in concentration, bodily pulling you towards him as he struggled. A moment later, he was raising it up triumphantly.
A huge shiver went down your spine at the sight of it, spurring you to get out of the water as fast as humanly possible.
“Jesus Christ, it’s just one fucking thing after another,” you spoke as you made it out without incident, ignoring the huge sigh he let out behind you. “Thank you for that.” He was following closely behind you, not interested, it seemed, in having a similar experience.
“Don’t mention it. Let's fill these and get back to the beach.” He hands you a couple of empty jugs, and you reluctantly got to work.
-
All things considered, they were lucky. Frankie knew that. His helicopter - albeit small - was surprisingly well-equipped to handle being stranded. He had an emergency survival kit, purchased partly under the insistence of his mother but mostly so he never had to relive what had happened to him a few years ago. He’d tried not to think about it, but walking through the foliage back to the crash site had brought it all back. Vividly.
He pushed it away, shoved it down deep where he kept the rest of his issues - instead choosing to focus on what they needed to do. They needed some form of shelter, and soon.
“I am sweltering,” her voice was low behind him, whiny with the distinct tone of someone who had never truly been uncomfortable a day in her life. “Fucking starving.”
“Most likely, you’re dehydrated. Once we get back to the beach, we can figure out the water,” he spoke over his shoulder. “Have to make camp if we’re going to be here for a while.” They broke through the treeline, seeing his helicopter on the beach like a pile of old bones broke his heart a little - his only connection to home, to his little girl. He pushes it all away again.
“So how do we get this water drinkable?” she huffs out the words, dropping the jugs next to his laid-out supplies with great effort.
“We have to set up a purifying system, filter it, and then boil it.” He crouches down towards his supplies, looking for something clean he could use as a sieve. Luckily, he always kept an overnight bag with him, in case of being grounded somewhere, but he only had three shirts in there, he couldn’t burn one since he didn’t know exactly how long they’d be stuck there.
“I don’t have much in terms of clothes - you got anything we could use?” He looks up at her, “Something simple, a cotton t-shirt? Something we could use to strain the water.” He walks towards her trunk, waiting for her to open it up.
She opens it reluctantly, rifling through her things for a moment before handing over a simple white shirt. “Any chance I’ll be able to wear that again?” her voice is vaguely annoyed.
“I’m sure Daddy won’t mind buying you a new one.” She gives him an expression that could curdle milk. He ignores it. Instead, he busies himself, setting the jugs of water somewhere relatively level. He felt her eyes on him, and it compelled him to explain what he did as he worked. “We have to let the water settle for about an hour, let the sediment sink to the bottom, then strain it, then boil it.” Not for the first time in his life, he was happy to have his military gear within reach.
-
He works fast - you have to give him that.
As much as he grumbles and looks at you like you are the devil incarnate - you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly intelligent. Within a few hours of getting back to the camp, he had built an impressive fire, filtered the jugs of water, and had boiled most of it.
“Tomorrow, we’ll get to work building some sort of shelter,” he spoke after he finally sat down, the first break he’d taken all day. “Have to go about looking for food too, I saw some fruit trees - we’ll grab them on the way back from getting more water.” His eyes are heavy, you can see it in the way he blinked slower and slower.
“We have to make that trek again?” your voice is shrill, he sighs loudly.
“We’ll have to make that trek every single day until we’re rescued. Water is the most important thing. No delivery service here, princess,” his voice is sleepy, the usual bite in his words softened by the need for sleep.
“How will anyone find us?” The worry is evident in your voice.
“I have a flare gun and three flares - we’ll be able to signal someone. Go to bed, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow.” He gestures to the helicopter–lovely, this will be comfortable.
—
The knock on the helicopter window ripped you out of sleep, your heart racing as you clutched at your chest.
“Wake up, princess.” He taps on the glass and through bleary eyes, you take note of the smile on his face as he wakes you up, “We have work to do.” He taps one last time and then leaves you.
You flash him the middle finger as he turns and laughs, annoying you even more.
You join him on the beach a little later, ignoring the ache in your body from sleeping in a half seated position. God I really need that massage.
“I’m going to make the trek for more water, while I do that you are going to gather palm fronds.” He had a jug in his hand as he moved towards the treeline. For a moment you panicked, the thought of being alone causing your heart to sink.
“Wait, you’re leaving me alone?” You moved a few steps towards him, catching yourself before making it to him. “I mean–um,” You raised your chin at the surprised look on his face, ignoring it. “How many fronds?” There was an abundance of them, both on the ground and in the trees just beyond the sand. He paused, giving you a curious look.
“As many as you can, we’ll need way more than you think.” He turned then, and left you to it.
Time crawled by while you were alone, with only your thoughts and the sound of waves to accompany you. Sweat dripped down your brow as you gathered, gathered and gathered some more. Enough fronds that it made a huge pile beside the fire pit Francisco had made. Your stomach growling almost constantly now–the hunger so intense it was making you light headed.
Branches snapped, drawing your gaze towards his form. He had the jug in one hand and a stalk of bananas in the other. It was enough to make you moan.
“This is good, but it’s not enough. We have to gather more - have to cut down a bunch of bamboo too.” He put the jug next to the others before joining you where you sat. “Here, you must be starving.” He ripped off a handful of the glorious fruit and tossed them into your lap.
Nothing had ever tasted so good.
“Jesus Christ, I thought I would pass out.” You knew you had fruit on your face, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. “Thank you.” You peeled another, eating it just as quickly as the first.
“Don’t mention it. Okay, let's get to work.”
-
Your fingers were sore, your back was sore, every single part of you was sore. Hours crawled by with the sun beating down on you both as you weaved fronds together. He had you create sheets and sheets of it, had you help him cut down enough bamboo to build a house. He did the heavy lifting and made what looked like a crude rope tying together the bamboo in layers strong enough to hold both of you.
Wordlessly, he worked, the sweat dripping down his face, soaking through his shirt like a marathon runner until it was a hindrance and he took it off, used it as a rag that hung limp over his shoulders. This was much worse than a marathon, though, much worse than any workout you’d ever done in your life, and although you’d never say it out loud, you were incredibly thankful he was here.
I probably would have died by now.
It was a terrifying thought that without him, you wouldn’t survive - you shoved it away. It wouldn’t matter soon because your parents would be looking, and they wouldn’t stop until they found you.
“Come lay on this, I want to see if it’ll hold both of us.” He stood over the platform, laying on it as you came closer. It held. “Perfect. We’ll be elevated off the sand, less chance of bugs or crabs biting us, and it’ll be cooler than the helicopter.” He let out a weary, tired sigh.
“You’re expecting us both to sleep on this?” You couldn’t help your tone, and instantly you felt bad. He’d worked very hard on this. His brow furrowed.
“You’re welcome to sleep where you want. I’ll be on this.” He got up, his scowl now back in place, “I’m going to finish here and then go fishing. Keep weaving.”
Quietly, you got back to work.
-
In all his years, Francisco had never met someone so spoiled and self-serving - even though he’d expected it from her, it still hurt. He didn’t know why - why it would matter that some spoiled rich brat was acting like a spoiled rich brat; maybe it was the lack of gratitude. He was useful, he was smart and he had skills that he knew for a fact she’d die without.
He stewed over it as he swam towards a large boulder protruding out of the water near the shore. A perfect spot to catch the fish that swam around in the reef below the surface.
I should let her starve. Find her own food and her own water.
He wouldn’t, though, he couldn’t. All his life, he’d been taught to be a good person, to help where he could and after what had happened in that jungle - he shook it off, pushed it down. Ignored the cruel, petty voice in his head and set about catching something to eat. All the while keeping an eye on the horizon for a boat - for any sign that people were looking for him. That his people were looking for him.
He let himself think about them, really think about them for the first time since the crash. His parents, his little girl, let himself feel the emptiness of being without them. He let the waves of it crash over him just as the ocean around him crashed into the shore, and then he put it away.
She was still working when he came back with his catch, her face scrunched up in concentration - ignoring her, he went about doing what needed to be done.
“Is this enough?” Her voice cut through his concentration, and he nodded noncommittally - leaving the prepped fish on a relatively clean piece of driftwood he’d found.
“Hold this.” He stood at the corner of the raised bed and had her hold a tall, sturdy piece of bamboo. His plan was to make a small frame around the base, use the tarp in order to waterproof it, and lay the fronds all around to protect them from the winds that blew through here in bad weather.
She watched him work in silence, standing where he told her to stand, holding what he told her to hold and eventually, finally - they finished. It was as solid a structure as he could manage without planks of wood or nails, strong enough to survive against a moderate storm and to keep them off the sand.
He’d used the tarp to cover the roof and three sides, leaving one open for them - him to enter. On top were rows of fronds to catch rainwater and prevent it from pooling in the tarp, the rest of the unused woven sheets she’d made laid inside to use as bedding. With the emergency blanket and his military bedroll this would make a decent bed.
All in all, he was proud of himself, he took the raw materials he’d found on this island, and fashioned himself – themselves a shelter.
His stomach growled. It was time to start that fire.
-
Your stomach was screaming out in hunger. The bananas had been wonderful, but they weren’t enough.
“Are you sure that’s safe to eat?” You watched him wrap the fish in banana leaves and put it into red hot embers; you couldn’t help but be slightly dubious about eating something he’d just pulled out of the ocean. He sighed loudly before answering.
“You don’t have to eat it,” he sounded tired, and you supposed he must have been with how hard he’d worked. “It’s edible. I’ve caught this fish before.” He wiped at his brow with the shirt around his shoulders, his skin slightly pink from the sun.
You didn’t say anything, still unsure, but when the time came for him to unwrap the blackened leaves, your stomach growled loudly. It looked very good.
He didn’t offer any, instead, he snatched a piece of the steaming, flaky fish and popped it into his mouth, relishing the taste with a loud groan and a big smile. A nice smile, in truth.
“Maybe I’ll try a little bit.” You scooted closer to where he sat in the sand, unable to resist it.
“Here, careful - it’s very hot.” He tore a piece of a fresh banana leaf and gave you a decently sized filet, and with singed fingers and zero patience, you took a bite.
It was, without a doubt, the most delicious thing you’d ever eaten.
“Good?” He ate quickly, his expression amused at your very obvious enjoyment of the ‘dubious’ fish.
“It’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever had.” You meant every word, and licked every last morsel off your fingers.
It was incredibly dark by the time the food was eaten, and the fire had died out. Francisco was attaching a piece of netting to the open side, and once he was done, he climbed in without another word.
The helicopter felt safe, enclosed and a space you could lock, but the shelter would have airflow. It would be infinitely cooler to sleep in. You knew that, eventually that helicopter would turn into a greenhouse that felt more like an oven. Not to mention how horrible it was to sleep sitting up.
Every second that passed made the shelter look more and more appealing, and after quickly changing into clean clothes, you slipped in silently, but it didn’t even matter, he was already asleep.
—
He woke to the feeling of soft breath on his back, the air was significantly cooler than it had been during midday, and now, in the early dawn of the morning she was seeking him out for warmth. It was in him to pull away, to deny her, but instead, he stayed motionless. Let her even breath comfort him for a few moments before he eventually rose to bathe in the ocean. Her hand was draped around his middle, pressing herself flat to him while she slept, completely oblivious.
He thought about how scandalized she’d be to know she was being so intimate with him; it almost made him laugh, but soon, that internalized mirth shifted to something bitter, something close to anger. He was only too aware that when she looked at him, she saw ‘the help’; someone like her could never see him as anything other than someone else to pay off, the person hired to do things below her. She shifted in her sleep, burrowing closer, her soft puffs of air ruffling the hair curling at the base of his skull.
Why does that bother me? I don’t even care about this person.
He sighed, confused with himself over these baffling feelings of inadequacy, frustrated that being close to another person felt good. Annoyed that he didn’t want to pull away - no matter how much of a brat she was. If she woke now and saw them tangled, she’d be embarrassed, perhaps even disgusted, he knew this for a certainty. So he left her.
-
Dawn found you almost frustratingly well-rested, as well as alone. All doubts that may have lingered about the craftsmanship of the shelter evaporated like the morning dew. A long, much-needed stretch is the catalyst that moves you out of the shelter, making sure to close the netting on your way to grab your toiletry bag when he catches your eye from his place in the water. The early morning sun lit up the surface like diamonds. He was running his hands through his hair, wringing out the shirt he’d been wearing the day before. His skin was golden, the high planes of his face kissed by the sun's rays, his shoulders too. You watched him for a time, unable to ignore the breadth of his shoulders - the pleasant sight of his thighs and it was hard not to stare at him when he rose out of the water, the droplets from his golden skin casting a sort of spell on their way back down to earth.
His hands were something else altogether, weaving their own magic the closer he came to shore, from the way they wrung out the shirt easily to the way they adjusted his considerable bulge as he walked, and you looked away quickly, ignoring the curious heat crawling up your chest.
He found you brushing your teeth, pointedly looking away.
“I’m going to go look for more fruit.” He spoke as he put the wrung-out shirt to dry next to some of the other things he’d washed before changing out of his wet boxers behind the cover of the helicopter. “You should gather more firewood, things to burn for tonight.” When he came back around, he was dressed in a clean white tee and a pair of shorts. Looking for all the world like a man on vacation.
“I’m coming with you.” You rose from your place in the sand quickly, shuffling to reach him before he left you. “I’d rather not wait around.”
“Fine, come on then.” With that, you both set off into the trees.
The morning was full of birdsong and sunlight, bright buttery shafts of it cutting through the trees while the former echoed around you.
“This would be a gorgeous place to vacation.” He echoed your thoughts as you followed a faint path in the brush.
“I guess, would need a vast improvement.” Like a hotel, and an actual landing strip maybe. He laughed low, his eyes looking high into the trees.
“I don’t know, I don’t mind it being a bit rustic.” He pointed ahead, a few coconut trees catching his attention.
“This is more than a bit rustic I’d say. God I can’t wait until my parents find me. I should be by the pool right now, mingling with Louis.” Your palm smacks against the first of surely many bites rising on your skin.
“That your boyfriend?” He’s serious now, scooping a couple of coconuts from the floor and dropping them into your arms.
“No, but he should be. He’s an insanely wealthy man my father invited to our private island, where I should be right now.” You sighed loudly, annoyed at the situation all over again. “Soon. Soon, I will be back where I belong. God, my mother is probably worried sick, you know?” You stood there, holding onto the coconuts he stacked in your arms before moving on to find more fruit.
“Sure.” He all but grunts, moving carefully through the brush. “I get it-“
“I wouldn’t be surprised if the military is out searching for me right now.” An image of handsome Louis frantically joining the search with your parents makes your stomach flip.
I wonder if he is worried about me?
“Focus.” His voice rips you out of your daydream. “Let’s grab some more bananas, and head back.” He seems annoyed - he’s always annoyed.
“I hate this.” Your arms ache from holding the heavy coconuts. “Shouldn’t we be building a signal fire or something?” You can hear the whining tone, but you can’t stop it. Must everything be so hard?
“And just what are we meant to signal? Seen a bunch of planes, have you?” His tone is icy, his expression angry. “Cruise ships sailing by us every hour?” He finds a banana tree and cuts down a stalk, his movements aggressive.
“Well no-“
“Exactly. We’re on our own, which means until the military or whoever is looking for you finds this island- we have to work.” He props the bananas against his shoulder and turns back towards the camp, pointedly ignoring the way you struggle to keep up with him.
-
You’re already covered in sweat by the time you make it back to camp, breathing hard and soaking through your clothes.
“Jesus Christ, I cannot with these things.” You dump the coconuts next to the water jugs, shaking out your aching limbs. He sets the bananas next to them before moving to grab some firewood from the tree line. Your eyes scan the beach, the waves gently lapping at the shore; it would be pretty enough without the eye sore that is the helicopter.
“I cannot wait to be away from this hunk of junk.” His movements stop at your words.
“That hunk of junk was my entire fucking livelihood. I don’t have a rich daddy to just buy me a new one.” He tosses the wood pieces angrily into the pit, ignoring the recoil his tone inspired. “Not everyone has it so easy, princess.”
“No, I guess they don’t, sorry-“ he spoke over you.
“Forget it.” He let out a sigh. “Let’s just do what we can to survive until someone finds us.” His expression was cold, and you can’t help the guilt that blooms in the pit of your stomach.
“Sounds good.” The rest of the day passed by in silence.
—
The days both fly, and crawl by and Frankie works each and every one of them. He works to find them food, he works to reinforce their shelter - to make them as comfortable as he possibly can, all while trying his hardest not to lose his mind. The picture of his little girl burned a hole in his heart when he looked at it each night. He only hoped she knew he’d come back to her.
Being stuck on an island by himself would have been bad enough; the loneliness, the isolation would no doubt be detrimental to his mental health, to his hopes of being found, but this? This had to be worse.
She helped, but only because he pushed her to. He knew that if it were up to her - they would have long since starved. He watched her as he braided more palm fronds to pad the sleeping platform, she was washing some of the clothes she’d worn as best she could, and he couldn’t help but admit that she was pretty. Her face was pleasant to look at when her nose wasn’t turned up. He can’t help but like the shape of her, imagining her skin would be soft and silky - he’d definitely been on this island too long.
Doesn’t matter how attractive she is, she doesn’t want you, and you don’t want her.
He didn’t know if he was reminding himself, or convincing himself.
A noise in the treeline behind him stops him mid-braid and for a moment, he thinks there might be someone else on the island, but he realizes what it is and grabs his knife. If he plays this right, tonight they’d eat like kings.
-
A new appreciation was born of having to wash your own clothes, for electricity, for washing machines and dryers, for Tide pods. For the maids who did your laundry and for the people who did your drycleaning, for the neat drawers full of clean clothes waiting at home.
For now, these would have to do. They wouldn’t smell like your favourite fabric softener, but they’d be clean enough to wear here at least. Francisco had set up a makeshift laundry line from the helicopter to a leaning palm tree, his things hanging as you added your own, and you briefly considered folding his things for him when his absence caught your attention.
“Francisco?” you called out to him, ignoring the way your heart raced. Usually, when he went off to get water or fruit, he let you know; it was unlike him to leave without a word. There had to be a reason. He wouldn’t just abandon you, would he?
Grab a hold of yourself, where the hell would he even go?
He crashed through the trees, triumphant and laughing, and you shoved away the altogether too-big feeling of relief that washed over you to see him.
“Good news, Princess, there’s wild boar on the island.” It was the happiest you’d seen him, well, ever. “It’ll be hard, but I think I can catch one.” He was making his way towards his supplies, and very quickly, the relief turned to dread. “We’re going to feast-”
“You’re going to kill a wild pig?” It was very hard to keep the worry out of your tone, or off your face.
“What’s the matter, never had pork chops?” He frowned now, his hands on his hips facing you.
“I mean, yeah, but this is a little different than going to a butcher and grabbing a few chops. You’re going to hunt down the animal and kill it? I’m not into that. I don’t know if I could eat it.” He narrowed his eyes at you, no doubt preparing to rip you a new one. “It’s also incredibly dangerous - they have a tendency to gore people.” His expression changed at that, real consequences seemed to get through to him.
“I mean, it’s not that different, but fine.” The wind had gone out of his sails, “I’ll see if I can catch something in the water - you okay with that?” He grabbed his fishing gear, raising an eyebrow, and you nodded before he made his way towards the water. You knew he was probably cursing you for ruining whatever he imagined cooking, but still, you couldn’t help but consider it a victory.
Babe, the pig wouldn’t be dying on your watch, and neither would he. Instead, he returned to the camp a few hours later with a fish, a few crabs, and a look that said you better not have any complaints. You didn’t. None that you’d say out loud anyway.
Dinner was a quiet affair, tasty and filling with the fish and the added protein; you both went to sleep full, and ungored.
-
Something loud dragged you up and out of the haze of sleep. It was still dark, and the sun had not risen yet. The sound was definitely something loud - probably just a plane. You shot up, scrambling out of the shelter to see if what you were hearing was real, Francisco barely moved.
It was high up, but it was definitely a plane.
“Francisco! There’s a plane. Where are the flares?” You all but barrelled into the shelter to shake him out of his dreams.
“Hmmm, tired baby.” He was out of it but strong when he pulled you closer - you ignored the way your stomach flipped on its ass at his pet name.
“Francisco, let me go, there’s a plane!” You smacked at his face lightly, just enough to wake him up.
“Huh? A plane?” your words broke through his sleep-addled brain, and he shot up. “What kind of plane?” He was out and grabbing at his bag momentarily before he swore loudly, a sigh filling the quiet of the dawn. “You called me for a commercial plane? You didn’t actually fire a flare, did you?” The blood drained from his face momentarily.
“No, I would have, but I didn’t know where you put the flare gun.” You frowned at him, annoyed. “I thought they’d see it.”
“Thank Christ.” He took a deep breath, his hands on his hips, “That Is a commercial flight, and if you’d fired the flare, it would have not only been a waste of a flare, but you could have burned the shelter down, could have ruined our supplies.” He seemed angry, and that, in turn, pissed you off.
“I didn’t think about that, I was trying to help-“ You crossed your arms, ignoring the annoyed look on his face.
“With the altitude that plane has, it wouldn’t matter if we had a thousand flares; come to me before you try to signal anyone, got it Princess?” He didn’t wait for a response, instead, he got back into bed and didn’t mention the incident again.
You got back into the shelter, laying in the pre-dawn glow - conflicting feelings fighting for dominance within you. You stared at his back, at the soft curl of hair he wore like a halo, and the fluttering of your stomach won out for just a moment. The solid press of him holding you close while still asleep was strangely welcome, although you’d never admit it. His condescending tone came to mind then, he had a habit of speaking down to you, and while you could admit you weren’t the most knowledgeable in survival, you still deserved to be spoken to like an adult.
You fell asleep fighting the urge to both press yourself close, and smack him upside the head.
-
When morning well and truly came, it found you both in a terrible mood.
He was quiet, much like he always was when he was annoyed, so you left him with his thoughts and set off to find more fruit through the path you’d both taken to traveling every few days. Luckily, the island was bountiful, and there were plenty of bananas, coconuts, and even some mangoes, but there was only so much you could take and you decided to venture out a bit further, keeping your eyes peeled for something different.
After a while, you found a berry bush, a small variety you didn’t recognize at once, but they were a very gorgeous, deep purple colour. Thinking he might appreciate a change as much as you, you picked a few handfuls and wrapped them up in a banana leaf before continuing your scavenging.
This was where your luck ran out, however, and if there were other varieties of fruit, they weren’t for you to find. Instead, you picked up a few mangoes and a coconut on your way back.
You found him looking through his things from the helicopter, a scowl on his face.
“Hey, I found some berries-” He looked up at the sound of your voice, his brow furrowed at the smile on your face. “I figured you were probably getting sick of the same fruit we’d been eating. I was hoping to find something else, but no luck.” You set them down in front of him.
“You didn’t eat this, did you?” his voice was curt and you frowned.
“No, I thought we could share them-”
“These are toxic.” He tossed them into the sand, burying them with a heavy sigh. “Do me a favour and don’t grab shit you don’t know for sure is edible. You could have made us really sick.” He turned then and continued with his inventory. Embarrassment and annoyance burned through your veins.
“You don’t have to be such an asshole about it, you know.” The words came on almost by themselves, bubbling up in your throat at the sanctimonious look on his face.
“What?” He paused and turned to look you in the face.
“You don’t have to be so fucking mean to me all the time.” You crossed your arms, holding in the frustration that seemed to expand in your lungs like a horrible balloon. “All you do is talk down to me. I said I was sorry about almost using the flare-” He huffed out an almost amused laugh and it boiled your blood. “It’s not funny! I’m stuck out here with you and all you do is yell, or talk to me like I’m stupid. I’m a person, and I deserve basic human decency-”
“What’s my last name?” He crossed his arms, his voice calm, but his question stole the words right out of your mouth.
“What?”
“You heard me - what is my last name? What do you know about me? Aside from the fact that my first name is Francisco, and that I’m a pilot.” He stood, knocking the sand off his shorts.
“I don’t think you told me-”
“No, I haven’t - do you know anything about who might be looking for me? Do you have any idea if I have anyone waiting for me to get home?” Your stomach sank, the anger slowly bleeding away and being replaced with shame. “Any idea if I’m married, or if I have kids?” He’s angry now, the scowl bigger than ever before.
“No, I-I don’t know.” You took a step back.
“No. No, you don’t. You don’t know that I’m divorced, that my parents are probably worried sick. You don’t know that I have a daughter, that her name is Tatiana, and that she’s probably thinking her dad abandoned her, or worse - that he’s dead.” You recoiled at that.
“I didn’t know you had a daughter.” Your voice feels small, and the shame in your belly grows, vines of guilt wrapping themselves around your throat.
“How could you? You’ve never fucking asked me a single thing about who I am as a person! All you’ve done is complain. Complain and talk to me endlessly about how much money your parents have, how you should be on a private island, and how much of a fucking eyesore my livelihood is, and any time I’ve opened my mouth to respond or explain how we’re both stuck here, you’ve spoken over me.” His words cut at you - you don’t know this man at all, and you never ever cared to ask. You don’t respond.
He was well and truly angry now, kicking sand away from himself in his frustration.
“I’m sorry-” He put his hands up.
“Don’t. I don’t need you to apologize. I need you to pull your weight, and maybe realize that I’m also a person, and that all your money means jackshit to me. I need you to treat me like a human being, not just a sounding board.” He walked away, leaving you with your guilt - a sad balloon deflating alone.
-
They were both quiet that night. With Francisco, it was mostly out of anger. The feelings of inadequacy and frustration he’d been bottling up had finally been spoken aloud, and now he was processing them, all while still being stuck on this godforsaken island.
For her, he could see it was pure guilt. From the subdued expression, from her quiet words and general withdrawal, he knew no one had ever been so honest with her before. He would have almost felt guilty, if he hadn’t been so annoyed and hurt at the way she’d treated him. Instead, they both avoided each other for the rest of the night - a silent shared meal before wordlessly falling asleep in the shelter.
He woke the next morning to the feeling of her pressed against him again.
Her deep, even breaths against the back of his neck were embarrassingly welcome, and he ignored the way his body responded. He let out a low, deep sigh, grateful that he was facing away, a shudder passing through his body at the thought of having to explain why he was as hard as a rock.
His hand traveled down to where her leg was draped over his hip, unable to resist feeling her skin for just a moment before he slowly untangled their limbs, and made his way towards the water.
—
Days passed, and they passed without much conversation. This particular morning was somehow even more quiet despite the constant sound of waves lapping at the shore. The anger had fizzled out, and what was left was more akin to silent resignation. The two of you danced around each other, performing what were now everyday tasks without uttering a single word. The hours slipping by wordlessly, that is, until your scream cut through the silence.
“What is it?” He was at your side quickly, his eyes wide with something that looked suspiciously like worry.
“I think I stepped on a shell-” The sand around your foot was turning pink, your eyes widening at the sight.
“Okay, take a deep breath and sit here-” He guided you with surprisingly soft hands towards one of the logs around the burned-out fire. “Don’t move - try to keep your foot out of the sand.” He stood then, walking away.
“Where are you going?” Your voice sounded strange, almost whiny, and you ignored the little pang of despair.
Get a hold of yourself.
“Just going to get the first aid kit.” The cut throbbed as you waited, and soon he returned with one of the water bottles and a big red case. He walked with purpose, the look on his face shamed you to have been so clueless. This was a man that had obviously dealt with many a scraped knee. “Okay, let's see what we’re dealing with.”
He kneeled on the sand before you, taking your foot into his hands. You hissed when he softly brushed the sand away.
“Tsk, come on now Princess. I know you can be braver for me than that.” His hands were soft, and so was his tone, and it filled you with something, comfort amongst other, less wholesome thoughts. You shook them away, chewing on your bottom lip, watching as he played nurse. “Nothing too crazy, just a little cut.”
He rinsed the sand carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“Okay, this might sting a little.” He rifled through the open case beside him, grabbing a little pack of what looked to be antiseptic. “Deep breath for me.” He watched you then, waiting until you let the breath go before wiping the wound clean. The sting almost slapped you across the face, every instinct screaming to pull your foot away from the mean man.
“Okay, okay - you’re okay.” his hands engulfed your ankle, holding you firmly in place. “Good job, we’re almost done.” he spoke low, opening up a waterproof bandaid and carefully covering the tiny wound. “There we go. All done.” He pressed a small kiss to the top of your foot, his eyes widening after. “Sorry- force of habit.” He laughed awkwardly.
“Thank you. It feels much better.” You felt the heat in your chest and in your ears and ignored it, ignored the whole mess of feelings blooming in your gut for him.
“Yeah, sure.” He collected his things before scratching at the back of his neck and it thrilled you to realize that he looked as flushed as you felt. “I’m going to go catch something.” He got up quickly, moving with purpose away from where you sat, curtailing any further discussion.
-
He hadn’t expected it, but she’d taken his words to heart. He’d felt terrible after going off on her. The embarrassment on her face at how she’d treated him, although completely warranted, pulled at his heartstrings. He couldn’t exactly say why - it wasn’t something he could explain, not something he wanted to delve into. Whether that was for his benefit or hers, he couldn’t be sure.
She no longer had to be told to fetch fruit, or water. She did her best to keep the camp organized, she no longer spoke about her wealth, or Louis. She was quiet most of the time, in fact, and he wasn’t sure if it was better, or worse.
Where she mostly avoided his annoyance throughout the day, she still clung to him at night. He never told her, convincing himself it was to spare her further embarrassment, ignoring the little part of him that knew it was because he was terrified that if she knew, she’d stop.
-
Things were different, that was for sure. The days passed and you had to admit to yourself that you’d been such an ungrateful, horrid little - well, Princess. He’d been completely right about you, and he’d had the patience of a saint. You saw him with different eyes now. You saw a competent, strong, intelligent man who up until now, was the only reason you’d survived on this godforsaken island as long as you had. It was well and truly humbling.
Instead of complaining, now you did your best to pull your weight. The goal was to show him that you were grateful, that you weren’t just some spoiled rich girl, that you could be something other than that, anyway. You wanted - needed to prove to him that you weren’t a burden.
-
It had been a particularly hot day, the sun beating down on the both of you with a vengeance. Sunset couldn’t come fast enough, and once it did, you cherished it like never before.
He dug around in the helicopter while you sat on the log, enjoying the tiny, but very welcome breeze coming off the water.
“Oh wow, I forgot about this,” You heard the smile in his voice, “How would you feel about a drink?” He held a bottle in his hand, making his way over to your place in the sand.
“I’d feel great actually, if you don’t mind sharing.”
“Bottle’s almost full, more than enough for both of us.” He sat next to you, taking a generous sip of the amber liquid before handing it to you. It was warmer than you would have liked, but the burn was pleasant enough that you didn’t care. “Good, right?” His smile is as breezy as the ocean, and just as welcome.
“Very good,” you couldn't help but admit before taking another long sip, “I can already feel it.” You smiled, handing it back to him.
“We’ll be cheap drunks tonight, that’s for sure.” He took another long swallow, and you couldn’t help but stare at the way his throat worked. You watched the fire instead, focusing on the embers as the drink settled in your stomach. The heat spreads through your limbs, making you feel heavy where you sit beside him.
You both sat in silence for a time, passing the bottle back and forth until most of it was gone, and your head felt like a balloon barely tethered to your body.
“This would be such a beautiful place…without the whole ‘being stranded’ thing.” He held the bottle loosely, his eyes no doubt taking in the gorgeous sunset.
“You mean you don’t love being stuck out here with me?” You bumped his shoulder, and it vaguely registers how much you missed physical touch. He laughed, full-throated.
“Oh yeah, this is definitely heaven.” His expression is exaggerated, “You know what I mean.” He gestures to where the water laps at the shore. “This is a paradise, just needs a resort, and an airport.” He sighed, his mood is the friendliest you’ve ever seen.
“Yeah, it would definitely make a difference.” You leaned back and listened to the water. “Happy you’re here though, woulda died without you.” You didn’t mean to say it, but it’s absolutely true.
“Oh, I don’t know-” He shrugged, modest and much kinder than you deserved.
“Yes, you do-” You shoved at his arm softly, “You’re the only reason we’re still alive, super nice to me despite the fact that I can be a spoiled little brat.” You laughed.
“Can’t argue with that.” He laughed, “I like brats, though.” He smiled, and something that feels very much like butterflies fluttered around in your stomach. He didn't say anything else, and neither did you, the butterflies lingered, though, well into the night, and they only seemed to get stronger whenever his eyes found yours.
“It’s getting late-” He puts the bottle down, “-we should get some rest.”
You nodded, not trusting your voice, instead, you just followed him towards the shelter.
It’s a strange, unfamiliar dance you’re both doing - the polar opposite of how things have been between you. Shy smiles replace cold stares, and a curious longing takes hold of you. It would embarrass you to fall prey to your baser instincts - there’s something in the way his eyes tracked you that says you weren’t alone in your feelings.
-
Something has shifted, he can feel it in the tense energy between them. A pleasant buzz flowed through his veins, danced along his nerves like a current, beat through his heart, and into his loins. She was so close, he could practically feel her warmth.
She sighed beside him, her legs rubbing together like a cricket and he knew in his gut, she felt the same energy.
“Good night, Frankie.” She whispered the words, as though someone might overhear. His eyes clenched shut at the feel of her breath ruffling through his hair, closer than she’d ever let herself get, awake anyway.
“Night-” Everything in him wanted to turn over, to feel her fingers ruffle through his hair, but something held him back. He stayed still, his body tense despite how relaxed the alcohol had made him.
“It’s a bit cold–” Her voice is a bit closer, so close he felt it in the shell of his ear, “-okay if I scoot closer?” Her hands pressed against his back, her legs tangled with his, and he knows in his bones, it’s just a ploy, but he stayed still nonetheless.
“Sure-get close.” He took her hand and wrapped it around his middle, holding it well above his waist, letting out a deep breath.
“Oh-okay.” She pressed her face into his shoulder, and every cell in his body screamed at him to turn around, to kiss her, bury his tongue in her mouth, and then trail it down, bury it between her legs, but he shook his head, convincing himself she just wants this.
“Night.” His voice cracked, but he said nothing more. He felt her staring at him, letting out a little sigh of her own.
“Night, Frankie.”
—
The days following your drunken night passed by in mostly silence, with a polite avoidance from him, and an annoyed quiet from you.
It was no secret that you had the power to annoy the hell out of him, but you’d thought there’d been something else. The look in his eye when he’d told you he liked brats, the sound of his voice when he’d held you close, the considerable boner pressing against your ass when you’d woken up to him wrapped around you that next morning.
Maybe you’d misread him, maybe it wasn’t flirting, maybe he’d just been stroking your ego, being nice to you, and you’d practically thrown yourself at him only to be.. What? Ignored?
-
The wind whipped around as you both ate dinner a few quiet days later, the sky dark and pregnant with the promise of a heavy rain, filling you with worry. The shelter was sturdy, you knew that, but you didn’t think it would hold up against a storm like the one that had blown you both onto the island to begin with.
“I don’t think we’ll be enjoying a fire tonight,” His eyes stared at the sky, same as you, “we should bring the clothes into the shelter; it’s going to pour soon.” He got up, tossing his banana peels into the fire pit just as the first few drops of water sprinkled down on top of you.
A nervous current flowed through your body as you made yourself comfortable within the shelter, making you acutely aware of his closeness.
The rain came down in sheets as you both lay there, filling the silence with its rhythmic pattering against the tarp. Lightning flashed, illuminating the space between you. A shiver ran through you at the look on his face.
“You okay?” His hand shot out, landing softly on your arm, raising goosebumps as it slid down towards your elbow.
“I’m fine.” You shudder, but all at once, annoyance springs up at his rejection the other night - you turn to give him your back.
“Are you… angry at me?”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes.
“Why would I be angry at you? It’s not like I threw myself at you or anything.”
“What?” His voice sounded incredulous, “You mean, when we were drinking?”
“Yes!” You sighed, “I was all over you. I guess I was wrong.” All at once, you’re embarrassed, and desperate to get away from his incredulous expression. The storm, however, holds you both hostage.
“Hm.” He sounded almost amused, and your stomach dropped, “Well, if I’d known that all you needed was to be fucked, things would have been different.”
Your stomach did a backflip onto its ass, shock, and pure adrenaline coursing through your body at his words. You turned slowly to face him.
“Sorry?” It came out almost stupidly, and he smiled a very self-satisfied smile.
“I said, if I’d known, that in order for you to stop being such a brat,” He moved in closer, forcing you to lay back and make space for him between your legs. “All you needed was for me to fuck you, I would have done it sooner.” He hovered above you, close enough that he must’ve surely felt your heart pounding where his chest met yours. It’s with Herculean strength, that you composed yourself, albeit nervously.
“Well, I guess I just thought you were more perceptive.” The bold words were completely at odds with the tremor in your voice; he laughed, full-throated, and it sent a current across every inch of you.
“Or maybe, I thought you’d open that pretty mouth of yours, and say what it is you wanted.” He pressed forward, dragging his lips across your jaw before capturing your mouth in a kiss. It started soft, and for a moment, the storm disappeared, your hands finding themselves tangled up in his messy waves, and then his tongue pressed forward, and it pulled a moan from somewhere deep inside you.
There was no more talking. Only the feeling of your heart racing, your cunt aching, and his comforting weight pressing you into the shelter, that is, before he shifted his hips and the considerable heft of him was slotted perfectly against where you needed him most.
The slip of his warm palm from the trembling skin of your belly raised goosebumps in its wake, and pulled a gasp from your mouth into his when it glided under your shit and landed on your breast. Those deft fingers you’d seen working away on all manner of things on this island, now plucked deliciously at your nipple.
It was almost violent, both the storm outside, and your haste to divest him of his clothes. The need to feel that golden skin on yours was a hunger pang, both terrible and euphoric, that burned as brightly as the flashes of lightning that lit up the shelter. His eyes shone with the same intensity you felt, and instantly, he moved away to help you, too, the two of you scrambling with a ferocity that bordered on anger.
“God, you’re so fucking hot–” He hissed the words onto your face before kissing you again, and any softness was gone, his teeth clicked against yours before his tongue took yours and laid down the law. Your skin burned with want, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back before you moved your hand down between you to finally grasp his cock. He pulled away from your mouth to stare down where you held onto him, drunk with the sight of just how big he looked in your grip.
“Is this what you’ve been wanting?” He held himself above you, watching as you stroked him slowly.
“God, yes, I wanted this - I want you to fuck me–” you swiped your thumb over the head, fat pearly drops of his own arousal making it slippery, “I want you to come inside me, make me feel good-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence before his mouth claimed yours once more and pulled your hand away in order to slip himself between the lips of your sex, coating himself in you for a moment before he finally slipped inside.
“Jesus Christ, man.” You breathed the words onto his face at the stretch, at the way he seemed to have taken up every inch of space inside you, making you overflow with him. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, his hips snapping in a toe-curling rhythm. For a few minutes, there were no more words left, the only thing you can manage is to whimper, then moan in earnest when he ducked his head down to capture a nipple in his mouth. Your fingers like talons in his hair, keeping him close to your breast while your cunt soaked him in your want.
He let go of the perky bud with a pop, his eyes glazed.
“Fuck baby, I’m gonna come so fast,” he almost slurred his words, pussy drunk, “your tight little cunt is gonna make me fucking come–” He sped up, his cock punching into you hard enough to make your breasts bounce, hard enough to make a lewd noise where you’re joined and you desperately wanted him to slow down so you can catch up.
“Wait–” Your legs squeezed where they’d hitched up high on his hips, “Frankie–” His rhythm stuttered for a moment before he thrust again, deep, filling you with his come, and you almost cried at the thought that he might be done so soon.
“Fuck-” He ground himself as deep as he could, milking himself inside you for a moment before pulling away abruptly, hissing through the oversensitivity to look at his handiwork, “that’s so fucking pretty baby, look at me dripping out-” He smiled at you, almost laughing at the look of anguish on your face at the emptiness, “what’s wrong?” His hand rubbed at your belly for a moment before it slipped down, and two big fingers filled you back up. “I know you didn’t come, but you don’t think I’m just going to leave you like this, right?” He pumped slowly, making you keen when he pressed against something holy inside of you. “No, I got you, baby.”
One moment he was kneeling between your legs, and the next, he was flat on his belly, his face pressed up against your pussy, tongue right on the button of your clit.
The moan you let out was obscene. His tongue circled your clit with devastating precision, over and over again, until you were staring down at him with your mouth open, begging and praying incoherently for him to keep going just like that. His eyes were bright, laser-focused on you just like his tongue, and his free hand came up to hold onto your breast, pinching at your nipple, and all of a sudden, the sting snapped, the wave crested, and you practically folded in half, swearing loudly as you gushed around his fingers.
-
You weren’t sure how much time passed, but the storm got a little stronger, and louder as you both lay in the shelter, quiet and content to hold each other. Lightning turned the darkened skies into day for a moment before the boom of thunder shook you to your core.
“It’s okay, just loud.” He said it softly into your ear with the same patience he’d had when he bandaged your foot, the comforting words dads usually used for their children.
“I know, it just startled me.”
“Force of habit.”
“Your daughter, is she scared of thunderstorms?” You turned towards him, making yourself comfortable in his embrace.
“Only at first.” His smile was wistful, “She always jumps from the first big boom but then laughs,” his eyes crinkled, and it was hard not to notice just how handsome he is, the care and love he has for his daughter shining out through his eyes. “Sorry, I just miss her a lot.” It faltered, that handsome smile, and it made you sad for him.
“Don’t be sorry. I can’t imagine how hard all this must be for you.” Guilt swirled in your chest at the way you’d treated him before, at your general attitude towards everyone up until getting stranded. “I’m sorry about how I was–” He shook his head no, much too kind, kinder than you deserved, and you pushed through.
“No, let me say it. I’m sorry about how I treated you - I was horrible.”
“You weren’t that bad.”
“Yes, I was, so spoiled and insensitive, I didn’t even give your situation a second thought. All I cared about was myself and I can’t even believe it now. I’m sorry. I’m really lucky to have you here.”
“Thank you,” he smiled, one of his palms rubbing your back soothingly, “you’ve definitely had a big turnaround.” He laughed, and you smacked his arm playfully. “I’m lucky you’re here too. I would have been miserable by myself.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but sigh at the simple comfort human touch could bring. “Not sure you would have ever agreed to go out with me had we not been stuck here together.”
His words were light, and for a moment, you wanted to protest, but you didn’t think you could, and it shamed you further.
“Oh god, what a moron I was.” You groaned, pressing your face into the warm skin of his neck.
“You weren’t a moron, maybe a little oblivious, and I don’t mean that in a cruel way. You and I are in very different circles. I doubt our paths would have even crossed, but I’m glad they did because as much as you have the power to drive me nuts, I really like you.” His hands continued their comforting sweep across your skin, lulling you into the most relaxed state you could remember being in, in a long time.
“I would have been an idiot to not give you a chance. You’re so sweet and smart, and so strong, so fucking handsome, too. You take care of me and make me laugh, and you have done your best to keep us both safe and sound and I’m just - I’m ashamed that maybe in the past I would have been too shallow and stuck up to notice.” The storm abates as you confess some feelings you’d been harboring.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. I think I probably would have dismissed you just as quickly for similarly shallow reasons. As gorgeous as you are, I most likely would have written you off as some rich trust fund-baby.” He half-shrugged.
“I’m still sorry. It’s because of me that we’re here.”
“I could have said no.”
“I pressured you with money. I pushed even though you’d said it was unsafe.”
“I still could have said no. Let’s just forget it all, everything that happened before we got here. Point is we’re here, and we have to keep it together until someone finds us.” His hand kept its rhythm, sweeping over any and all skin, casting its spell of comfort until both it and the storm lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep.
-----
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#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#francisco morales#frankie morales#triple frontier au#frankie x reader#frankie morales x you#francisco morales x reader#francisco catfish morales#frankie catfish morales
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Can you do like more big reader things? Like we need more big reader stories! 😔
Look At Yourself
Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X plus size/chubby Female Reader
Synopsis: After going to a party with Chris, Y/N’s feelings are hurt, and there’s nothing like a bathroom pep talk that won’t fix it all!👥
Warnings⚠️: SMUTTTT. I’m not a Chris girl, so idk why I be giving it my all when it comes to smut for him. I haven’t posted in 6 days, so I had to eat this one up. Hope you enjoyyyy
Song for the imagine: Objects in the Mirror- Mac Miller
⚠️This is an 18+ story, so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️
Someone like you is so hard to find
You can open up your eyes, or you can walk in blind
All I ask is that you hurry, I won’t hurt you
Don’t your worry
“You, me, music and drinks….sounds like the best time ever” Chris replied brushing his hands through my hair
“That does sound like lots of fun” I say looking over my shoulder at him
“Atta girl” he said tapping my chin with a closed fist
“Are Nick and Matt going?” I asked as I folded the laundry
“Of course they are” he said helping me fold
“Oh perfect so when you ditch me I’ll have them” I said looking at him again
“What? Me ditch you? Never” he said raising his brow at me
“Mmm I don’t know Chris….you tend to wander off and leave me stranded” I said
“Okay that was like one time” he said scoffing
“Mmm more like three times” I said giggling
“Whatever. I mean if you plan on wearing that black dress I bought you I won’t leave your side. Your ass looks so good in it” he said biting his lip
“You creep” I said throwing a shirt at his face
“HEY” he yelled throwing himself over the laundry basket to tackle me
“Chrisss get off” I said laughing
“NEVERRRR” he yelled holding me down
“STOPPP” I yelled giggling as he kissed all over my face
“I can’t my love for you is too strong” he said kissing my face aggressively
“Well put the love away” I said pushing him back
“Fine fine” he said backing off and pulling me up with him
“I love you so much” he said winking at me
“I love you more” I said tapping his nose with my finger
“Go get ready I’ll finish the laundry” he said
“Are you sure?” I asked him
“Yes babe I’m sure” he said shooing me
“Okay thank you baby” I said kissing him and hopping off the bed
I had spent the next two hours getting ready, and now it was time to get dressed. A moment I was dreading. Chris had got me this beautiful black silky dress a while back, and I never wore it. One day he went snooping through our closet and found it again, and began begging me to wear it. I finally gave in and said I’d wear it at the next event we would go to.
I didn’t expect an event to pop up so soon, and wish I bit my tongue making that promise. Don't get me wrong the dress was stunning, but since getting it for me I put on a little more weight, and I wasn’t happy with the way it hung to certain parts of my body.
Chris worshiped my body every damn day, and he never made me feel less than what I am. However that didn’t change how I felt about myself in my head. I mean I always knew I was a bigger girl, but when Chris started dating me his “fans” made sure I knew I was a bigger girl.
I mean I was very comfortable in my own skin and loved myself, but I often had those days of wishing I looked different, and not understanding how Chris picked me out of everyone else. He always told me that he didn’t care about what I looked like on the outside, and that it only mattered what was on the inside. But some days it was hard to believe that narrative.
“Babe, do I have to wear the dress?” I asked looking at Chris
“That was the promise wasn’t it?” He said sliding his shirt on
“I mean yeah, but I don’t know” I said looking over at the dress hanging up
“Don’t know about what?” He said furrowing his brows
“I mean it’s just….Ive put on weight since you got me that dress” I said looking at him
“So?” He said tilting his head at me
“Well it just hangs on to too much, and I feel fat” I said chewing my bottom lip
“Hey what did I tell you about using that word? What does it matter if you put on more weight? We’re in a happy relationship, and plus it means I feed my girl good” he said winking at me
“Yeah a bit too good” I said putting my hands on my hips
“Listen, you look beautiful no matter what. And that dress does not make you look fat okay? But if you don’t want to wear it then that’s okay too” he said coming up to me and placing his hands on my cheeks
“You know what I’ll put it on, and if I feel ugly in it then I’ll wear something else” I replied to him
“That works for me gorgeous” he said pecking my lips
I slid the dress on, and looked in the mirror. I mean it did indeed snatch me in more, but it just accentuated too much of my stomach region, and I wasn’t too happy about it.
I walked out to show Chris and his eyes lit up
“Damn baby that shit looks even better now” he said walking over to me
“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better” I said rolling my eyes
“I don’t lie, you know this. You look jaw dropping, show stopping I mean you look so good” he said walking around me
“I’ll wear it Chris” I said looking at him
“If you don’t want to you don’t have to” he said hugging me from behind
“No I’m going to face my fears and wear it” I said nodding my head
“That’s my girl” he said gripping my ass and kissing my shoulder
We had all headed out to the party. To be honest I wasn’t even sure what the party was for, but Chris seemed excited about it.
When we arrived we all made our rounds saying hi to everyone, and Nick and Matt eventually broke off to hang with different people. I stood with Chris
“Enjoying yourself?” He asked me
“Yeah I am. It’s good to get out and dress up” I said looking over at him
“We should do this more often” he said bumping my shoulder with his own
“Mmm maybe” I said laughing
“Oh come on it’s fun” he said glancing at me
“It’s just so formal is all” I said referring to everyone dressed like it was a business party
“Ehh true, maybe we should do more house parties” he said
“That would be fun” I said nodding at him
“It would” he replied
“Hey I’m going to get a drink, want one?” I asked him standing up
“Uh yeah sure” he said looking up at me
“Let me guess…a Pepsi?” I said scratching my chin
“You know me so well” he said winking at me
I rolled my eyes playfully and walked away. Walking across the venue to the bar. The bartender was pretty busy, so I just looked around waving to some people I knew and having quick conversations with those passing by me.
“Good evening, what could I get for you?” The bartender asked over the music
“Hi! May I have a Pepsi and a Amaretto sour please” I said sliding my ID to him
“Sure thing” he said glancing at my ID and sliding it back to me
As I waited I turned around waving at Matt who was just a few feet away. When I looked back the bartender was handing me my drinks.
“Here you go ma’am” he said sticking two straws in them and sliding the drinks to me
“Thank you! How much?” I asked him opening my wallet
“Oh it’s an open bar” he said laughing
“Oh cool” I said nodding at him and smiling
I grabbed the drinks and headed back to our table. I was shocked to see a bunch of Chris' friends sitting with him. They were all laughing and I slowly slid in next to Chris handing him his drink
“Thank you babe” he said looking at me
I nodded and took a sip of my drink listening in on their convos as I looked at them.
“Are you drinking?” One of them asked me
“Uh yeah” I said laughing
“I mean should you be drinking?” Another one asked
“I’m 21, so legally I can” I said laughing
“Just because it’s legal doesn’t mean you should” the other one replied
“I’m sorry? What do you mean” I said furrowing my eyebrows
“Well, aren't you pregnant?” He asked pointing at me
“What? No, who said that?” I replied
“Oh well you just got a little bigger since the last time I saw you, so I assumed Chris knocked you up” he said laughing
“What? That’s such an asshole thing to say” I replied
“I mean not really….I guess you’re just fat” he said laughing
“Yo? What the fuck man. Are you okay in the head? Who do you think you are insulting my girl? You should know better than to ever say shit about a woman’s weight” Chris said looking at him
“I’m sorry man she just looked pregnant” he said throwing his hands up in defense
“Whatever” I said sternly and slammed my cup down
I grabbed my stuff and stood up
“Babe don’t go” Chris said
“No it’s fine” I said looking back at him
I walked away from the table and found Matt and Nick near the bar, so I walked over to them.
“Y/N” Nick said smiling at me
“Hey guys” I said
“Where’s Chris?” Matt asked
“Oh he’s catching up with some friends and I didn’t want to be a bother” I said nodding
“Ahhh got it” Matt replied
I was talking to them for a total of 10 minutes before Chris came up to us.
“There you are” he said smiling at me
“Left your friends?” I said smiling at him
“Yeah a while ago….they uhh were getting on my nerves” he said looking down at me
“Yeah I wasn’t the fondest of them” I replied
“Me neither” he said wrapping his arm over my shoulder
“Say want to step out real quick?” He asked me
“Umm yeah sure” I said looking up at him
We waved bye to Matt and Nick and walked out of the venue
“Listen don’t even think about what those assholes said” Chris replied stopping us
“I mean how can I not? Pregnant? Chris do you know how big I have to look for others to think I’m expecting” I said scoffing
“They’re just assholes who have childish minds. I promise you you do not look pregnant” he said grabbing my hands
“Chris yes I do okay. Stop lying to my face. I’m fat and ugly and you just feel pity towards me” I said rolling my eyes
“STOP IT OKAY! Stop telling me HOW I feel….that's not how I feel” he said gripping my hands harder
“You’re just being nice” I said looking away
Chris scoffed and let go of one hand. He looked around and spotted a restroom. He dragged me behind him as he stomped to the bathroom
“Why are we in here” I said finally pushing him off of him
“You’re not listening to me. I love you for you. I do not care what your body looks like, and I’m sick of you telling me how I feel because it’s wrong” he said looking at me
“Chris, how can you not care? I’m so much bigger than you and your friends are pointing it out too” I said getting annoyed
“Those aren’t my friends. Anywho who makes fun of any woman, especially my woman about their body, is no friend of mine.” He stated
“Whatever” I said stepping away from him
Chris grabbed me and walked towards the mirror
“Look at yourself” he said standing behind me
“No” I said looking away
“God dammit Y/N I said look at yourself” he said sternly grabbing my head and forcing me to look at my reflection
“You know what I see when I look at you?” He asked
“A disgusting sloppy loser” I said with a straight face
“NO. I see a beautiful intelligent woman who cares about everyone else but herself….a woman who’s so kind to others but says the most vile things about herself. You only have one body and one life to live. Stop wasting it by hating your own skin” he said shaking his head
“Chris, it's hard, okay. To constantly be reminded that I’ll never be thin and perfect like all those other girls. You’ll never know what it’s like to look in the mirror and wonder why you picked me” I said shaking my head
“Who cares about those other girls? I care about what’s in front of me, and what’s in front of me is you” he said looking at me with sad eyes
All I could do was shut my eyes and let a shaky breath out
“You’re so beautiful, and it kills me that you can’t see it” he said
Chris moved my hair over my shoulder and began to lay kisses on my left shoulder. Slow open mouth kisses causing my breath to hitch in my throat.
With his left hand he slid the strap down moving his kisses up to my neck and behind my ear
“Chris, what are you doing?” I moaned out tilting my head to the right side
“Shhh” he said running his left hand up my waist
He moved to my right shoulder and began kissing up my neck causing me to bite my bottom lip.
“We…we shouldn’t be doing this” I stuttered out
“Says who” he replied against my skin
“We could get caught” I moaned out
“Well then we better make it fast” he replied with a smirk
Chris’ hands went up my waist and to my breast squeezing them through the silk fabric
“Fuck Chris” I panted out letting my head fall back on his shoulders
“Shhh pretty girl I got you” he said kissing my ear
Chris slid the tight fabric up my body exposing my lower half
“Christopher we shouldn’t” I said grabbing his hands
“But we are” he said pushing my hands away
He ran his hands along my breasts squeezing as he kissed and sucked on my neck. His hands slowly grazing down my torso to my stomach.
“No” I said grabbing his hands and snapping my eyes open to look in the mirror
“No?” He said furrowing his brows
“I mean no not here, but yes” I said breathing heavily
“I think here is perfect, so you can look at yourself in the mirror” he replied licking his lips
“I’m not doing that” I said
“You’re going to look at yourself in the mirror, and watch me finger you giving you exactly what you want. Pulling an orgasm from you like it’s nothing. You’re going to watch your knees go walk as you fall over making a mess in my hand…got it?” He said whispering into my ear causing me to shudder
“Yes yes” I panted out
“Now look at yourself” he replied
I looked at myself in the mirror. Flat against Chris' chest as he stands taller than me. His left hand wrapped across my chest to keep me back as his right hand traveled along the skin of my stomach chasing goosebumps to form.
“Now you have to stay quiet” he said ghosting his right hand in my panty line
“Okay” I moaned out looking into his eyes to rough the mirror
Chris slowly slid his hand into my underwear cupping my cunt. My knees immediately buckling under me
“So soon?” He teased pulling me back tighter and all I could do was moan in response
He slid his middle finger down to my entrance picking up my arousal and sliding his finger back up to my clit
“Mmm so wet for me already?” He replied in a whisper
“Shut up” I said getting embarrassed
“Don’t get shy on me sweet girl” he said smirking
He brought his ring finger down, and with both his middle and ring finger he began to slowly rub my clit. Spreading my arousal around as I moaned out his name
“Feeling good baby?” He asked
“Very good” I said as my chest rose and fell rapidly
He brought his hand back out of my underwear and brought his two fingers to my mouth
“Suck” he said, and I did swirling my tongue around his finger and he removed them from my mouth
“Such a dirty mouth” he said into my ear before placing a kiss to my temple
He brought those same fingers back down to my pussy, and slowly slid his fingers into my entrance. Earning a long moan from me. The stretch of his fingers making me melt like ice cream in his hands
“I know it’s been a while, I’ve been neglecting my baby” he said kissing my cheek as he looked at me in the mirror
“Chris please don’t stop” I moaned out looking at him
He smiled and began to mercilessly pound his fingers in and out of me. All that could be heard was my shallow breathing and the wet sounds coming from my sopping cunt.
“Soo wet for me…you’re such a dirty girl” he said as he he curved his fingers hitting my G spot
“FUCK” I moaned out as my knees buckled again
“Remember you have to stay quiet” he said holding me up again
“I’m sorry” I said weakly as my mouth hung open
His fingers fucking into me at such a rapid rate his palm was hitting my clit in such a delicious way, and the sounds coming from my wet cunt we’re making me even more wet.
“Making such a mess for me, and I fucking love it” he said in a gruff tone
“Chrisss” I moaned in a high pitch tone
Chris switched between rubbing my clit and fingering me at a fast pace bringing me closer and closer to my orgasm.
My head fell forward as my jaw fell slack. I hadn’t realized I was drooling on Chris till he spoke
“Look at yourself pretty” he cooed
I lifted my head back and saw the string of saliva connect from my mouth to his arm as I locked eyes with him in the mirror
“Wow…my fingers have you this dumb you’re drooling all over me?” He said as his fingers moved faster
“Shit shitttt” I moaned out as I clenched down on his fingers
“You gonna cum?” He asked pouting at me through the mirror
“Please Chris…please I need it” I said
“On one condition” he said biting his lip
“Yes please god yes…what is it” I said moaning
“You have to say I am beautiful and I am loved” he said
“Chris no” I whined out
“Then no organs for you” he replied slowing down
“NO NO PLEASE, okay fine” I say moaned out batting my lashes at him
“Well then go on” he said picking the pace up again
“I am beautiful and I am loved” I said looking at myself in the mirror
“There we go” he said kissing my cheek
Chris began to rub my clit with his thumb as his fingers pounded into me
“IM GONNA CUM FUCKKK” I moaned out as I began to shake against his chest
“Come on baby you got this” he said kissing the back of my head
“Chris Chris I’m cumming” I moaned out
My thighs began to shake as my knees gave out causing Chris to hold me up. My jaw fell slack as we held eye contact in the mirror as my orgasm washed over me.
“Oh my god” I moaned out repeatedly as I came all over his fingers
He helped me ride out my high before removing his hand from my underwear. I slowly regained my balance and slid my dress down leaning onto the sink counter for support. Chris licked his fingers clean as he watched me in the mirror
“Sooo good” he moaned out
“Fuck Chris” I said still trying to catch my breath
“I told you baby you’re the only girl for me, and watching you shake and cum all over my fingers gets me going” he said smacking my ass
“I’m sorry Chris” I said standing up
“There’s no reason to be sorry. I need you to see how perfect you are and stop comparing yourself to others” he said washing his hands
“I will…thank you Chris I love you” I replied
“I love you too baby” he said drying his hands
He pulled me in for a hug and when we separated he kissed me for what felt like forever.
“I say we Uber home and finish what we started before Nick and Matt figure out we left” he said winking at me
“Okay” I said biting my lip and giggling like a schoolgirl
We headed home, and really took care of business. I don’t even think Nick and Matt realized we left them behind….
The End
Yallll I’m sorry for being gone for 6 days LMAOO, but now that the holiday season is over it’s time for me to get to work on these stories!😋 I love yall so much and hope you enjoyed this one!🥹🖤
-J💅🏽
#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplet smut#chris sturniolo x reader smut#christ sturniolo smut#Christopher Sturniolo smut#Christopher Sturniolo X reader smut#smut
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chiffon (grumpy!h)
in which harry is still a grump, but now he has a soft spot for Y/N and wants to protect her at all costs.
word count: 3.5k
content warnings/author's notes: part two of grumpy h!! there will be one more (smutty) part of this series posted one week from today. CWs: one mention of sexual consent in a negative way, description of a bad sexual experience
part one | masterlist | talk to me
Y/N wakes up three hours later in her pitch black bedroom.
She's instantly grateful when she realizes that the persistent migraine has now been demoted to a dull throbbing at her temples, a sign that it should fully fade away within the night.
For a moment, she forgets any of the day's events — that she attempted to go to classes today but stranded herself in Donnolly's office when she couldn't make it home. Even more embarrassingly, that Harry's the one that found her and took her home and— oh my God, she asked him to stay.
If she wasn't still in some sort of pain, Y/N would have shot up in bed and pressed an ear to her door to figure out if he was still here. She figures that that's less painful than going downstairs in a large tee-shirt and a pair of underwear, her preferred sleeping attire, to see if he had destroyed her home yet.
Maybe that's all this was, actually — just a really longwinded attempt for Harry to fully and finally ruin her life by catnapping Ginger or something.
She's deep in coming up with ways Harry could destroy her dwellings when there's a quiet knock on her bedroom door. Her eyes snap open and she croaks out an awkward, "...yeah?", revealing something she never thought she'd ever see in her home: Harry holding Ginger in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other.
"Y'awake?" he asks as he slowly, hesitantly tip-toes inside. There aren't any lights on so it's hard for him to see anything, which Y/N is grateful for — she still has a pile of clean laundry to fold, with pink lacey underwear unfortunately at the top of the basket.
"Um, yeah. I just woke up actually." Y/N finally croaks out. Harry kneels down to let Ginger go and she immediately wanders over to her bed, jumping up to lay at her feet.
"How are you doing?"
"Alright, thanks. It's starting to go away."
"'S good."
Harry clears his throat at the awkward silence that overtakes, putting the ceramic plate down on her desk, "I ordered pizza, I wasn't sure if you'd be hungry when you woke up."
"Oh, thank you," Y/N replies, sitting up slightly and propping herself against the mess of pillows behind her. "Yeah, I've barely eaten in the past few days."
"Oh, here then." Harry murmurs, grabbing the plate and handing it to her. She accepts it gratefully, eager to take a bite.
"You can turn on that lamp for some light if you'd like."
"Do you want it on?" he questions, "Not sure if it'll bother you or... if you wanna see me, or whatever."
"Why wouldn't I want to see you?"
"Because I made you cry."
Y/N shrugs between bites. "Everything makes me cry. It's stupid, like you said."
"I didn't say crying was stupid."
"Mm, you're right," she replies, "You called me pathetic and a church mouse."
Harry cringes as he shifts from foot to foot, awkwardly standing in the dark expanse of her room as she munches on pizza.
"That was really mean of me and I'm very sorry."
Again, she shrugs, reaching the crust with a crunchy bite. "Okay."
He huffs as she finishes the slice. Everything about this girl should piss him off and, in hindsight, it does, but more than yelling at her, he wants to wrap her up in one of the million fuzzy blankets she has on her couch, press a kiss to her forehead, and protect her from everything that's ever made her sad.
"It's not okay, Y/N," Harry mutters. "Do you want another piece?"
"Yes, please. And turn the light on."
Silently, Harry obeys, flicking her lamp on before going back downstairs to retrieve another slice for her. This time, he pours her a glass of water too, figuring that she's thirsty since she didn't have that massive water bottle glued to her side today either.
"Thank you." she mumbles, taking big gulps of water and balancing the plate on her thigh. Harry notices that she still looks exhausted, but she's talking more now, and she's back to having the smidgen of attitude he's only ever seen her have with him. A large, tattered tee-shirt covers her form while her legs are left bare, bits of her thigh peaking out from where her blanket doesn't reach. He swallows, mentally rolling his eyes at himself for getting so jumbled over a sliver of skin.
"You said this migraine was triggered by stress." Harry says as he sits by the edge of her bed, gently stroking Ginger's fur.
"Yeah. They happen a few times a year. I can be kinda bad at managing my emotions and stress and all that."
"What was so bad about it this time?" he asks, "Was it the TA position or are classes especially busy?"
Y/N swallows and bites her lip, glancing down to pick at a thread from her duvet cover. "Yeah, it was the TA position."
"What about it? I can take more of the workload from you if it's too much. We don't have to tell Donnolly about it."
"It wasn't... the workload, Harry," she mutters, keeping her gaze low, "It was you. I spent the weekend trying to figure out if I should transfer out of this lecture and try to switch to a different one. You... hate me so much and I just... didn't want to be in the company of someone who feels that way so openly."
Harry's heart drops. He knows he hasn't given her much an inkling that he feels any different about her, aside from helping her get home today, but if only she knew how much he thought about her this weekend — that he didn't want to go out or hookup with anyone because her face was the only one that crossed his mind. Her silly platform shoes that she can hardly walk in when she's particularly tired after a lengthy stretch of grading, her fuzzy cardigans, her dumb pencil pouches and her favorite red pen that she always uses.
"I don't hate you, Y/N. I'm so sorry I made you think that."
Y/N's watery eyes gaze up at him and his heart constricts again. "You've been so mean to me, though."
"I know," Harry sighs, shaking his head, "I know I have. I didn't mean it. Any of it. You're not pathetic or stupid. Or a church mouse."
"Then why did you say those things?"
He presses his lips together and takes a deep breath. "Because I think you're actually very smart and sweet and pretty, and I can tell that you don't think very highly of yourself, and it bothered me. I wanted you to defend yourself to me and say that you're not any of those things. It pissed me off when you wouldn't... it pisses me off that you're not like any of the people I hang out with, and I still think you're so cool."
Y/N's jaw nearly drops at that, the thought of Harry thinking anything positive about her feeling like a bad joke. How very childish of him, and if was any other person sitting here telling her that, she would politely ask them to leave — but it's Harry, so instead, the thought makes her laugh.
She's giggling and shaking her head, a big, toothy grin on her face. Harry's heart is pounding, and while her smile is so beautiful, it makes him nervous that she'd think this is funny.
"Why... are you laughing?"
"Because that's the silliest thing I've ever heard," Y/N guffaws, wiping away the moisture collecting in her tear ducts, "You're just so— you're silly, Harry, really. Big, grumpy Harry thinks I'm cool, so you decide to be mean to me instead of being my friend?"
Harry lets out a laugh, understanding now how absolutely foolish the whole scenario is. He shakes his head and covers his face with his hands as a warm flush flowers over his cheeks.
"Yeah, that's so fucking dumb." he admits, the small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes making an appearance from his wide smile.
And maybe it's from the lack of sleep, or the fact that she's feeling decent for the first time in days, or the pizza she scarfed down was just that good, but Y/N can't help but notice how pretty Harry looks when he smiles. And so she kneels on the bed, skin digging into the mattress, and reaches out to peel Harry's hands away from his face, gently placing his arms at his sides with a small smile.
Harry swallows loudly and Y/N swears he glances down at her lips for a split second.
"Do you think we could be friends, Y/N?"
She smiles wider, her shoulders relaxing.
"Yeah. I would really like that."
. . .
The transition to friendship is nearly effortless.
Harry realizes that he actually really adores hanging around Y/N, which is more of just a reminder of how awful he was to be so mean to her when they met. In the following weeks, they see each other twice a week at Donnolly's class. He'll typically bring her a coffee or a pastry and make sure she's drinking enough water, to which she'll shoot him a playful glare, showing off her massive 40-ounce water bottle.
("It serves a double purpose, H, it's like a protective device, too!", she'd claimed when he asked about it. In response, he grumbled something about him being able to protect her far better, which makes her giggle and shake her head.)
Grading goes faster because they chat about anything and everything. Harry complains about his housemates, Y/N shows him cute pictures of Ginger, and sometimes, they'll grab dinner afterwards, which makes Harry feel especially thankful because it means he's spent more than half of his day with her. But no matter how many minutes or hours he spends in her presence, he's always left feeling warm and gooey inside, a dopey smile on his lips when they part.
It's gross. But Harry's lying if he says he doesn't love it.
It's a Friday afternoon when they're laying around in Y/N's living room. She's working on a critique for her advanced poetry class and Harry managed to convince her to let him come over a few hours ago—
"I really, really need to see Ginger, I bought her a new toy at the grocery store yesterday," he'd explained when he'd called her 20 minutes after waking up.
"You have to stop spoiling her! She's gonna like you more than me!"
"What's wrong with that?"
Y/N sighs and picks at the fuzzy threads of her pink throw blanket. "Fine, but can you please bring me a coffee?"
"I'm shocked you think I'd come over without one for you."
Harry's fairly good at letting Y/N work in peace. He'll thumb through his current read or play with Ginger while she does whatever she needs to do, but it's approaching 4 pm on a Friday, and he's growing determined to tear her away from her homework.
"What are you doing tonight?" he asks from the carpeted floor, his back against the plushy blue fabric and Ginger perched on his stomach.
"Mm, probably gonna order sushi and watch a movie," Y/N murmurs, looking up at him from above the frames of her blue light glasses, "What bar are you planning on getting drunk at tonight?"
Harry grumbles and sits up, carefully removing Ginger and placing her on the floor. "Why do you assume those are my plans?"
Y/N smiles and shrugs, pulling her lavender cardigan up to cover her shoulder, "Isn't that what you do every weekend?"
"I guess so," he mumbles. "Don' wanna do that tonight, though. Can I hang out with you?"
With furrowed eyebrows, Y/N shuts her laptop and puts it on the coffee table. She purses her lips as she stretches her jean-clad lags out against the length of the couch.
"Sure, but why would you want to do that?"
She doesn't miss the glare he shoots her as he traipses over to the sofa. He lifts her legs so there's room for him to sit down and quickly places them over his lap before she has the opportunity to blush at the physical contact.
"You're much more fun," Harry replies, "I'm craving sushi and I like the idea of cuddling up in your cozy lil' home with you. Is that okay?"
Y/N swallows, and Harry can tell by the way that her eyebrows are slightly drawn together, that she's processing, if not over-thinking. Softly, he taps her ankle once, a hum falling from her plush lips.
"It's alright if it's not. I know you like your alone time, Y/N."
"No, no, it's fine," she rushes out as Ginger jumps up on the couch, making herself at home on Y/N's chest, "I just... you know."
"I know?"
"Yeah. You know."
"Mm, I think you lost me."
She lets out a sigh as her knuckles carefully trace the top of Ginger's head. "I'm not used to people thinking I'm fun."
For a moment, Harry doesn't reply — not because he doesn't know how to, but because it feels like his heart has grown three sizes, just like in The Grinch. He doesn't want to overwhelm her with his feelings for her (that he thinks she's the coolest, most fun, sweetest girl he's ever come across), so he just squeezes her ankle and shakes his head.
"That's stupid," he murmurs, "You're so much fun. Don't think that you're not, okay?"
Y/N peeks up at him through her lashes and takes in the way that Harry's gaze is set on her, his eyebrows knitted together the way they do when he's focusing on reading or grading.
"Okay." she finally says.
"Good. Now, let's order some sushi and decide on a movie."
. . .
"Can I ask you a question?"
Y/N glances up from her Philadelphia roll, chopsticks in hand, to see Harry staring intently at the TV and mid-chew.
He does this often — there will be a comfortable lull in conversation and he'll say those words and ask something absolutely humiliating. Y/N swears he does it just because he likes to see her get nervous. Last time, he did it when they were in the middle of grading and asked what kind of porn she watched. The time before that, they had gotten dinner and were walking back to Harry's car when he wanted to know if she kicks Ginger out when she hooks up with someone.
And, like most things, because it's Harry, she doesn't actually get offended. She gasps and swats at him and hisses his name out, which always makes him cackle, and then gives some half-assed answer — "Harry! You don't need to know that!", or "Ginger has innocent eyes, stop it!".
So this time, she can only wonder what's churning through that stupid boy brain of his. This time, they're not in public but instead in the confides of Y/N's home, which means literally anything could come out of his mouth right now.
"If you have to." Y/N eventually settles on, making him smirk.
"Are you a virgin?"
Y/N nearly chokes on the rice she was chewing. Sure, Harry was open about his previous sexual escapades, but he knows how shy she is. They've never actually broached the subject of her being physical with someone else, as they seemed to function on a don't-ask-don't-tell type of model.
She sets her chopsticks down and clears her throat, looking over to see Harry waiting patiently. "No," she finally answers, "I'm not a virgin."
"Hm."
He goes back to eating his sushi as if nothing awkward has happened and Y/N wants to yell at him.
"What does 'hm' mean? Why did you wanna know?" she presses, because she's her, and she can rarely let anything go.
"Just curious, 's all," he replies with a shrug, "It doesn't mean anything. You know I'm not and I was wondering the same about you."
"Why? Because I'm an introvert?"
"No," Harry quickly shakes his head. He tends to get defensive whenever Y/N brings up her quiet personality, always reiterating that there's nothing wrong with her being timid. "I've just never seen you with anyone and I haven't heard of you going on dates or bringing people back to your place. I didn't know if there was something... blocking you from that."
"Not exactly." Y/N mutters as she stabs another piece of sushi with her chopsticks, bringing it up to her mouth.
"What do you mean?"
"Um... I mean, I'm not a virgin, but I also haven't had sex in like, five years. So."
"That's fine, Y/N," Harry replies easily, sitting back against the couch cushions, "That's not a bad thing at all."
Y/N takes a deep breath. "It's not really... it's not because I haven't wanted to, though."
Her face is on fire now, nerves seeping into her bones as she thinks back to her college years. She's never opened about this to anyone besides a therapist she saw for a few weeks last summer, and even she didn't have anything productive to say.
"You can tell me anything," he says quietly, setting his sushi tray down on the coffee table to shift his posture to face her. "No judgement, you know that."
"It's not about being judged. It's embarrassing, Harry."
He nods his head, a wordless gesture of encouragement. She rolls her lips into her mouth and fists the blanket atop her lap, shutting her eyes.
"There was this guy when I was a sophomore in college. He lived in the same building as me and he was really nice... would always, like, hold the door open for me and make small talk when we were in the elevator. You know it's tough for me to find friends and feel comfortable around people so... I appreciated it, y'know? Anyway, after a few weeks of that, just like, friendly communication, he asks me out on a date. I was really excited because I'd never had someone interested in me romantically before. Or, at least, not enough to ask me out. So we went on a couple of dates and things seemed to be going really well, and we kissed and made out a few times, and then maybe a two or so months later, he asks me if I wanna come hang out in his room."
Harry's breath hitches and she looks up at him. "It's... it was all consensual, just so you know," she quickly clarifies and he nods, his body relaxing slightly. "Long story short, I guess, we slept together. That was my first time. It was fine, it didn't hurt too bad and he treated me pretty well. He went to go shower afterwards and... I was sitting in his bed, getting dressed when I saw he left his phone on his nightstand, and his friends were texting him... I thought maybe they were trying to make plans for the night or looking for him— I know I shouldn't have read them, but I saw my name, and... they, um, made a bet. To see if he could sleep with me. And if he didn't do it within three months of our first date, he'd owe them $100."
"Oh, Y/N," Harry gasps, surging across the length of the couch before she even realizes moisture has built up in her eyes. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his chest, hugging her tightly as the tears flow steadily, a choked sob sounding from her body. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, baby."
He repeats his apologies until Y/N finally stops crying. Neither of them know how long it's been, but when she breaks apart from the crook of his neck, she realizes she's basically seated in his lap, his strong legs serving as a spot for her to rest. He keeps his arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders, his eyes searching for hers.
"Y/N, I need to tell you something," Harry says softly, his thumb finding her chin so he can look at her tear-streaked face. "I know I was awful to you when we met. I'll never forgive myself for that. But please believe me when I say I will stick around for as long as you'll have me, and I'll always protect you. I will never let anyone hurt you that way ever again. Okay? Do you believe me?"
A month ago, Y/N would have laughed in his face.
Today, Y/N nods without a second thought. It doesn't take 20 seconds of thinking to know that she trusts Harry implicitly, and she tears up again at the thought of finally resting because he's watching over her.
Read part three here! :)
#writing#harry#harry styles blurb#harry styles fic#harry styles#harry styles imagine#fanfic#harry styles one shot#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x reader#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#one direction#harry styles writing#Harry styles x you#harry styles x oc#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles fandom#harry styles love on tour#fic rec#harry styles fic rec#harry styles angst#love on tour
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Yandere in the apocalypse
Strawberries
M!Yandere X GN!reader
Warning: stalking, mentions of killing.
Summary: Continuation of the nightly visit story. The world has ended but that doesn't stop your yandere to prove (to nobody other than himself) that he can give you anything. He goes out of his way to get you something you want but things don't go as planned.
Author's note: It was really nice to see the first part (and my first post) being so well received. Really thank you!!
Never will he be far behind. Always in the shadows watching over you. He truly is your guardian angel, undefeated protector, perfect boyfriend…
Though in a perfect world he would be close to you, show you how good he is to you. But because of the friends of yours most of the time Aaron has to go unnoticed. But the times he does get close, he cherishes.
The weather is nice and Aaron has spent the last 4 hours in a tree. Your group has made the decision to leave the city and head out into the wild. A decision he doesn't exactly agree with, for many reasons. Though your group has decided upon two night watchers now he dont believe for a second they could do a better job than him.
Half of the group has split up from camp and gone out to look for food. You sit together with a girl with dark braids and a blond girl, who looks to be in need of a shower soon. The boy is there too, blissfully unaware of his surroundings and listening in on the conversation.
“I LOVED to eat Moules frits, I could eat a whole bucket of those things.” The blond girl says.
"Oh, you snob!” The braided girl exclaims. “Can you say something normal like a burger?”
“But what is so weird about Moules frits? It's just Oysters and Fries! The blond pouts.
“Wrong! It's Clams not Oysters, you idiot.”
"You seem to know an awful lot about Moles frits, huh? Y/N, who do you think the real posh one is?” The blond looks over at you who throughout this whole conversation has just been smiling at the bickering.
“Donno, seems like a tie, or what do you think Max?” You turn over to the boy who nods eagerly. You and Max exchange a look as the blond one rolls her eyes over dramatically, but the action prones a laugh out of the three of you.
“What foods do you miss, Y/N?” Max asks when the laughing has died down. You think for a moment.
“Well, not the canned potatoes that's for sure, or any other canned foods for that matter. I miss fresh ones, oh I know, I miss Strawberries!” You say. “And actually at this point I would be happy to have any shape, dried or fresh doesn't matter.”
“Me too.” A voice from the bushes makes everyone jump.
Even Aaron is about to fall out of the tree. But when the other half of the group returns he swears over himself over the lack of awareness. But the conversation had made him think. If his love wants strawberries then she shall have strawberries.
When night comes he sneaks down from his hideout. A week ago they passed a small community, odd people and overly religious. They had only really gotten a picture of them though three men who were out looking for a friend of theirs. The men had invited them back to their community but luckily your group had declined the offer. Good thing your group had caught their off vibes too and decided not to risk it. But when the both of your groups had parted ways and one of the men decided to turn back to you, Aaron felt nothing good would come with a second encounter. So the man was killed and buried before sunrise. By then the group was up and away.
But the men at the time had mentioned a garden filled with vegetables and fruits. Perhaps a tactic to lure you into their claws. But right now it's his best bet in finding Strawberries.
Traveling alone ment moving at a much quicker pace. Perhaps he will be back to you in less than a week!
When he arrives he realizes the men weren't lying. If something they were playing it down by a lot. Aaron could see “the garden” from a mile away by the size of it. The only problem he is facing now is getting in. It is surrounded by a huge fence, barbed wires, then on top of that they have built six hunting towers to guard from any intruders.
He decides to wait until night time and while doing so he can feel his eyes grow heavier.
He wakes up (all stiff from sleeping in a tree) to the luck of a lifetime. Rockets are firing from the other side of the garden, somebody else is planning to break in too. He brings his handy pocket knife and while the guard's attention is elsewhere he takes the opportunity to run straight for one of the hunting towers.
He just needs a little bit of luck to not be spotted now. Despite having two hunting towers at each side of him that could easily spot him he hopes their attention stays on the forest for intruders.
The darkness hides him long enough to cut through the fence. His pocket knife pliers are weak, it takes time to cut through the fence. But not impossible.
As he works up a hole big enough for him to fit through he can hear the guards discussing, the weak attack was quickly disarmed. But Aaron can sense them being on edge for anything else to happen.
When he is through it's in and out. Their attention is not on the plantation but he still tries to hide amongst the greenery. It doesn't take long before he finds the red little berries. There are rows upon rows of them. They won't miss a few. When he is done collecting and placing the container back in his backpack, he turns to make his way out again.
Just as he feels confident he is going to make it without getting spotted he gets just that. Spotted. He crawls through his hole as bullets start raining around him. His only option is to run and find shelter amongst the trees. He sprints as fast as he can, the trees approaching quickly. Just a few more steps.
Then he feels one of the bullets hitting its target, a sharp pain shoots through his thigh. He lets out a cry of pain but with the adrenaline pumping his veins he doesn't stop.
He pushes further and further through the forest even though he is not as fast as he would have liked, the people deciding to go after him seems to have given up the chase. Their voices grow more and more distant by the second.
The following days are hard. He has to stop multiple times to not strain his wound too much. Worry starts to grow more and more each day. As he is slowing down you are walking further and further away. The fear something would have happened to you while he was away grows stronger by the day.
When the pain in his leg is unbearable as he is fighting to keep up a good pace he wishes he never left you. What if something has happened to you while he was gone? Why didn't he consider this before he left? How stupid he feels.
He lets out a sigh of relief when he reaches a small lake and in the distance he can see your figure walking out in the water with your pants rolled up. So peaceful. Finally he can allow himself to rest and to heal.
Mission accomplished too. He feels pride grow in his chest as he watches you. He can give you something nobody else can. He can't wait for your reaction. A smile only he could give you.
The next morning you wake up and the first thing you see is a small package with a note attached to it.
“Whatcha got there?” Ginny asks as she frantically tries to brush through her blond curls with her fingers.
“I don't know. Was here when I woke up.” You turn over the note and read what it says out loud.
‘Got these for you.
Until we meet, A.’
“A? There is no one here who starts with A.” Ginny says loudly. A ruckus begins amongst the ones that are awake. Their discussion is loud enough to wake up the rest.
“What do I do with these?” You ask.
“Leave them, it's not worth the risk.” Felice says and pulls her braids out from the shirt she just put on. “Come, you go with me from now on.”
Aaron limps over to the spot you sat at as he is fighting tears. The anger and disappointment bubbling up in his chest. He wishes he could kill them, hurt them as they have hurt him.
But all he does is pick up the berries.
He knows revenge will come in due time.
#yandere male#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere oc#yandere x you#tw stalking#post apocalyptic#yandere x y/n
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Oneshot idea:
Chris or Matt and you are in a relationship. They don’t stick up for you when a celeb girl hits on them in public to “keep the peace” but this leads to ANGST.
was it worth it? - m. sturniolo
pairing: matt x fem ! reader
warnings: cursing, fighting, angst
basically the request but with my own little twist.
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here i was at yet another stupid influencer party that my boyfriend dragged me to, he knows this isn’t really my thing, you see matt and i have been together for nearly a year but we’ve decided to keep our relationship a secret from the public just a few friends knowing.
matt was currently talking to group of people potentially talking about collaborating or something similar to that, i was a few feet behind him giving him the space he needed.
i looked at him from the kitchen seeing how he was laughing and joking around with his friends until a girl came touching him in ways i didn’t like, leaning into his ear whispering things with a smile on her face even making her punch him in a flirting way she turned around and i finally got a good look at her. my heart dropped.
chelsea monroe an instagram model with blonde hair and blue eyes— knowing who she is and not in a good way— was now flirting with my boyfriend what hurt more was that he flirted back.
i was less than six feet away witnessing my boyfriend cheating on me like i wasn’t even there trying to distract myself from the heartbreak i started speaking to madi.
-
nick and chris had ubered back to their house an hour ago i would’ve gone with them but matt had told me he wanted to drive me home and that’s what he did.
“are you hungry?” he asked as we got into his car “no” i responded looking forward he started the car his hand finding its way on my thigh making me push it off making him put it back i pushed it off again.
“y/n are you okay?” he asked as he looked towards the road and back to me “yup.” i responded “are you sure?” he urged “definitely” i replied. “y/n” he stated “matthew” i said looking at him with a straight face “okay, what the fuck is wrong you never refer to me as matthew unless something is wrong” he said looking at me for a spilt second before turning back at the road.
“nothing is wrong.” i mumbled with a straight face “y/n don’t be fucking immature and tell me what the fuck is wrong!” he argued “nothing is fucking wrong now drop it!” i slightly yelled.
the rest of the ride was quiet the only sound being the radio playing faintly, as we arrived at my house i quickly unbuckled my belt and started to open my door when matt spoke again.
“i’m sorry for what i said but if you need anything just call me okay?” he says softly “okay.” i said before i fully got out of the car “i love you” he stated before i slammed the car door and made my way into my house quickly locking it.
not even five seconds after i got in i get a phone call pulling it out and looking at the caller id
“what matt?” i sighed “you didn’t say ‘i love you’ back” he mumbled “yea and?” “you never not say it back” he sighed “yea well i’m tired bye” i replied hanging up.
that was the last time i spoke to him, that was friday night now it’s sunday i’ve spent all weekend crying ignoring all his texts and calls only keeping contact with chris and nick.
-
i kept the no contact thing all week and before i knew it it was friday again knowing the triplets had another party to go to i decided to have a night to myself and rewatch ‘supernatural’ while eating ice cream or any other snacks i could get my hands on.
i was three hours into the show when my phone lit up with a notification ‘matthew.sturniolo just posted on their story.’
clicking on the notification my heart drops i couldn’t believe it he was posing with chelsea she was leaning into him his hand on her waist a perfect view of his neck— hickies covering his neck and lipstick slightly smudge on his lips her lipstick.
that was my breaking point i paused my tv walking towards my room pulling out his duffel bag and a box in the duffel i put all the clothes he’s left here over the time and in the box all the the gifts he’s given me. i was done and i wasn’t going to let him hurt me.
i don’t remember falling asleep but i woke up on the couch with a few missed calls from matt, i didn’t answer but i instead texted chris and nick in the group chat we had without matt
ME:
could yall come over? i have a few things i need you guys to pick up.
CHRIS:
yea let me just order an uber we’ll be there in like 10 minutes or so
NICK:
we’re on our way.
after a few minutes i hear a knock on my door already opening the door i let the boys in and made my way to my room to pick up the duffel taking it back to the living room and handing it to a very confused nick.
“give that to matthew” i said with a straight face “matthew? full name that can’t be good what’d he do” asked nick “he cheated” i stated calmly “he what?!” the both replied nearly yelling “yea you guys didn’t see the photo?” i pulled out my phone to show them the picture “that son of a bitch!” exclaimed chris “well good you’re breaking up with him” chimed in nick “wait i thought you’d be more heartbroken about this” question nick “well i was the first time it happened but i realized that if he really loved me he wouldn’t be a two timing bitch” i scoffed
“good for you!” praised chris as he smiled at me with that nicks phone rang “speaking of the devil” he sighed “what’s up matt? what? no we haven’t heard from her” he smiled winking at me signaling that he was asking about me after a while they hang up “well we have to go but we’re in your side no matter what!” nick said as he got up and gave me a side hug then picked up the duffel heading outside.
“if you ever need anything or something don’t hesitate to call or text me or nick okay?” he mumbled into my hair as we hugged “okay thank you so much i love you guys so much” i mumbled back letting go of the hug.
-
ring ring
i picked up my phone to matt calling i hung up and turned back around to go to sleep but my phone kept buzzing not letting me.
“hello?” i responded groggily “what the actual fuck y/n!” matt’s voice boomed through my phone’s speakers making me pull it away a bit “huh what are you talking about?” “why did chris and nick just bring me a duffel with my things in it?” he angrily asked “because i’m breaking up with you” i stated “what?” he laughed “i’m. breaking up. with. you. understand?” i broke down each word like if i was speaking to a baby “why are you breaking up with me?” he scoffed “hmmm i don’t know maybe because you cheated on me with chelsea?” i asked “what? i didn’t cheat on you!” “don’t make me laugh matthew i have proof from text messages to the story you posted last night”
“look im sorry i made a mistake but baby please don’t do this i-i love you!” he begged into the phone “maybe you should’ve thought about that before you cheated bye matthew and by the way i hope she was worth it.” i spoke before i hung up the phone.
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okay this is not as good as i wanted it to be but hopefully you like it pookie 😰
tags: @sturnioloslurps @hearts4chris @patscorner
#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo x reader#fanfic#sturniolo smut
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Long-Distance | Matt Murdock x Reader
masterlist
Pairing: Matt Murdock x AFAB!Reader
Summary: Matthew gifts you a vibrator for while he's away - but it’s not at all what you think. He bought it for you to play with him and yourself at the same time. How can you say no to such a lucrative offer?
Warnings: SMUT, 18+ MINORS DNI, porn without plot, established relationship, no pronouns (but Matt calls reader a good girl), pure filth, mutual masturbation, use of a vibrator, soft!dom Matt, JOI, sub!reader, hints at unprotected p in v sex, breeding kink, mentions of choking kink, phone sex, dirty talk, coming untouched (?), fluff, no y/n but it's from your pov
A/n: I decided to take the old post down and post it AGAIN because no matter what I'm doing, Tumblr refuses to let my fics appear in the tags. It's pissing me off because I worked hard on this and I actually want people to read it, so I'm trying this again.
I wrote this in two hours – I'm that fucking horny. That’s why there might be several errors here, but idc. Also, I think it's fucking amazing that such vibrators exist (I found that out totally on accident and now I can't wait to meet my s/o and try it out with them). Matt Murdock and remote vibrators? Yes, please. It's not a want it's a need. So I wrote this and well, I kind of like it. It's already been posted on ao3 and oh what a wonder, you can actually find it there! Anyway, the thought of Matt buying us a remote vibrator for long-distance phone sex has my mind going all sorts of crazy. Hope you enjoy!
This is too long to be considered a drabble but it's also missing a lot of detail, so it's a non-drabble drabble.
18+ MINORS DNI!
You're not so sure how you got here.
One moment, you’re kissing your boyfriend goodbye at the airport before he goes on a business trip to Los Angeles, the next you’re holding a small gift-wrapped package he placed under the mattress with a bow as he tells you over the phone to, “Open it.”
You have no idea how you got here, but at the same time, you know exactly how. This always happens. He always finds a way to play even when he’s not home with you. He doesn’t need to be close to make you lose your mind.
So when you toy with the bow and he can clearly hear the hesitation in your movements, he uses more force to tell you again, “Open it, angel. It won’t bite.”
Unless you want it to - you’re hoping it’s not jewelry. You love it when he makes expensive gifts he can barely afford, even with his law firm picking up more wealthy clients willing to pay generous amounts for a good criminal defense, but not tonight. Tonight, you want something else. You want something that can be gift-wrapped, but not over such a vast distance. You want to unwrap something else, feel something else and have someone else in bed with you.
Eventually, you get the bow open and free the object within the long box from its confines. You swallow. His gift is long and made out of silicone, and it’s thick but not nearly as wide as him. There are three buttons instead of just one and the one underneath the obvious on-button looks like a thermometer. You feel the urge to press it, but you stop yourself. He hasn’t told you to play with it yet, only to unwrap it, and you did.
“Matthew,” you whisper. It’s almost a warning as much as it is a thank you.
The phone is on speaker so he can hear every little sound and you can hear him, though with your normal, human senses it’s a little less intense.
He chuckles and the sound shoots right to your core, the vibrator trembling in your hands; the toy isn’t even on yet, but the prospect of what it can do and might entail turns you on beyond compare.
Phone sex with Matt has always been intense. Whenever he went away, he made sure that the two of you would have time to get some much-needed intimacy. He loves listening to every sound you make, no matter how pathetic, and the way you respond to the sound of his voice alone has him coming faster than usual. Not to mention he can pour out his filthiest dirty talk right into your ear and since you can’t see him, it’s just his voice that has you on the edge in minutes, and he feels so incredibly proud of himself whenever you would moan his name in ecstasy. He often considered recording those phone sessions to listen back on at a later, much more desperate time, but he’s afraid that if he did that, he might never be able to stop.
“You like it?” his smug voice climbs through the fog that has taken over your mind.
You nod and he senses it, he always does, even hundreds of miles away and with a phone in between the two of you. He has complete control over you and no one knows you and your body better than he does.
Matt thrives off of it. he thrives off of being the only one who can make you come like that, the only one who can push your buttons so precisely and in just the right spot that it makes you cry out. But most importantly, he thrives off the love he has for you. The love you have for him sustains him, but he lives for you and so loving you is truly the best thing that could have happened to him. And whenever you tell him those three magical words, he wants to combust. He’s never been happier than with you.
You set the package aside, scooting up the mattress until your back hits the headboard. The apartment is so empty without him, but you can hear his breathing on the other end of the line and it makes you feel less alone. The darkness sends shivers down your spine and goosebumps all over your skin.
“What does it do?” you dare to ask.
Matt chuckles again. “What doesn’t it do?”
“Matthew.”
“Take a closer look, sweetheart,” is all he responds to your threatening tone, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
God, his voice sounds so sexy when it’s all breathy and needy for you. He’s lowering his voice just for you, just to make you feel everything you want and need to feel. And he’s so in love he could die from the intensity.
Following his command, you look at the burgundy vibrator again, shaped like a dick in all the right places, thick in girth and length, but coming nowhere close to what Matt hides under his everyday clothing - and what most possibly lies in his hand right now, hard and throbbing for more.
Your finger traces over the thermometer symbol, the on-button, and whatever the third button could be for. “It heats up,” you state, and your voice sounds just a little surprised while also sparked with intrigue.
“That’s right,” he says.
“And it turns on, obviously, but what’s the third button for?”
You hear a click on the other side. He must have moved his phone from the bedside table into his hand. He sounds so much closer now.
Mat shifts in his hotel bed. “Take your phone.”
“Okay.” You follow without questioning his intentions. He knows what he’s doing.
“I downloaded an app.”
“You did what now?”
“Yeah, when you were sleeping before I left. I downloaded an app. Open it,” he says.
Part of you wants to ask why he would download an app on your phone, but you remind yourself that there is a very pleasing surprise waiting in your hand for you and he only wants to prolong the pleasure. So you comply.
You reach the last page, skimming over the different apps until you find one you don’t recognize.
Oh.
Oh.
“Jesus, Matt,” your curse out when you open it and find the first page staring back at you, the lighting setting already turned all the way down so as not to distract you with its blue light.
“Do you like it?” he asks again.
He knows you do.
“It’s with remote control. How did you-”
“I heard about it while I was out the other night. Some couple down the street talked about how this particular model has a long-distance function and I thought, what could be better than finally being able to properly control your orgasms over the distance?”
“Fuck!”
“And you wanna know what’s even better?”
“What?” you ask, swiping to view the different settings.
What could be better than this?
One press of a button and he could draw his fingers on the screen in a pattern that would have you shaking. He could control your pleasure with his phone alone. The vibrations would be completely in his hands, not yours, and all the while he would whisper the filthiest things into your ear until it would feel as if he was truly there with you.
It’s so exciting, you rub your thighs together, slowly starting to open the knot of your bathrobe to get some more space to breathe. The room only seems to grow hotter.
Another click on the other end and then he says, “I have one too.”
You’re unaware of how you got here, but you’re most certainly not going to complain.
Both vibrators are connected, so while Matt plays with your pussy like a fiddle, you can do whatever you want with him. It’s a ring, he tells you, and he puts it on. You can hear him do it, you listen to his every breath and silent groan, rubbing your thighs together again.
The bathrobe slips open. You undress for him. He doesn’t have to tell you, you know what you have to do.
“Are you naked?” he asks.
You nod your head, “Yes.”
“Good.”
“Are you?” you retort.
Matt chuckles into your ear from where you placed the phone on the pillow. “I am,” he says.
“Good.”
“Here’s what we’re going to do: You’re going to take the vibrator and turn it on. Can you do that for me, angel?”
You can and you do.
“Good girl,” his praise goes straight to your cunt, “Now, I want you to use your free hand to touch your breasts, and give your hard nipples some much-needed attention. Don’t hold back, baby. Do whatever makes you feel good.”
“Okay,” you barely manage to choke out.
“And while you’re busy doing that, I want you to use the other to place the vibrator on your clit.”
“Fuck, Matthew!”
“That’s right, moan my name. I’m going to teach you how to scream it very soon.”
You have no idea how you got here.
The vibrator is so deep inside of your tight pussy now, you can feel it resting right against your g-spot, and the stimulator attached to the toy has its tip pressed tightly against your aching clit. He got you so wet so quickly, one hand on your breast and the other using the vibrations of the vibrator to you all wet.
The setting he’s using can only be described as cruel. You’re sure he’s just playing around, using his finger to stroke up and down not only the speed button on his phone screen but his cock as well.
You really don’t know how you got here, but it feels too damn good to stop and question the series of events that lead you here, to him.
His name is a mantra embedded in your brain. “Matthew,” you’re moaning and writhing and he can hear everything.
Your hands clutch the sheets and your back arches. The vibrator pulsates, then slows down only to pick up the pace again. He keeps doing that until you’re crying, overstimulated, and on the edge of an orgasm that felt the most intense it had ever been.
But you reap what you sow and so Matt gets back just exactly what he’s giving you. You find your phone again, interrupting the constant vibrations of his own toy, and changing the setting. If you have to suffer, he might as well join you.
It’s filthy, the things you’re doing and what you’re saying. You should feel bad for fucking yourself on a vibrator controlled by your boyfriend and waking the neighbors with your obscene sounds, but in the bliss of pleasure, you couldn’t care less about what the people in the building have to say about you.
You both need this so damn much.
He grunts on the other end and that tells you he is getting close too, so you slow down the vibrations and match them to your own, moving your fingers in the same rhythm he does.
“Angel,” he breathes and your name follows suit. He’s a mess and he’s so needy, his cock throbs hard. All he wants to do is come, preferably in you, and fill you with his release until you’re fucking overflowing and well-bred, but he can’t. He wants to fuck you through this intense orgasm as your pussy flutters and shakes around him. He wants to hear how wet you are, feel your tears, and choke your pretty little neck until you’re coming all over him. He doesn’t care if it gets messy, he just wants you, and as he fists himself along to the vibrations you torture his red, weeping cock with the vibrating ring at the base, he imagines it’s your hand, your mouth, your fucking pussy that’s making him feel so good.
And he knows you’re imagining his cock, too. You’re imagining him driving in and out of you, twitching and pushing into your g-spot expertly. In your head, he has you pinned down with a hand around your throat, the other rubbing your clit vigorously and at a torturous pace as you inch closer and closer to your climax. He has your legs thrown over his shoulder, or he just holds you close, chest to chest as he fucks into you relentlessly. Perhaps he’s even turning you over now, forcing you to get to your hands and knees and pounding into your tight, used hole. You can only imagine the sting of his hand on your ass, the hand in his hair as he hauls you back and kisses you passionately, making you feel his love and his cock at the same time, and once he touches your neck you would come hard around him, screaming or speechless, whatever mood you are in at the moment, and he’d follow suit, spurting his hot cum into your pussy. It’s lewd, it’s foolish and a lot could go wrong with protecting, but you don’t care anymore. If that man wants to fuck his babies into you, God knows you would do it for him. In the heat of the moment, you think so, at least, because you agreed you aren’t ready for children yet and wouldn’t be for some time, but having Matt Murdock fuck his seed into your cunt as it spasms around his thick cock, marking and breeding you like a toy does things to you. He’s so rough while also being the gentlest when holding you as you come, whispering praises, and kissing you.
God, you are so close. You’re not sure how much more you can take.
He groans. “Just a little more,” he tells you. “Don’t come yet. Wait for my permission, sweetheart. Be a good girl for me.”
Matt turns down the vibrator only so much that your orgasm washes away, the wave disappearing, and adding to the tsunami that is waiting to hit home.
You whine, grabbing the sheets.
“Are you thinking about me? About how my cock would feel inside of you? ‘Cause I’m thinking about you,” he says. “I’m thinking about your tits bouncing whenever I thrust inside of you and the feel of your click cunt taking me so well, making all kinds of sounds that have me wanting to suck on those beautiful lips of yours for days on end. God, you have no idea how much I want you right now. Turn the heat on.”
That’s the one thing he can’t control.
“I want you to feel like it is my dick inside of you, baby.”
“But you’re so much bigger,” you argue, even amid your pleasure.
He chuckles. “I know I am.”
The heat does things to you. It relaxes your walls and allows the vibrator to push even deeper until it’s buried to the hilt. Only then does the accelerate the vibrations again. Together with the heat, your legs are soon shaking and your walls clench, holding the orgasm right there. You don’t have permission, but you need to come. You need to come now or you would make him very unhappy.
“N’ugh, please, Matthew. I’m so close. So fucking close.”
“I know,” he purrs.
“Come with me,” you plead and once you put the vibrations of his ring on full intensity, his moans grow louder and he’s shaking, whimpering even, and his voice cracks.
He reaches for the phone and almost doesn’t make it to tell you, “Come,” before your bubble bursts, the knot releases, and all the pressure on your cunt evaporates with the most intense orgasm he could have possibly pulled out of you.
Once again, you have no idea how you got here. Legs shaking, cheeks wet with tears, the sheets soaked with your wet cum as your cunt and clit twitch. It’s swollen and aching between your legs, like your folds and everything else. Your nipples are so sensitive, you have to ease the hand that holds them. You’re trembling, but only in the ways that are so fucking good.
For minutes, you don’t know how long, and none of you speak. Only heavy breathing fills the phone line. The vibrators have long stopped producing sounds as you shut them off, though you are far too gone to pull it out. It fills you like Matt’s cock would, and you want to keep the image alive for a little longer, feel him in and on you even if he can’t be there to hold you. You can’t keep his cock warm, but you can pretend, only for a moment.
You break the silence first. “Matt?” you ask into the night.
He hums on the other side.
“When are you coming home?”
Your voice is vulnerable and honest, and he sighs. He doesn’t want to hurt you, doesn’t want to disappoint you, and he doesn’t want to stay and work on that godforsaken case any longer either. It’s over, he can go home. He wants to go home. If he has to hand off his caseload to someone else, Jennifer Walters maybe, he would if it meant he could get to see you sooner than planned. One more day, he swears, and then he would take the earliest flight back home to you.
“Soon,” he answers. “I’ll be home soon, sweetheart.”
He still doesn’t quite know what he did to deserve you. The more important it is to him to make you unconditionally happy. He doesn’t want you to leave, doesn’t want to lose you, he just wants you in his arms for the rest of his life.
“You’re the love of my life,” he continues long after you’ve fallen asleep to the sound of his voice, cleaned up and tired from your shared activities. “I will always come back home to you,” he says. “I promise.”
Though he decides that this time, as soon as he’s home, he will ease the weight dragging down the inside of his suit jacket every time he’s with you, he’s never dared to ask you before. Too much of a coward to stand up and speak now, to ask you to stay forever and have a family with him. He wants you, no one else, and he’s determined to prove it to you this time. He doesn’t want to be apart from you any longer. It’s torture, the torture he has to end soon because it’s not just hurting him, it is hurting you too.
You’re not sure how you got here, but with Matt Murdock planning to ask you to marry him, it doesn’t matter why certain things happen a certain way. They just do and it’s perfect that way.
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock smut#matt murdock#afab!reader#daredevil x reader#pwp#matt murdock drabble#daredevil#matt murdock fluff#daredevil smut#let the tags work this time please
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hi pretty!! hru and happy new year <3 school starts next week which means i have to start prepping from this week (really i should’ve been revising all break but wtv🫣) which means u will probably be seeing less of me for now BUT!!! i will do my best to check in and torment u with my filthy thoughts as often as i can LOL.
current brainrot is changbin absolutely manhandling you with his big strong ass, cause you just had to be a brat today for some reason. sneaking off to the bathroom to fuck yourself open with fingers that are nowhere near as good as his and send him recordings of your pretty, whiny moans. running your brand new nails (that he paid for bc i am a firm believer that bin would spoil his girl like mad) over his cock through his jeans while you’re both out with the members. there’s really only so much a man can take—which is why the second you get home, he’s throwing you over the arm of the couch and dragging your panties down. “bunny wanted to act like a slut all day, she’s gonna get fucked like one, yeah? look at this cunt, all messy and dripping f’ me. this is what you’ve wanted, huh? needy girl.” shoves your legs open and fingers you until you’re grinding on his hand and damn near sobbing. “bet this feels better than whatever you were doing to yourself earlier. dumb little bunny, trying to be a brat. all you gotta do is ask nicely and i’ll give you whatever you want, you know that.” doesn’t even bother to tell you when he wants you to move, just throws you around like a doll or grabs you with one arm and moves you around himself.
at one point he pulls you up from your hands and knees and wraps an arm around your throat to pin you to his broad chest. his thick cock has been practically splitting you open for god knows how long now—you’re so fucked out that you’ve stopped keeping track—and the couch cushions underneath you are soaked with your release. when bin reaches down to your clit again with his other hand, you whimper and feebly try to buck away from him. he just laughs and tightens his grip on you, cooing, “be a good little slut and take what i’m giving you, bunny” in your ear in a soft voice that’s a total contrast to the way he’s fucking ruining you. and how could you ever say no?
(this may or may not be motivated purely by changbin’s aaa performance outfit because good GOD why did he look even bigger and beefier than usual i want him so bad)
-🍒 anon
OHFMY GODF. . . do i even say anything at this point . . . what is there left to say holy fucking shit i am going insane this was so good ARE U SURE U DONT HAVE UR OWN BLOG BECAUSE IF NOT!!! GET ON IT!!!
omg omg omg i forgot who in skz said this but someone said that changbin becomes increasingly attractive while he’s eating AND HDHEHFDEDFFFD someone on twitter posted a video of him chowing down on some food and holy fuck the angle that video was taken from made his arms look so big and beefy, i replayed it for what felt like an hour.
BUT ! back on topic ! you would have to annoy changbin a lot for him to snap at you and fuck you this roughly because you’re his baby :( it’s okay if you’re a little spoiled :( he’ll always take care of you :(
but holy fuck, was his week horrible. he and chan got into a petty argument, their choreographer was up his ass about their upcoming award show performances, and all he wanted to do was fuck you slowly and sweetly like you deserved. but no! he was stuck in the practice room for another three hours and like a little minx, you sent him videos of you spreading your cunt open. if he wasn’t so pent up and tortured, he would scoff at how small the stretch of your fingers must have been compared to his thick cock.
you are IN FOR IT as soon as he reaches home. he couldn't care less about what you were doing. if you were on the phone—the call ended; if you were texting someone—power off; if you were cooking —no problem! he’s turning the stove off and shoving your hips aggressively against the counter, sliding your soaked, lace panties to the side after he’s bunched up your dress to your waist, and fucking his cock right into your greedy little cunt.
his hands would leave bruises on your hips with how firmly he would be gripping them and your ass would be so sore from his continuous smacks because changbin really couldn't control his temper after his shit show of a week.
and if fucking you in the kitchen wasn’t enough, he’ll fuck you in the living room, office, against your balcony window, in the laundry room, in the bedroom, and finally—the shower. your poor hole would be gaping by the end of his abuse, all spent and dribbling with his loads of cum :(
i can just imagine you’re all fucked out by the end of it and still, binnie grips your face and squeezes it harshly, forcing your lips to form a pathetic little pout :(
“see what happens? wanna try that again? sluts like you can’t go a second without being stuffed, huh?”
“do i need to do this every time, honey? do i have to teach you a lesson every day?”
“fussy girl. you knew i’d take care of you—still had to annoy me though, hm?”
#changbin smut#seo changbin x reader#seo changbin smut#changbin x reader#skz smut#stray kids smut#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz hard thoughts#skz hard hours#stray kids hard thoughts#stray kids hard hours#seo changbin hard thoughts#changbin hard thoughts#changbin hard hours#answered#🍒 anon
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[Oh shit I did something. I wrote Val and Sam as podcasters. Warning: this is fucking stupid. I literally had to just stop writing bc it made less and less sense as I went on. But I love writing dialogue and it’s silly and this is tumblr. here have a little snack my dudes]
Graveyard Girls Episode 12: Roasting Ember’s Beauty Guru Era at 1 AM
“Hello and welcome to Local Ghost Smash or Pass—”
“I will fucking kill you.”
Valerie had to admit that Sam Manson’s ability to keep a completely straight face while saying the most unhinged nonsense was probably one of the reasons their video podcast was so popular. Her own ability to refrain from actually killing her was the reason it still existed at all. How they’d made it to episode twelve, however, still remained at least partially an enigma.
Though it was overall Danny’s kindness that slowly made his trio of friends into a tenuous quartet, Valerie had slowly become accepted by all of them, once she finally came to terms with Danny’s secret. Sam was the last to come around, though by the time they were both seventeen their tension was less due to fighting over a boy and more due to the fact that they could agree on almost nothing.
Most of Graveyard Girls was the two girls arguing, originally spawned by a viral TikTok Tucker posted, in which Valerie—at Danny’s bizarre request—tried to explain The Bachelor franchise to them and Sam being convinced she was making some of it up. People had been interested, and with Amity Park being a niche-but-also-hot topic, a weekly podcast was born.
“Okay but,” Sam leaned back in a vintage-looking office chair, “if I returned as a ghost, would you sma—” Sam cut herself off with a grunt as she dodged a throw pillow.
The show was mostly the two competing to see who could get the other to essentially rage quit, and while Sam’s personality was surprisingly just as strange as those of her best friends, Valerie was competitive enough to be a worthy opponent.
“You might just be, like, the worst person,” Valerie said, expertly catching the throw pillow as it was hurled back at her. “We’re not even three minutes in and I’m so uncomfortable with the energy you’ve created.”
“So our very last episode is three minutes long and titled Valerie Quits, then?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you Manson?” For a tense moment they stared each other down. “Say it one more time, see what happens.”
“So what is today’s topic, then?”
It was a challenge, to see if Valerie had forgotten it was her turn to start. She had.
They had the Box Ghost to thank for it, too.
“Okay, so—full disclosure,” she began, and she looked at her phone, “it is…1:16 in the morning. And both of us have been awake for like…”
“More hours than usually recommended,” Sam continued, “for reasons. We wanted to get this episode out on time so we are crunching.”
“And suffering.”
“And suffering quite a bit,” Sam concluded, nodding. “So my topic is that Ember McClain is trying to release eyeshadow palettes.”
“You cannot just drop that on me.”
“It was dropped on me,” Sam told her, “I’ve had to live with this. You don’t read the DMs for our official account so you didn’t see it and this poor lady, she has this indie cosmetics company and she slides into our DMs asking ‘is this person for real? I think she’s a ghost? She wants to collab.’”
“Collab…”
“And she sent me like…a mock up. I’m putting it in the google drive so get ready.”
Valerie picked her phone, opening their shared drive and—sure enough—seeing a digital version of a very Ember-esque palette, showcasing both dark and neon shades.
“She’s unhinged. But like…some of the shimmers on here aren’t terrible.”
“That’s the thing—I don’t like the bright blues and greens but there’s potential here. I could make a look out of it.”
“I’ve got conditions—if she wants to start the beauty guru era of her ‘career’ I need a full press release saying it’s not a complex murder plot,” Valerie said.
“I swear under penalty of perjury that I’m not imprisoning your parents in hamster wheels to power my sound system,” Sam affected an impression that would positively enrage the ghostly pop star as she spun around in her chair.
“My mad power-grab via subliminal mind control is so over, okay? That was the old me. Get to fucking swatching.” Valerie continued, snickering. “We kid, but this is actually peak influencer already.”
“We’re writing her YouTube apology for her,” Sam said, and she trained her eyes on the camera before continuing, “you cannot use this. I know you’re watching, I said your name once, and your Obsession is name-searching the universe. You have to do your own YouTube apology.”
“We should edit her name out before we upload.”
“We should.”
“…We’re not going to.”
“No, and a certain somebody’s gonna be on my ass about it. We should perhaps move on…”
#danny phantom#sam manson#valerie gray#like what if I just wrote them as two weirdos talking about weird shit#that’s what I did#fanfic
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JUST LIKE YOU | Oscar Piastri
Prologue
<- PREVIOUS PART | JUST LIKE YOU MASTERLIST | NEXT PART ->
warnings: curse words, my very much created version of the vettel family (seb is married to diana vettel, his former race engineer), claire's parents being trash. christmas time! english not being my first language so sorry in advance for any mistake <3
taglist: just tell me in the comments if you wanna be tagged in the following parts!
a/n: would you like me to post Sebastian and Diana's fanfiction, History?
2022
December 20th
Switzerland
Claire
If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that there was no way in hell I should be here, on the other side of the world, getting off a plane after nearly 25 hours of flight and a layover, and just two days shy of turning twenty-one.
Or maybe there was.
I don't know.
My parents were not at all pleased that their only daughter preferred to go with a woman, a mother and married to my uncle's arch-rival for a decade now, to try to solve the little existential crisis I was having now that I had only about five months left of university.
My uncle's wife thought the same, but since I had never liked her, if my parents' opinion didn't matter to me at all, hers mattered even less.
Mark was the only one who encouraged me to go to Switzerland to see Sebastian and Diana Vettel. I'm sure that more than the conversation he had with the engineer, seeing me crying and with smudged makeup after the three and a half hours of video call with the woman, was what convinced him in the end. Obviously, we didn't achieve my goal either: figuring out what the hell to do with my life once I finished the damn studies.
Seb must be in the arrivals area. Emily wanted to go with him. I'm sorry I couldn't go, someone had to stay with Charlie and Matilda.
After seeing Diana's message and answering her not to worry about anything, I hurried out of Zurich Airport as quickly as I could in search of the father and daughter so as not to keep them waiting much longer, all while controlling my nerves about meeting them again.
We were in the midst of the Christmas season, and that was possibly the main reason why even the last nook of the airport was crowded. Also, why my fear for crowded spaces was growing.
I tried to stay calm, focusing on the noise my suitcase wheels and my sneakers made against the pavement. I breathed in and out several times until I felt the anxiety decreasing, while at the same time I had to force myself to keep moving among the crowd when I could barely pass through, ignoring the curious stares of those around me, and the occasional stupid comments about how today's youngsters didn't have manners.
Every time someone passed near me, I tried to recognize one of the two faces I was expecting to see, but it seemed that the mission of finding the Vettels was going to end up being much more difficult.
"Clare, Clare!"
A childish voice shouting my name made me stop in the middle of the road and turn in the direction of the sound, trying to figure out where it was coming from. In the distance, apart from the crowd, next to a pearly white Tesla and a girl with curly, completely blonde hair, I spotted a tall figure with long hair, a headband misplaced on the forehead, and sunglasses.
Sebastian had his hand raised in a greeting gesture, telling me to head towards them.
"Clare, it's great to see you again!"
The blonde wrapped me around his arms, and all I could do was laugh at the mere thought of telling my ten-year-old self that I would feel so comfortable with the person I once hated the most in the world.
"I would say the same, but I'm really tired and not in the mood to talk," I lied, although partly it was true. What I didn't want was to face that conversation, at least not yet. "I missed you. Well, I missed you all," I admitted.
"We've been apart for a month, Webber. Both you and I, and Di, and your uncle, thought it was going to be longer."
"Thank my mental breakdown for that then, and also that your wife is my personal Tony Stark," I laughed.
"Again with the Marvel references?" he raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "I won't judge: Di is my particular MJ, or my Gwen except she isn't dead."
I didn't have time to answer or to calm my laughter because Emily, with the typical energy of an eight-year-old, approached me bouncing around. The eldest of the Vettels reached a little below my chin, and I realized she was no longer the baby that Seb and Di used to take to the paddock every race weekend and with whom I used to play. I assumed it was the same for Charlotte and Matilda.
"Look what I drew for you!" the blonde said proudly as she handed me a paper.
I took it and admired it tenderly, carefully observing the childlike strokes that seemed to represent her parents and her sisters, with me as a special guest, as if I were one more in the family. Obviously, there couldn't be missing a Christmas tree to our right, filled with presents.
"It's very beautiful, Emily! Thank you very much," I responded as cheerfully as I could given my weariness. "Do you want us to show it to Mark when we get home and I talk to mom?"
"Yes!"
The German looked at us after putting my belongings in the car's trunk and intervened again:
"Emily has been counting the days for your arrival," he revealed, leaving me a little surprised.
"And Charlie and Matilda too. Matilda speaks baby language, and we don't understand her, but she claps every time when we talk about you," the girl added. "Since mom told us you were coming to spend a few days with us at Christmas, we asked Santa in our letters to bring you a present."
"Well, Di and I were also looking forward to your arrival," the retired driver blushed, scratching his head shyly.
I didn't know what to say, and Vettel seemed to realize it. He tried to say something else, but he ended up just telling us to get into the car because there were still about forty-five minutes to go to the family house.
I sat in the back of the car at Emily's request, and as I chatted with her and her father about how the family was doing after retiring from Formula 1, how they felt about the upcoming filming of History, the documentary where they would talk about their lives and uncover things that hadn't been made public before, and especially about the topic that worried me the most, where I could do my internships for the last semester of university, I let the whirl of thoughts invade me gradually.
After all, it wasn't every day that you set aside your own family to spend the most family-oriented time of the year with another family member less, going to the other side of the world.
Unfortunately, I didn't think that the people who created me, especially my father, would say that all this confusion I had been carrying for longer than I'd like to admit, and that I had kept silent for so long, was just an excuse to continue living off the cuff or because, simply, I didn't feel like continuing to study.
"Are you okay, Claire?"
The concern in Sebastian's voice brought me back to earth. I saw his eyes staring at me through the rearview mirror, quickly diverting his gaze from the road.
"Yes, of course. I'm just tired from the trip, as I told you before," I lied. The forced smile and tension in my voice showed the opposite.
"Are you going to be with us for all Christmas holidays?"
The girl's question, so simple and innocent, made all my pent-up doubts increase. I knew there was a remote possibility that I hadn't made the right decision, and after hearing that, I was becoming more and more sure.
Diana reassured me more times than I'd like that they didn't mind having me there as part of the family because I already was. My parents told me to do whatever I wanted, that I was old enough to make my own decisions, and that if it wasn't now, it was only a matter of time before I left for any little thing.
The disdain and arrogance with which they gave me their response made me pack my bags and call Mark to pick me up as soon as he could.
"Yes, Emily. Claire will be with us for all Christmas holidays" the German replied for me.
"Why aren't you going to spend the holidays with your mom and dad?"
I felt the knot that was already in my throat tightening more and more. I looked at Seb, begging him to help me while I tried to find an answer to the innocence of the girl without being rude or revealing to her that maybe I didn't have as cool parents as hers.
"Emily, sweetheart, that's not something you ask," Sebastian immediately reprimanded his daughter as calmly as he could, stroking her leg from his seat.
"Sorry..." the little one said with a melodic voice. I thanked him with my eyes, to which he responded with a simple tilt of his head.
"It's okay!" I hastened to say to avoid saddening her, wrapping my left arm around her. "Sometimes, parents and kids... argue, but in the end, they always make up and recognize their mistakes. Does that happen to you with mom and dad?"
"Yes!" she responded immediately. "I also argue sometimes with my sisters over toys or food, and mom scolds us, although dad almost never gets mad at us."
The conversation continued without any further altercation or mention of anything I didn't want to hear. I greatly appreciated it because time ended up passing faster than I thought, and in the blink of an eye, I could already see the dark wooden structure with white tones where I assumed the family lived.
When I spotted Diana, with Matilda in her arms, greeting us as if her life depended on it, and Charlie playing with Clifford, the family dog, I knew I had arrived at one of my second homes.
"Home sweet home, girls!"
Before the blonde even had a chance to turn off the engine and say anything else, his daughter and I were already running down to go towards his wife.
Emily, without even greeting her mother beyond a slight wave, went to play with her middle sister and with the Great Pyrenees. Diana shook her head, laughing at her daughter's attitude. She put little Matilda on the ground and, to my surprise, she started running through the grass trying to catch up with her sisters and the dog.
"Has she learned to walk already?" I pointed to the little one while the redhead gave me a hug.
"I thought you were coming so we could talk about you and your future, not so you could see the not really important progress of my family in the month we've been apart."
"I can see you didn't have sex with Seb tonight, huh? What a mood," I whispered sarcastically in her ear. She burst out laughing and started hitting my arm.
"Don't be silly! Come on, let's go inside. It's cold and we have a lot to talk about. I don't want you to catch a cold."
Calling her daughters next, who initially resigned themselves to go back home, I finally headed inside with Diana. Seb approached us shyly, as if he didn't want to bother us. Seeing him out of the corner of my eye, and out of respect, I let him pass in front of me and slowed my pace a bit, falling a little behind the couple, but that didn't stop me from seeing how the German took his wife by the waist and gave her a short kiss on the lips, showing the affection and complicity that I already knew they both had.
I wish I had something like that in the future but, as my parents must have known, who would want me with my shitty attitude?
"Claire, sweetheart, make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back."
Diana disappeared, and her daughters and husband followed her. I decided to listen to her and sat on the couch, taking a blanket that was on it to wrap myself up. After a few minutes, I spotted her again, now approaching Seb to exchange a few words in a low voice while sharing quite a few caresses for my taste and, once again, another kiss.
In a matter of seconds, the engineer disappeared and reappeared with a tray in her hands that had a couple of glasses, several beverage cans, and a colorful variety of snacks that I didn't recognize.
However, some of them were typical Australian ones. The ones from my home. My home.
I hated that Diana Vettel was one of the most amazing and humble people I had ever met because each time she made me feel more like I wanted her to adopt me, regardless me being 21 already.
"Damn, it's like you bought the whole supermarket," I commented under my breath as a defense mechanism to avoid bursting into tears.
"For you whatever it takes, darling," she answered, sitting next to me and taking a bit of the blanket to wrap herself with it too.
I stayed silent, moved by her words. Since I didn't know how to start our conversation, nor did I know if it was the right time to have it, I just looked at Sebastian, who was now in some kind of greenhouse with his daughters, teaching them what seemed to be how to plant some kind of vegetable or who knows what.
"I know it was hard for him, but he's happy," the redhead suddenly spoke, pointing to her husband. "I tried to convince him not to retire yet, and he tried everything to get me to accept the offer to be Mick's engineer at Williams," she explained. Did Diana turn down the offer to be Schumacher's engineer this upcoming season? "But I guess it was time for us to be a normal family."
"You've always been a normal family in my eyes," in a strange way, yes. They had lived from Emily's birth in 2014 until just a month ago more in any other country in the world than in this house. I would swear that it would even feel strange for them to be here for so long. "And you, how are you?"
The woman seemed surprised by the question. I knew her well, but not as much as I would like, and I knew that this was one of her typical reactions. I also knew about some difficult things for her thanks to my uncle, and others because they became public, like the alleged leaked porn video starring her and Sebastian.
However, all the negativity didn't detract from the fact that my admiration for her was maximal since I met her in 2012.
"I know you're in charge of the F1 Academy with Susie," I continued, seeing that she was still in her trance, "but I guess it's not the same as being on the pit wall directing your husband and trying to make the sport a little more inclusive in all aspects."
"You said it, it's not the same. I miss and, at the same time, don't miss being in Formula 1," she finally confessed. "Feeling so undervalued when you're trying to give so much more than your maximum... it's tough. It's hard to feel like you're enough and that you're worth something, not to mention the constant thought of whether you really deserve what you've achieved."
"For me, and probably for Seb and many others, you're more than enough, Diana. I told you when I was ten, and I still think the same: I want to be like you when I grow up."
"And I told you that you don't have to be like me, but your own version," she added. "No matter what happens, you always have to be yourself, Claire, not trying to be someone you admire."
She lowered her head, shaking it, and then raised it again to look directly at me. I saw how the greenish tone of her eyes was covered by tears that, in a way, made me feel bad for her because it wasn't my intention to make her feel bad.
"You'll become like me if you want then, darling," she continued, her voice almost breaking. "I'm more than convinced, and I'll help you as much as I can to make it happen. After all, that's why you're here, right?"
Damn, the topic I just didn't want to talk about had finally come up, but I knew I had to address it.
I didn't know if I preferred to face my uncertain future or my partially dysfunctional family.
"Yeah. That my family sucks is another reason why I'm here," I grumbled.
"What happened, darling?" she took my hands and pulled me closer to her. I rested my head on her shoulder, and she started stroking my hair, as she had often seen herself do with her daughters. "We can leave the conversation about that extensive work world for another day, but not about your parents. I know it's affecting you no matter how much you try to show otherwise with that armor you put on."
The sigh that escaped my lips was heavy, as if I needed it to start slowly unloading the heavy burden I had on me.
"I don't know why my parents don't understand me," I started, my voice directly charged with frustration and, let's not say it, sadness. "I don't know what the hell to do with my life," I heard Diana scolding me for the curse word, but I didn't care, "and it bothers me that they can't put themselves in my shoes when, look, they've already been in my shoes."
"Claire..."
"Damn it, Diana, I'm their only daughter. If they don't want to support me, they could just refrain from giving it to me, not tell me that all this is an excuse to keep studying or... I don't know, not to start working or whatever bullshit they come up with."
The woman looked at me with compassion, nodding her head. She didn't know it, but something inside me was sure that she did understand me, and it hurt that it was just a person who hardly belonged in my life and not those who had given it to me.
"It's normal for you to feel this way, in the work field I mean," thanks for changing the subject, Mrs. Vettel. "I went through it in early 2011 when I saw that my graduation was getting closer and, therefore, the end of my contract as a trainee," she replied. I knew she wasn't the only one, I knew it. "If ninety percent of me sensed that they wouldn't renew me, the remaining ten percent thought I wouldn't even continue working in Formula 1. Obviously, with too much luck and thanks to a lot of Seb's influence, it was the opposite."
She took a sip of water, put a small Reese's in her mouth and, putting her hand in front of her mouth, continued:
"They say that choosing what you want to dedicate yourself to, supposedly, for the rest of your life is the worst part, but no one warns you that the end of the journey is the worst part of it," she said honestly. For God's sake, was this woman good at everything? "I know how hard it must be for you to feel this way, especially when you expect support and being understood from those who should give it to you the most. Luckily, you have your uncle and your aunt, just like I had my uncle and my aunt."
"Eloise is my uncle's wife, that doesn't make her my aunt. Not to mention the shitty behaviors she has towards me," I corrected her coldly.
"I've also been a victim of that snake, and I ended up blaming it on your uncle, so don't worry."
"The thing is, it's frustrating, you know?" I continued, ignoring the last thing she had said. "Knowing that you can't be honest and you have to constantly pretend to be the perfect daughter."
"Nobody's perfect, Claire, and as long as you're here, with us, these days, I won't allow you to be," the redhead assured me. "You can be honest about anything without fear of being judged by us, because it won't happen."
I looked up at her and was surprised. It was the first time someone, besides Mark, had taken my side and understood me.
"You're not going to take my parents' side?"
"I don't have to excuse them when I think they're not right," she revealed. "Being a parent is... difficult, and when you're all born, you don't come with a manual on how we should educate and raise you under your arm, and they don't give it to us later either, right? But there is something in which I understand your parents.
"In what?"
Diana Vettel directed her gaze towards where her daughters and husband still were. She chuckled softly and glanced back at me, giving my thigh a little tap.
"You'll understand someday if you ever become a mother, or care about someone so much that you always want them by your side."
Before I could even respond, she got up from the couch, swiftly tossing off the blanket, which ended up falling on my face. Her bare feet thudded heavily on the floor as she moved quickly, heading towards the stairs, forcing me to run to catch up with her.
"Where the hell are you going?" I shouted, breathless, gripping the staircase railing to catch my breath.
She didn't respond beyond telling me to watch my language, as the girls might hear us. I admired her as a mother, but sometimes she was so good at it that it exhausted me. The only consolation was knowing that Seb often let out curses in front of their daughters and prayed to whoever was with them not to tell Di, as he fondly called her.
"Diana, I would truly appreciate it if you could let me know in advance if you're planning any outings. I've been on a plane and in an airport all day, and there's nothing I want more right now than to crawl into bed and pray that jet lag doesn't hit me."
"Shush," she immediately responded as she sat down in front of the computer on the desk in what seemed to be her office. "I've been thinking about something for a few days now, and we need your uncle's help."
My uncle? How was Mark going to help me with my existential crisis, to shelter me in his house?
No way. I'd have to endure his wife, and I'd pay all the money in the world not to see his face.
"Mark isn't going to help us, I'm telling you," I replied, getting a bit annoyed by the uncertainty. "Who do you think he is, Cinderella's fairy godmother or something?"
"No," she said, scrolling through her FaceTime contacts until she found one labeled M. Webber, just below another one labeled Lara, followed by a bunch of heart emojis and weird faces, "but he might be able to help you land an internship."
"Mark already has a lot on his plate," I began to say as the redhead pressed the call button. "Dealing with Eloise, for example, takes a lot of work, and..."
"Hello, Mark!"
My uncle's smiling face and raised hand filled the screen. I knew his smile was a bit forced because he had heard the comment I made about his wife, but as always, he turned a deaf ear.
"Well, well, what's going on over there, ladies?"
"You must be kidding..." I muttered, earning a smack on the arm from Diana. "Fine, Mark, fine," I finished, shooting them both a disgruntled look.
"The thing is, putting aside formalities, after your niece more or less told me about the little problem she has with your brother and sister-in-law, and after I've been mulling over what we talked about the other day, I've come up with something," the engineer explained.
Mark furrowed his brow slightly, a bit confused and apparently a bit worried by the words of his former teammate's wife.
"Go ahead, it's all yours."
"Claire is a bit confused about what to do with her future," I stifled a laugh. I wished it was just a bit, and all this didn't feel like it was making me want to tear my hair out, "and she also has to do her final year internship. I thought that, if possible, we could help her do it in a Formula 1 team."
My eyes widened in surprise, and I shouted "what" louder than I had ever said anything in my life. My heart started pounding at the mere thought of me, Claire Webber, in a team of the sport I loved most in the world. I even started to feel dizzy with the idea.
"Are you kidding me, right?" was all I could say to Vettel.
"Do you want Claire to be Diana Vettel 2.0?" my uncle asked with a hint of sarcasm. "Are you planning to create a pilot project and then implement it with your daughters?"
"Neither one thing nor the other," the woman replied, quite agitated, crossing her arms. "Your niece doesn't need to be the second version of anyone. She's already her own version."
My uncle fell silent, realizing he had screwed up royally. Diana, on the other hand, tried not to make a big deal out of it, although she knew it might have affected him. She asked me to take the chair from what used to be Seb's desk and sit next to her, and so I did.
"According to the Teaching Plan of the University of Melbourne, Claire should start her internship period next January. The season doesn't start until March, but she could try to request some kind of leave," Diana explained in detail. I was pleasantly surprised that she had informed herself so much, and especially that she offered to help me.
"Don't worry, Diana. I can look for another place to..."
"As I told you before, I haven't forgotten that since we met in 2012, you've been telling me that you wanted to be like me," she interrupted. "Every time we've had the chance to spend time together, you've emphasized your dream of wanting to be part of this world, so if you not only have the chance but also the talent to make it happen, that's how I'm going to try to do it."
I nodded, accepting her proposal and everything that came with it. If this was my chance to pursue my biggest dream, and I could do it hand in hand with my own Tony Stark, then I had to make the most of it.
"So I should go starting from early March, right?" my uncle wanted to know, seemingly agreeing with everything.
"Yes, but I think it would be even better if she went to the preseason tests," the redhead asserted, getting closer and closer to the screen. "Maybe that way she can make herself seen and, perhaps, do something to get noticed by a team..."
I stopped paying attention to the conversation they were having because my eyes drifted to the back of the image emanating from my uncle. I saw as the door behind him slowly opened, revealing the figure of a guy I had never seen in my life.
His light brown hair fell slightly over his forehead. The color of his eyes was also brown, though a bit darker, and they stood out quite a bit against his fair skin. His shoulders slumped downwards, his gaze was almost downcast, and he seemed to move with such calmness that I didn't know if it was because he was tired or because he was just naturally laid-back.
"Mark," he began to say, "am I interrupting or...?"
"No, no, no worries! Come in and make yourself comfortable, Oscar!" my uncle replied. "I'm talking to Diana Vettel, who you surely already know," he greeted her with a wave and asked how she was, "and this is my niece, Claire."
"She's the one you've talked to me so much about, right? The one who's my age, studies Aerospace Engineering, and is almost as passionate about Formula 1 as I am."
Who the hell was Oscar, what the hell was he doing at my uncle's house at seven-thirty in the evening, and why did he know so much about my existence?
#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri fanfic#op81#oscar piastri one shot#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x you#formula 1#formula 1 imagine#formula one#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 one shot#fanfic#fanfiction#grumpy x sunshine#grumpy#sunshine#sebastian vettel#sebastian vettel x reader#sv5#mark webber
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Love is An Unfamiliar Name (Pt. 1)
You’re a sucessful and methodic award winner music composer and producer, that after working on a few movies got invited to coordinate the sound department on a TV series, by your busy and controlled schedule, it will be just another project on your portifolio… but life sometimes has a funny way to surprise you.
Wordcount: 1,6k
A/N: guys just be nice to me since this is my first fic haha, that i decided to write just for fun. I apologize if there is any mistakes since english is not my first language. In this first chapter i tried to give a little bit of our main caracter background (she may seem a little stupid at first, but she’s got a big heart and is just scared of showing too much affection). And since this is a real person celebrity fic i tried just to write a fun story. Hope you like it :)
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Dinner
"Goodbye, boss! Could you please brief me on how the meeting will unfold?" Jennifer says with a smile.
"Stop calling me that! Jesus!" you respond with a less than welcoming expression, that might scare those unaware of your kind nature.
Jennifer continues to laugh, saying, "Oh, come on! I'm just getting into the spirit. I've already gathered the entire team for the project and sent you the email with the details. I heard this guy Craig is as methodical as you."
She takes another sip of a drink, the contents of which are unclear due to the image quality, but you assume it's some kind of energy-boosting juice. "I also discovered he's a fan of your work, so you're all set! The brainstorming session you organized for the plot is fantastic", she adds, concluding with a laugh, "Bye, good luck, bossy!".
“Bye Jenny!”
Jennifer, has been your assistant of nearly a decade and a friend for much longer, understood your aversion to titles. Despite this, for the next ten months at least, you were going to assume the role of a boss. Coordinating an entire sound team was no easy feat; having experience on both sides, you were well aware of the challenges ahead. However, in this case, you were not just a regular composer working on a typical project. You were a fan adapting one of your favorite games for the big screen, something that filled you with anxiety.
As Jenny had predicted, the meeting was a success. Time seemed to fly by as you delved into your passion for music and its transformative impact on a serie. This phase of your career gave you the freedom to choose your collaborators, and Craig was someone you wanted work with for some time. Over the course of a three-hour Zoom call, you found that you connected well, not only with Craig but also with the rest of the team. Together, you had a productive briefing, establishing the desired atmosphere that would align with both the essence of the game and the script you held in your hands.
As life began to regain its rhythm post-lockdown, you still felt a hint of anxiety about going out and mingling with more than four people. However, this evening called for celebration with your friends, primarily because Jenny wouldn't let you be, insisting that you only pretended to enjoy being by yourself. She believed you needed "some drinks, good food, laughter, tears, and maybe getting laid."
Following your last breakup, you had made a promise to yourself to not date anyone for a year, a vow you upheld not just for one year but for the following one as well. Suddenly, all the men and women you encountered seemed uninteresting, but you still had some fun in one night standings, which by the way made some of the people you met quite angry, as you would just leave without saying anything.
As soon as you arrived at the bistro booked by Jenny for you and the girls, Maria said out loud, “Here comes THE GOAT!!”
'”Shhhhh, Maria! This is a private place,' you whispered, glancing over your shoulder, although people were imerged in their own worlds and conversations, allowing you and your friends to enjoy a pleasant girl night.
“Come on, girl, you're the award winner here, not to mention THE SOUND COORDINATOR! Aren't you thrilled?” Jenny attempted to lighten the mood.
“Of all the episodes, by the way” Amy chimed in.
“Yes, girls, of course, I'm happy”, you replied with a smile. “I am a bit nervous and overwhelmed. It's going to be a year-long project, surrounded by a considerable number of people, that might include some famous individuals whose crazy egos I definitely don't enjoy working with.'
“But hey, you’re not a jane doe honey” Jenny added.
You went on to explain the challenges of dealing with ego driven actors. 'I don't even know what the Game of Thrones guy is like in real life, we only spoke via Zoom. He's an actor; he could portray niceness on screen and be difficult in real life. We all know that's a possibility.'
Jenny and Maria appeared surprised or apprehensive you couldn’t understand the reason, so you kept going, 'He's an actor; he can pretend to be nice and be a dick off-screen; we all know this can happen.'
“Girl… just…” Amy interjected, her expression showing concern.
'What?!” You interrupted her “ Amy, I'm not lying... I'll have to talk to him a lot,' you retorted, visibly frustrated by the thought.
"Stop!”, she continued.
“Why?” Judging by the expression on the girls' faces, you knew you had messed something up. Were the HBO executives present? Where anyone that shouldn’t be there listening to you? Damn it.
Resignation.
This time, Jenny spoke in a hushed tone, “By the 'Game of Thrones' guy, you mean the one sitting right behind you?” She attempted to maintain calm so you would’t crack. She said something else, but you were so flustered that you couldn't make out her words or anyone else's. Should you turn around to face the person behind you? Should you chuckle and say you were joking? Should you just...
“Well, I assure you I'm not a dick, even if someone who doesn't know me may think so,” a male voice behind you interjected. Damn the Game of Thrones guy.
You turned to face him, and he continued, “Hi, pleased to meet you in person, award winner sound coordinator. Well… I'm the Game of Thrones guy, or Pedro, whichever you prefer.” His words made you reflect on how snob you must have sounded. He had heard everything. You felt awful.
“Oh, well, pleased to meet you in person too, Pedro! I didn’t…” You struggled to form a coherent sentence in your head. Damn, he smelled good. “My name is... um… I am…” Nothing seemed to make sense in your mind anymore. Why say your name when you had spoken to him before?
“Never mind,” he said, smiling. “I know your name and who you are. We met before. By the way, I'm a huge fan of your work.” He knew how to be cirurgical yet polite, which made you chuckle, even though you just wanted to vanish.
Pedro was undeniably good-looking, not exactly your cup of tea, but you couldn't deny his charm. The way he responded to your stupid remarks made him seem more intriguing. You felt a bit woozy. What had you gotten yourself into?
“Pedro, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m sorry,” you apologized, attempting to clarify. “I'm terrible with names.” You were being honest. Now he appeared more serious, and your voice began to tremble. “I mean... I'm only making things worse, aren't I?”
“A little bit,” he chuckled softly, sounding genuine. Glancing over his shoulder, you noticed a beautiful brunette lady at the other end of the table. You waved, receiving a forced smile in return. Back to Pedro. Stop behaving like a teenager. Pull yourself together. Jenny said something, but you didn't catch it. Keep. It. Together.
"I guess I'm the one who came off as a jerk... I know I sounded pretentious, and I apologize," you began, finding your voice. "I've had some really bad experiences with certain actors and their egos, so I was worried you might be like them… so i…" All those therapy sessions seemed to be paying off; he was listening to you, paying attention not only to your words but also to your uncomfortable gestures. You pushed past the discomfort and continued, "I'm truly sorry. I didn't mean to offend you." Your voice dropped to almost a whisper in the last sentence.
"So you might want to think twice before mentioning someone’s name in a private restaurant in Los Angeles, don't you think?" He spoke with a hint of irony, almost provocatively. You took the bait.
"Not tha-" You were about to respond when Jenny interjected, "Hey! I believe Pedro here has a date to attend to, right buddy?" He nodded smiling, and Maria chimed in, "And you, girl, promised us a night out and turned it into a work-related gathering." Those girls were true diplomats.
"I don’t want to take up any more of your time, Pedro," you said, maintaining a serious expression as you locked eyes with his dark gaze, your usual impenetrable poker face firmly in place.
"Never mind," he replied. "By the way-"
"Hey babe, do you want to call your friends to join us?" the attractive lady accompanying him interjected, her tone dripping with irony.
"It won't be necessary," Maria retorted, clearly annoyed. She was hungry, and anyone who knew her understood how irritable she could get when hunger struck. You KNEW she was on the verge of losing her cool.
"I'm sorry for this disruption; we didn't mean to interrupt your date, guys."
"Sorry... you do seem to like that word, don't you?" The pretty brunette girl knew how to be ironical.
"Yeah, thanks for the heads up," you responded, laughing almost manically and subtly holding Maria back, knowing she was on the brink of saying something that could have gotten all four of you kicked out of the restaurant. Jenny steered you to another table far away from them, while Amy engaged the waiter in conversation. Your hands felt as cold as ice.
"See you soon, sound coordinator... oops, AWARD-winning sound coordinator," he said with a chuckle as he returned to his table. "Hopefully, we can prove to each other that we're nice people."
"I'm looking forward to it... Game of Thrones guy." You waved and smiled more than necessary as you both returned to your respective dinner conversations.
You replayed this encounter in your mind all the way home. How could he not be angry with you? There were still a few months until filming begins, and yet you felt an unfamiliar sense of anxiety creeping in. Opening your door, you continued to mull over his ironic parting words: "Hopefully, we can prove to each other that we're nice people," you repeated with a grin.
"Well, I suppose we'll have to wait and see.” You said.
Wait. And. See.
#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal imagine#pedrohub#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x f!reader#pedro pascal x female reader
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Okay, so I saw a post on Twitter a couple days ago by @leonisloresmith, where basically the idea is that the Ancients used to look different before they got their Soul Jams, and I liked the idea a lot. Cut to 24 hours later and it’s still on my mind, and so I’m like “screw it I’m stealing the idea” and so we got this
So yeah, pre-Soul Jam Ancients. I guess it’s sort of an AU, since as far as I can tell, in actual canon the Ancients have always looked the way they do
It’s only Hollyberry, Dark Cacao and Golden Cheese because they were the only ones I had thought about things for. I had drawn Pure Vanilla, but I realized that I wasn’t working with any real ideas, I was just drawing him for the sake of drawing them all, so I decided to just finish up these three for now and save Vanilla and Lily for another day
The original post didn’t specify changing the ingredients, but I wanted to because to be honest, there’s not a whole lot you can do to change their appearances while keeping their original names in my opinion. But I thought I should keep their core flavors similar, still being vanilla, berries, cacao/chocolate, cheese and flower (though I stuck with lilies to be consistent)
I have names for all of them, though tbh I’m still debating White Lily’s
Juniper Berry -> Hollyberry
Cacao Nib -> Dark Cacao
Cheese Dust -> Golden Cheese
Vanilla Bean -> Pure Vanilla
Wood Lily -> White Lily
It isn’t the names for the other two I’m particularly stuck on, rather it’s their backstories. Speaking of which, let’s get to what I have
So first, Juniper Berry. Juniper here I’m thinking came from a family that runs an inn or tavern, mostly just because of the whole berry juice thing. I imagine that despite the likely rowdy nature of her upbringing, it was a pretty good one. Truth be told that’s all I think I have to say on the matter, a lot less than I thought
I made her juniper berries because I wanted something in a different color, maybe something blue. And also because I randomly saw that juniper berries are apparently used in gin, and again, berry juice. I apologize to the Hollyberry fans, I really just focus on the berry juice aspect of her character when I know she has more going on. I was debating if I should make her skinnier, with the idea that she would have grown physically after getting her Soul Jam, but then I thought that’d be a really bad idea so I kept her as is. She can still be a strong girl and have Cacao be the one with the large physical change. Also I made her eyebrows round because that’s what Royal Berry has
Speaking of Cacao Nib, let’s get to him. So I imagine that Cacao grew up somewhere around the coast of the region and that generally, what family he had wasn’t very well off, and that he had to take on a lot of responsibility at a young age to help out. He’s also very small, even for his age. He also might be mute, or otherwise just very quiet
Okay this is one of my hyperfixation characters so I have more to say on him. I was struggling with his flavor since there’s not a lot you can do while keeping him cacao, but someone suggested to me cacao nibs and I went with that. As for his eyes, well they’re red because of Dark Choco. As for why the eye lines are dark, if you recall a previous post, I said I’m now headcanoning him as having some ancestry from the Licorice Tribe due to having sea salt in his dough (though not like his parents or anything, grandparents at least), and so I wanted to reference that here, as well as with his pin. It’s also why I’m putting him at the coast. Now granted, I recognize it makes more sense to make him related to the Coffee Tribe, with cacao having caffeine in it and his dilated pupil thing, but shush, let me do what I want. I wanted to make him the shortest so that basically, when he gets his Soul Jam, he magically shoots up to being the tallest, or maybe second tallest behind Hollyberry. Also him being short fits in with my headcanon that he’s the youngest Ancient
Next up and our final one for today, we have Cheese Dust. So Cheese was technically an orphan Cookie, but she was taken in and raised by a flock of Cheesebirds. She likes gold and shiny things, and also she does a lot of inventing, making small gadgets in her spare time, and trying to figure out if she can make functional wings for herself
I went with cheese dust for her because I think her original book description talked about cheese dust in it. And it sounds a little better than Cheese Powder to me. I know I made her eyes completely different than canon, but in part it was inspired by the other non-Golden Cheese Kingdom Cookies like Cheesecake and Roguefort, and also her eyes being triangle shaped in old concept art. And I just wanted to. The hair’s inspired by other pieces of concept art with her hair down, though I was struggling with what color to make it, eventually going with this. I wanted to make her the second shortest, being a bit taller than Cacao (though the difference is a lot smaller in the final picture), with the idea that while Cacao grows after getting her Soul Jam, she doesn’t, and so now she’s the shortest of the group
And I think that’s it for now, hopefully I’ll be able to get ideas for Vanilla and Lily done soon, I hope you find this enjoyable
#also disregard that I’ve used some of these names for previous fankids and OCs#I’m personally choosing to ignore that#cookie run#cookie run kingdom#cookie run au#pre soul jam ancients#hollyberry cookie#dark cacao cookie#golden cheese cookie#my art#what else do I tag this
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[ 𝗧𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘𝗥 ] ― 𝟏𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐔𝟐 !
ㅤㅤㅤTHE 12 STAGES OF GETTING CORRUPTED BY LEE MINHO.
PAIRING lee minho x female!reader. (ft. hwang hyunjin). CONTENT smut, pwp, dance partners!au, virgin!reader, fuckboy!minho, corruption!au. LENGTH +20k. WARNINGS unprotected sex, mentions of anxiety, consume of alcohol, possesive beahivour, jealousy, angsty scenes. NOTE i am so happy to finally share my first plotted fic with you. thank you for giving me the space to write. here’s the first part !
TAGLIST CURRENTLY CLOSED ― FULL FIC POSTED HERE !
ㅤㅤㅤ© erotichan 2022. translating and/or reposting is not allowed.
If there’s one person you never thought you’d have your first time with, it's Lee Minho.
Everything you know about his life has been discovered against your will, and you have to say you know him all too well. You have been training as dancers since you were children and have gone through not only puberty, but also adulthood together. Sounds cute, doesn’t it? Yes, bullshit. Having grown up with the same social circles meant finding out about each of his relationships and adventures that you could never care less about, while he never heard the slightest anecdote coming from you.
Minho knows that today, having the same age and practically the same life as him, you are a total novice and inexperienced chick in absolutely everything. The issue here is that you two are not friends. You were convinced that it would stay that way until the last of your days, however, your relationship took a resounding twist the moment you got into your coach’s van.
The day you parted towards the annual competition city started as normal as any day next to Minho could start. Both of you got into that van with a common destiny, but with interests as different as the seats you choose. While you sat in the back next to the academy junior, Hwang Hyunjin, he sat in the front ― and he didn’t take his eyes off the rearview mirror.
It’s a bit confusing to explain how it all started for Minho. He has had his eyes on you quite since you became teenagers. It was fair at first, you had stopped being a little girl and your physical appearance caught his attention. It got personal as the years went by and you didn’t show any kind of interest in the change he had made. You weren’t impressed by his good looks, by his personality, by his popularity, anything. The fact that you didn’t pay attention to him like the rest turned him so curious, it aroused a curiosity that morphed into a kind of obsession with having your eyes on him.
That being said, the routine developed with a fluid rhythm the first few days. You traveled, settled in the assigned rooms, shared your meals as a team, practiced, and ended up in the current situation. Searching for relaxation.
It took you three days to find out that there was a jacuzzi in the hotel, unlike Minho who made good use of it since arriving. The dark, humid night made it a bit difficult for him to differentiate the figure he found submerged in the water. Once he got close enough he recognized no one other than you. His muscles were atrophied, they got even more tensed from remembering how tight the air had felt to him throughout those endless traveling hours days ago. There you were, so quiet and calm unlike that trip where the only thing he heard over the coach’s old-fashioned choice of music was your laughter after the cheeky flirting attempts coming from the younger guy.
And there you were too, not knowing that only minutes separated you from making the biggest mistake you had ever made.
"Can we share?", Minho asks, leaning over the edge of the hot tub. His voice appears so sudden that it scares you.
You turn your head and make eye contact with him before answering. Nevertheless, he doesn't wait for your approval to dive to the other side. "You're already diving in," you point out the obvious.
"I know, I just didn't want to lose my manners."
You watch askance, he settles in with a small groan of satisfaction. Your arms surround your figure, holding yourself in place. It's not easy to hide how weird you feel with Minho's presence alone. It's not awkward, it's just a weird feeling that you would have had with any other guy.
Minho analyzes your reaction and draws his own conclusions from that strange expression on your face. With a chuckle, he confronts you as brazenly as he usually does. "I don't work out 4 hours a day for you to be disgusted at seeing me shirtless."
His comment makes you aware of how tight your features are, and you relax them. You must have looked so impolite. "Sorry, this is a bit strange."
"Why? Would it be just as weird if Hyunjin joined us?”
Your features contract again. Minho laughs, he got exactly what he expected.
“Just kidding”, he smiles. “I didn't know that Hyunjin and you were so close. I never see you talking in dance classes.”
The accusation turns you as confused as you can be. Still, you don't mind clearing things up. "We are friends. We usually talk outside class.”
He nods. "I see".
The hot water invites him to cup his hands to take a small amount and wet his dry neck. The drops fall along his collarbones, down his chest, and you realize your eyes are following them when they reach his pectorals.
“How about the rest of your friends? I haven't heard from them in a long time”, Minho interrupts your inspection.
Your eyes instantly flip to his. Your eyelashes give away the movement, and that's why you don't hesitate to respond with a little suddenness to hide it. A bit of irony, rather. “What do you mean you haven't heard from my friends? How odd. I thought you were popular with everyone.”
There's Minho's laugh again. You can vibrate in the same tune if you put your mind to it, and that seems hilarious to him. “Nevermind. I already remembered why I can't have a serious conversation with you."
"Because you don’t try it. You only say stupid things that make me uncomfortable.”
Minho arches one of his eyebrows. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”
Your question is tricky. Minho stretches his legs out on purpose, moving closer to you without being so obvious. You feel the closeness of his limbs and shrink in place. Your actions are a little bit demonstrative.
"No", you still whisper. "It's just that you and I aren't that close but you act like we were."
"What are you talking about? We've known each other since we were kids."
"That's why. You're still acting just as immature."
The laughter doesn't stop on Minho's part, and you still can't figure out what's so funny. Your body gets smaller and smaller, and he gets more and more comfortable. "Why are you so mean to me?"
"I'm not mean. I just don't like getting involved in these… type of situations… with you”.
He mirrors the confused expression on his own face, but the smile doesn't fade. He’s excited about knowing what your acting is about because it means he'll understand how you see him. With no second thought, he fires off his next accusation of the night. “Why? Are you afraid someone thinks we're close?"
The way his lips pout tickles your insides, in a bad way. Minho can look so arrogant even when he doesn't mean to.
You look around, making it more than clear that his words are true.
“It's nothing personal, Minho. You have a terrible reputation with girls."
“And what? That doesn't mean I'm―”
“A whore?”
“No―”
You giggle at your own insinuation. You don't even know where that came from. "I'm sorry", you drop your head down. "Judging someone by their body counts it's too old fashioned."
Minho won't let you pass it by, clearly. “You just said I was a whore”.
“Yeah, I know. I just wanted to know what it felt like answering like you do.”
Thoughts mix inside Minho's head. There is something interfering with his initial purpose of getting your attention that leads him to be brusquely honest. The corner of his mouth lifts, but this time he doesn't laugh. No, he doesn't find what he's about to say funny. It is wonderful to him as if it were a discovery.
“I knew you were kind of a weirdo, but, now I get why you haven’t been laid on yet”.
Your eyelids fail to close smoothly, your blinks are literally jerky with how brazen and shameless what you heard was. "Excuse me?"
The realization that Minho knows this information about you makes you feel insecure all of a sudden, and the way your brows rise gives it away.
“What the even fuck does that mean?”, you add.
Minho points his finger at you to explain himself. “It is obvious that you are the ideal type of many boys, but you have a very loose tongue for them to take advantage of you so easily.”
You really don't understand how the conversation got sidetracked here. Your parted lips show that you have no words. You don't know if you feel scared or disappointed by what you hear.
“Is that what you do with girls? Is that why you're so popular?"
Minho snorts. Your accusation bears some truth and he doesn’t care to deny it.
“Do I look like the type of person who engages in small talk? No girl has ever stopped to meet me."
Worry leaves your body like a cloud of smoke. You can't take seriously that little part of his speech that tries to hold some pity. Your eyes narrow, and you bring your hand to your chest. "Oh, poor thing."
Your teasing makes him laugh, but his attention is drawn to the water running down your chest at your hand gesture. Just as you did previously without him noticing, now he inspects how easy it will be to move on inside the talk. You, of course, advance.
"You fuck all the girls you want but none of them know about your traumas," you insinuate with heavy sarcasm, putting on the most tetchy expression of pity. "It must be really hard being you."
It's inevitable, Minho laughs out loud. Genuinely.
“I didn't remember you being so funny,” he confesses.
"I already told you. It's because you don't know as much about me as you make it seem."
Your response feels victorious, righteous enough to make it your last words. You decide to put an end to your relaxation session, and so you get up with the purpose of leaving. You scan the surroundings until you find the towel you brought for yourself. Minho imitates you, and just as you, he realizes that it’s behind him. He reaches out his arm and takes it.
What a gentleman, you wrongly think.
As soon as you hold out your hand thinking he'll give it to you, Minho moves the towel out of your reach. You stretch towards it by inertia, and you end up inevitably closer to him. Minho looks up to meet your gaze that tries to be hard on him but only makes him smile mischievously.
"Do you really think I don't know you that well?", he asks.
The question feels out of place given the clear outcoming of the scene that doesn't seem so clear to him. You don't even say a word, you just insist on taking the towel that doesn't reach your hand since Minho has other plans. He is too curious about the discussed topic to let it go.
“How can it not be hard for you?”, he insists. "Aren't you desperate to have something, anything?"
You know exactly what kind of thing he's referring to. You can't understand why the fuck you're talking about your inexperience with Lee Minho.
“Unlike some people, I do know how to control what I have between my legs”, you assure proudly.
You press your hand on the edge next to him so you don't lose your balance, and reach out trying to snatch the towel away from him. Obviously, you fail to do so. Minho throws the towel away and doesn't even give you time to judge his actions. His now-free hand slides up the back of your thigh, giving you the gentlest push to get you to lean into his body.
It all happens too fast, it takes you more than a second to process that his hands have settled you on his lap. Your eyes stay locked on his as if you're afraid to look at anything that's happening and accept that you're, in fact, straddling him.
The air becomes warm, tense. You've never experienced this kind of modesty, it's an embarrassment that leaves you frozen. The fabric of your swimsuit is a bit thinner than usual, and it makes you realize that you are much closer to Minho than you think. It’s so intimate that it becomes ridiculous. It doesn't make sense for you to be in this position, with this guy.
“What are you doing?”, you ask in a whisper.
Minho brings his arms back, he rests his elbows on the edge of the jacuzzi showing that he will not touch you without you approving the situation. Of course, he then answers your question hoping that it leads to that approval.
"I want you to try to control what you have between your legs now."
You could have laughed, but you don't. His request is so obscene, you know he's referring to his cock — you can feel the contact with your crotch so vividly. Your heartbeat accelerates, it makes you nervous to be aware that your cunt is reacting. The heat that runs through your body also runs between the middle of your legs and the pathetically correct angle at which you are sitting.
Minho doesn't want you to misunderstand his seemingly vulgar intentions, so he adds the second part of his proposal. "Or you can slap me for being a whore like you said, and walk away."
But no, strangely, you don't want to leave. You don't want to slap him. Why the hell don't you want to walk away and slap him? You should run away right now!
"Why would I slap you?", is the only thing that comes out of your mouth.
You swallow hard, your throat feels dry. Your eyes drop to Minho's shoulders, and your trembling hands follow the target to rest on top of them. Your fingers are cold from exposing your hands to the wind after pulling them out of the water, but Minho loves the feeling of them on his skin.
You have so many questions, so many doubts, and so many things that you could use as an explanation as to why you are not resisting. It's definitely not because you want to do anything with him, but having to develop such a statement and expect Minho to believe it would be wasting your breath.
You lower your head a little embarrassed, and look at the small bulge that forms in Minho's shorts below you. You just wanted the damn towel and now you're wondering what happens next. You look up, and once you meet his gaze, you decide to be honest about what you think.
"I don't know what you expect me to do, but I don't like you taking advantage of my inexperience."
Minho instantly denies with his head. "I'm not taking advantage of it. I'm giving you opportunities to make it disappear."
Oh, how thoughtful he is.
"That doesn't mean I want to take them, Minho."
He understands, he really does. But he also knows the general reactions enough to know that if nothing was holding you back, you wouldn't be sitting on him right now.
“Do you want to do it right now? The answer can only be yes, or no.”
"Of course I want to, but this feels weird", you admit, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. "Doing it like this, without prior context... it's weird."
"It's not weird, it's the easy way", he contradicts with a click of his tongue. "Do you know why so many people explore their love and sex life in a loose and carefree way?"
No, if you knew the answer you wouldn't still be a virgin at this age.
You shake your head from side to side, and freeze as Minho reaches up to your face to give it to you. His lips remain just an inch away from yours, and his eyebrows make a quick wiggle that you can't even register when you hear his voice.
"Because they don't get tangled."
The air compressing your chest is released in the form of a sigh that hits Minho's mouth warmly. His eyes invite you to believe that he is an expert on the subject that you should trust. So, without even thinking about it for a fraction of a second, you press your lips to his to test what he said.
"People just do that?", you question, almost disoriented. Your words are airy. “Without any kind of feeling or explanation?”
Minho brings his hands to your sides, acknowledging the green light. His fingers cushion your hips, subtly nudging them to press against his.
"No, actually there is a feeling”, he clarifies. "It's called lust."
“Lust?”, you repeat the word.
"Do you know what lust is?"
Of course you know, but somehow you're ashamed to admit it, and that's why your body speaks for you. The way your skin gets covered in goosebumps, your breathing becomes even heavier, and the tremor in your hips as you feel the friction in your cunt form the answer to his question.
You swallow again, conditioned by your obvious nerves. "I get an idea of what it is."
Minh smiles. His tongue slides between his lips as he licks them, leaving you plenty of room for you to imagine what he can do with it. The pressure in his hands increases, you move your hips closer to his on purpose.
"Well, let me clear the picture for you", is the last combo of words that gets exchanged between the two.
His moist lips meet yours in a juicily. It doesn't feel wrong as it should, in fact, it awakens within you a curiosity of wanting more. Your mouth follows the movements of his until you manage to find a comfortable path. Your bottom lip gets sucked on briefly, leaving you stunned and elated at the same time. How is it possible that such a small action can make you feel heat between your legs?
Your restlessness encourages Minho to limit your hips, and not only that, but to give them the movement he wants. He drags them back and forth and ignites that sparkling contact between your wet folds. The swimsuit is so suitable for this. The way both bodies achieve friction surprises you, you didn’t know that it was so easy and effective when it comes to getting turned on. You always doubted how someone could get wet so quickly before having sex, and now you understand it; your body reacts to what it has to react to with the right person.
Suddenly, your thoughts get interrupted by his lips’ absence. It works to catch your breath but it shakes you off just as quickly — Minho's mouth reaches your neck with no warning. Your eyes don't open, they press almost as hard as his fingers dig into your waist.
Minho definitely enjoys this more than you, he did want it beforehand.
You feel something strange in the area he’s kissing, something that makes you tilt your head to the opposite side. It's wet, it's ticklish, it's warm. The erotic sound you hear when you feel all that disappear makes you understand that he has released a suction on your skin. You don't know exactly how to react, however, you don't have time to do it. His palms climb up your back and push you gently to draw you to his face again. And your lips meet again.
Damn, your mouths can’t stop meeting between breath and breath.
Not sooner had you registered how hot your blood is pumping through your veins than you registered the entry of Minho's tongue into your mouth. You allow it, and you follow it. It's a new sensation and interestingly not as grotesque as you imagined. It's not as disastrous as it should be. The only disaster is your arousal’s moisture lubricating your insides. You are so aware of his pressing cock under you that you ignore the effect it’s having on your own sex. You're sure Minho isn't physically able to control his erection, but you know he's aware of it as well.
You press down on his shoulders so firmly that you dig your nails into his back, and push yourself away from his mouth. You move those inches away from his face with a sigh that feels as if you've let him suck your soul out. You make eye contact with him, but you quickly avoid it.
"Sorry, I, I don't know what the hell I'm doing."
Your honesty is joined by a short shake of your head. Minho tries to process your reaction, realizing that you're regretting humoring him. He silently surveys you, and he brings his hand up to your chin for you to look back at him.
“You good?”, he asks, hoping you'll pick up where you were.
But you don't. No, you're not as ready for this as you wanted to make it seem.
"Yes, but I don't know what I'm doing”, you repeat.
You sigh a second time, and taking advantage of the hold you still have on his shoulders, you push yourself up. Minho's arms slide from your figure as you rise and fall to his sides as you finally decide to climb out of the hot tub. He just watches you, accepting that you will vanish like fog. His head follows your movements and the way the water trickles down your legs. You grab the towel that conflictingly started it all, and don't even bother to cover more than your nether so you can pull away without feeling like his eyes are piercing through your butt — even though they are.
A frustrated sigh slips past Minho's chapped lips. His elbows stretch out over the edge, making himself comfortable once more. The images of the recent sequence repeat in his head and cause him to let out a small chuckle. He ducks his head at the sound, shaking it from side to side in disbelief at what just happened.
His thumb flies to his bottom lip, and he slides it along it as if he can collect your scent from them. He lets his tongue peek between them, and licks to savor every last trace of you. He lifts his head and looks in the direction you left just to whisper to himself.
"You can come back when you know it, though."
COMING SOON FULL FIC DROPPING ON OCTOBER 15TH ! — DON'T FORGET TO TURN ON THE NOTIFICATIONS AND SEND ME YOUR OPINIONS.
#⸻10102022#stray kids#skz smut#lee minho#lee know#lee minho smut#lee know smut#lee minho scenarios#stray kids minho#stray kids lee know#stray kids smut#stray kids scenario s#skz kinktober#stray kids kinktober
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it ain't a chance that I am letting this chance go, so if I may... for kinktober, may I ask for alicent hightower x religious? because the religious guilt is hitting me fully ugh.
thank you and have a lovely day!
Authors Note: I myself am not religious, so I may get certain aspects of it wrong. If I do and I offend you, please send me an ask or dm me directly if you’re not comfortable saying so in the comments.
Am I entirely happy? No. Does this have less smut than I would like for a kinktober post? Yes. But I just hope I do my best as this’ll be my first Alicent fic so I hope I do my little angsty closeted lesbian justice
Warnings: Sex, religious guilt, very closeted alicent, reader is female,
Taglist: @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @sweettastemakerpenguin, @mochi-rose, @blue-serendipity, @omgbrcat
Ever since you were a young girl, you were always taught in what was right and what was wrong. You were taught that a husband is the only thing you should look for in your life, and that as a woman, it was your responsibility to give him his heirs and to carry on his legacy.
Yet you were a mere girl of ten and three when you began to realise what it was that made you so different from the other ladies.
For years, you had never found yourself interested in the typical lady talk. What man looked most handsome or which knight looked the most dashing in their uniform. For years you wondered if there was something was wrong with you.
Then, you arrived at Kingslanding to work as a handmaiden for the princess, and met the eyes of Alicent Hightower.
She was beautiful, and kind, and showed you how to do the things the other women sneered at you for whenever you tried to ask for help. She became your best friend. But in your head, she became so much more than that.
At the age of ten and four, a mere year after you’d been employed as a maid, you’d begun to hear the gossip of the kitchen staff who talked about how one of the ladies who’d recently been married to some unknown lord, would need to fulfil her own pleasure and seek her own desires. The words had confused you when you first heard them, as all you had been taught about the act of pleasure is that only a man typically was able to achieve it.
Though that next day, when all your chores had been completed, the words of the kitchen staff still echoed around in your mind. They could not be shaken no matter how many topics you tried to distract yourself with. So you went to the library and sought out books that could hopefully satisfy your curiosity.
When you left a couple hours later, your face had turned a light shade of pink, and if the head septa could look inside your head at that moment, you knew she’d condemn you to the deepest depth of the seven hells if she could.
That night, you touched yourself and reached self fulfilment for the first time in your life. Only you didn’t reach it with the thought of any of the knights, nor with any lord. Instead, you only reached it thinking of Alicent Hightower.
Many years had passed since that night, and you’d recreated it many a times since then. Though much to your horror and delight, you’d become much closer to Alicent ever since her marriage to the king. The princess had casted her aside soon after the betrothal was announced, and you made sure you were there to help Alicent pick of the pieces of her broken heart.
There were many a nights when she would come to your chambers straight after the king would summon her to his own, and she’d cry in your arms from sadness and exhaustion.
Every time you would hold her and soothe her with whispers of affirmation and kindness, and by the looks of bashfulness she’d send you every time you did it, you could tell she did not hear them often.
It was one of those nights when Alicent had first kissed you. Her tears had already soaked through the thin and cheap fabric of your nightgown, and you distinctly remember using one of your sleeves to wipe at any that had dripped to her chin.
“There there Alicent it’s okay. I will always be there for you, no matter what, through thick and thin, I will always be by your side. I would never leave you.” You had murmured as you placed a stray hair behind her ear.
She looked at you with hooded eyes, and the next thing you knew you were tasting salt on your lips. Your hands had somehow already knew to delicately hold her head, whilst your lips however were much less knowledgable. They moved clumsily without any real rhythm against Alicents own, and when she pulled to look at you, a mix of apologises and prayers spilled from red swollen lips faster than you could comprehend.
“I-I am so sorry my lady! T-the seven deems though who lay with the same sex as sinners!” Alicent exclaims before she runs from the room, leaving you in shock and slight giddiness from how the events have ultimately played out.
It goes like that for months. You would never kiss Alicent, she only kissed you when the emotions were hitting her all at once. Still, even though she’s the one who always initiates it, the act always brings tears to her eyes and solemn prayers on her lips as she’s the first to stop it.
That night, after another summon to the kings chamber, Alicent walked into your own like clockwork. She embraced you with quiet tears in her eyes, as unlike the first times, her mind has finally become numb with how many times she’s been forced to endure it.
Her body has already provided the king with a son and his wife. Yet she knew she must prepare for another, as her father whispered into her hair whilst she held her screaming daughter, there must be a spare.
Your thumb instinctively went to Alicents face to wipe her eyes of tears, and this time, neither of you knew who began to kiss who.
You expected Alicent to draw away after a few minutes, yet she appeared to continue. Her hands stayed locked in a grip on your body and her lips stayed frantic in their search for your taste.
“Let me feel loved…” She murmured against your lips, so silent you barely heard her.
“Whatever you wish for my love…” You murmured back. It was the first time you called her that out loud. Yet she seemed to show no true reaction to your sudden endearment. Or maybe she wished to ignore it…
You gently direct Alicent to lay on the bed, and slowly bring yourself to lay by her thighs. When you pull the length of her dress up and your hands make it halfway up her soft inner thigh, your eyes make frantic movements to her face, yet when you eventually make eye contact, she merely nods her head and makes a small plea for more.
Your fingers explore her body cautiously, and as you pull down her underclothes, a slight gasp escapes from you before you could stop it. The queen of the seven kingdoms is revealed in-front of you, and when your fingers enter her slowly and you hear slight mewls of pleasure from above, your head begins to dizzy with it all.
One hand thrusts your fingers inside of her whilst the other holds down Alicents hips as she lifts them in her pursuit of this unfamiliar pleasure. Though you cannot help yourself in that moment from kissing the inner skin of her soft thighs as a way to let her know you were here for her.
When your head looks back up, you can see that her lips were trapped in the confinements of her teeth, looking as if they were drawing blood with how hard she bit down. Yet still, small noises escaped that made the area between your thighs ache for something more.
Your eyes flicker between the view of your soaking fingers to her eyes that have now shut tightly. Yet when you feel her clench tightly on your fingers as she presumably peaks, your hands retreat from her warmth, and your greeted with wet fingers you can’t find yourself able to stop from sucking on slightly, the slightly sweet yet also slightly tangy taste of her juices spreading on your tongue whilst you hum slightly in delight.
It’s sad that you can’t savour the moment. As one minute there is silence that consumes the two of you, and the next there is only the sound of frantic movements and rustles as Alicent quickly moves to kneel at the edge of the bed, her eyes clenched shut as her hands lock together in a prayer and her lips begin to repeat that all too familiar prayer you’ve heard so many times before.
You can only look to her in defeat, with exhausted tears building in your eyes, as she now looks to the ceiling and prays for forgiveness for her sins.
Yet you never ask her why she deemed your love such a sin, that she felt the need to indulge in it so much. Even if it seemed to be paining her so.
The reason you never ask you lover why she does this to herself, is because you loved her, and your mother always told you to never ever strike an arguement with the person you loved...
#house of the dragon#alicent hightower smut#queen alicent#hotd alicent#alicent hightower x reader#alicent targaryen#lady alicent#alicent hightower#alicent hightower request#young alicent#my works
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Rosy
Jisoo/Reader
neck kisses that turn into love bites
Author's Note: It's been a long while since I've posted and I want to say sorry for going MIA! I've been struggling with what to write and having anxiety when it comes to writing/posting. I'm trying to power through it, but right now updates might be slow, but posting this is a start for me! Enjoy.
"Oh, where are you going out dressed like that?"
"Lunch with the girls. Why? Is it too much?"
Jisoo turns around, a look of panic on her face, but Y/n isn't looking at the expression on her face. She’s looking at her. She looks so gorgeous all dressed up for a lunch and outing with her friends.
"Of course not," she walks toward her, hands reaching out to catch her waist. "It's never too much. You just look so pretty, baby."
The compliment makes her heart race; Y/n’s words always make her melt even if she has heard them over and over again.
"You sure?" She turns around to look at herself in the mirror, but Y/n's hands are still wrapped around her waist. "I feel like it might be too much. I think I should change my lipstick."
"No, don't. Red is my favorite color on you. It's your color."
Jisoo was so caught up in her appearance that she didn't notice how Y/n was looking at her in the mirror. Her grip on Jisoo’s waist is getting tighter and her breath getting heavier against the bare skin of her neck. She was riling herself up just by looking at her and thinking about all the things she could do to her. Red is her color, but she would love to see it smudged across her soft lips and onto her cheeks as she fucks her into the bed. Jisoo didn't fully realize that her girlfriend was having lascivious thoughts about her until she felt Y/n press her lips against her neck.
"Y/n-"
"Shhh. I won't make you late, I promise."
A promise made, but a promise that might not be kept as that single kiss to her flesh turns into one, two, three and eventually teeth grazing her skin. Jisoo inhales sharply as Y/n’s hand rubs circles into her belly while the other one moves lower to rest on her thigh. Yes, she really, really wants to go out with her girls but her girlfriend’s touch is making her weak.
Things get worse when Y/n starts sucking on her neck instead of just kissing her. Jisoo begins to sigh at her soft lips against the most sensitive part of her neck. She's being way more gentle with her than normal since she knows she has somewhere to be in less than an hour. If Y/n had her all to herself, Jisoo’s make-up would've been ruined by now.
"Always so pretty baby," she says in between nips at her skin. Y/n feels Jisoo’s ass press into her pelvis and she knows she wants this just as badly as she does. She has to be quick, but she's going to make her feel so good.
Y/n's hand moves under the flowy skirt of her dress to find itself between her legs. Jisoo parts them without needing to be asked and moans when she feels Y/n’s hand near her heat. She tries to lower herself just a little so she can press her clothed sex against Y/n’s hand but she has her stuck in place. As she begins to suck harder on Jisoo’s skin, threatening to leave a mark behind, she presses into her covered clit.
"Y/n," she moans breathlessly. Jisoo grips the edge of the sink and throws her head back, giving her more room to explore her skin.
She begins to trail kisses up to her jawline, her cheek, and eventually her mouth. Y/n’s hand leaves her belly and she grabs onto her jaw to tilt her face forward so their lips could meet in a passionate kiss. Y/n kisses her hard and almost sloppily. Jisoo is sure that Y/n can feel her heat getting worse as her pussy dampens against the cotton panties she decided to wear today. She waits patiently for Y/n to give her what she wants, her fingers pulling those panties to the side and rubbing her clit in concentrated circles. Of course Y/n wants to do the same thing, but she finds that teasing her is a little more fun. Instead of rubbing her clit, she rubs the apex of Jisoo’s thighs. She begins to tremble just a little bit but enough for Y/n to feel her against her body. Their kiss gets sloppier and sloppier and Jisoo even begins to whine into it. She rakes her fingernails lightly against her thigh which seems to be her breaking point.
"Please...please," Jisoo says between desperate kisses. Y/n tongue slides into her mouth and Jisoo doesn't think she could become anymore turned on than she is.
She's had enough teasing, she thinks to herself, and Y/n finally pulls her panties to the side and begins to play with her bare flesh.
"Is that what you wanted?" Y/n asks in a teasing tone, "you wanted me to just play with this pretty pussy right?"
Jisoo can't speak as Y/n fingers play with her slit. It feels good, but it still isn't exactly what she wants. She stirs her hips hoping that Y/n gets the hint. Y/n does, and she pushes two fingers inside of her. Jisoo lets out a cry of pleasure when her fingers immediately hit her sweet spot. Her girlfriend goes back to sucking on her neck which nearly does jer in. Jisoo can barely stand on her feet and the only thing keeping her up is Y/n holding her. She looks and sounds so pretty it makes Y/n fuck her faster with her fingers. "God you're so fucking sweet," Y/n groans as she feels Jisoo’s warm walls tighten around her fingers. She so badly wants to take her clothes off and just fuck the shit out of her. Every time she inhales, Jisoo’s perfume deeply fills her lungs and makes her delirious.
The thick part of her palm keeps bumping against Jisoo’s clit and it aids in making her cum. She could have somehow broken the marble countertop if she really put her mind to it with how hard she was gripping it. What they were doing was quick and dirty but her orgasm was so strong. Jisoo shuts her eyes tightly, forcing tears out of the corner. Yes, her eyeliner would need to be touched up, and maybe her foundation too, but she didn't give a damn. She only cares about the woman holding her up, the woman who still had her fingers pumping in and out of her until she couldn't take anymore.
"Baby please!" She cries when it becomes too much. They were veering into dangerous territory and if Y/n were to continue she might end up making a mess on the bathroom floor. However, she listens to her begging voice and pulls her fingers out of her.
They're coated with her cum and run down the back of her hand. Y/n didn't hesitate to stick them in her mouth to clean them up, to get a taste of her sweet nectar. She hums as she gets to savor Jisoo’s wetness. It's so nasty that Jisoo has to look away, but the sound of her sucking and her fingers popping out of her mouth fill her ears.
"C'mere," Y/n whispers breathlessly as she grabs her wrist and brings her into her embrace. Jisoo falls easily against her chest, her foundation unfortunately smearing against her white shirt -- she couldn't find a reason to care about it at the moment.
"I know you're friends probably hate me for always making you late," Y/n jokes, "I don't mean to hog you all to myself. I just can't help it."
Jisoo couldn't care about anything else in the world now besides her. Her friends will understand, she's sure of it. She doesn't want to leave the embrace of the love of her life; not many people would be able to argue with that.
#jisoo#jisoo blackpink#jisoo/reader#jisoo smut#blackpink smut#blackpink fanfics#blackpink blurbs#blurb
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Tinderbox (30/12/23)
I did end up waking up super early (on accident) and watching this episode but I decided not to post my review until after it had been on TV. I've really got to start getting into writing my essays now cause I have less than two weeks even with the deadline extension but I can manage to spend 12 straight hours thinking about writing it (rotating Casualty in my microwave brain) and not even realise I've done it until my mum's alarm goes off.
Well, it was an episode, wasn't it? Sometimes Casualty gives us masterpieces of television (cough Switzerland) and sometimes Casualty gives us "what the fuck was that?" (cough Too Much, Too Young - that was a very mixed Saturday) and Tinderbox was, at least for me, pretty much in the middle. I guess I wasn't as invested as I could've been cause there wasn’t much of my faves, I'd probably be more positive if we had more of them.
Pretty busy and all over the place episode but that’s to be expected at the start of a miniseries, I guess.
Stevie my beloved, she was great in this one. Elinor Lawless is very talented!! This has got me looking forward to her own storyline even more.
I know Ryan was unpopular but I loved him as a problematic little bitch character. Shows like this sometimes need a Ryan to cause problems for everyone and he served his purpose. Like, he is terrible but it was amusing to have a terrible member of the predominantly very sweet baby nurse quartet. I’ll miss him, honestly. I don’t imagine he’ll come back since there’s a new new (I still think of the baby nurses as new) nurse joining next week.
I made this last night, he didn’t actually die but I still think it’s funny:
I really liked that final shot of Jodie, Rida and Cam together but, to quote my mum as it happened, “I feel like all three of them have wanted Ryan to get beaten up at least once before”.
I love a good family storyline, especially when the family has multiple members in the main cast cause I think it allows for more development of the relationship (gestures wildly at Jan and Teddy), and Max and Jodie were great today. Loved all their interactions. Especially loved their conversation about Max’s kidney failure and especially “I wouldn’t allow it, even if you wanted to.” “Which I don’t.” “Well at least we agree on one thing” and “I’m sorry I’m not what you expected” (!!!!!!!!!!). I think they’re more similar than either of them realises, and I love that kind of dynamic - in both my ‘main fandoms’ my favourite characters are girls whose relationships with their fathers could be described as “I’m nothing like my dad (I’m just acting exactly like him)”. There’s definitely examples of that in this episode but back in Driving Force I remember a scene where Dylan tells them that neither of them should be treating Max’s mum and they both stand there looking at him with the same expression.
I expected that knowing the Teddy infidelity arc will happen would affect how I watch the show and when Paige and Jodie were treating the same patient I was 👁️👁️ the whole time. Whatever, I’ll get over it (hhhhhhh).
Sah was in this but so barely that the credits didn’t actually include Arin, which is weird to me.
I will say I think Casualty has been on weird pacing recently. I’d blame the miniseries format but it feels like there has been some storylines that are too long-running without saying anything new (FAITH) and other ones that get dropped too quickly without enough time to actually go into the ideas they implied were happening.
I think it was a good start to the new series but I would’ve liked them to cut the Faith stuff and have something actually happening with the paramedics instead.
Yes, I know complaining about Faith is beating a dead horse. However, in continuing to write her and this storyline, the writers have invented a dead horse beating machine to keep beating the dead horse perpetually. It goes on endlessly and has absolutely nothing new to say. And while some storylines have been getting these rushed and incomplete conclusions, Casualty had an opportunity to give the Faith storyline a conclusion with her going to rehab and staying there and then they didn’t. Tired of it. Also, not to be mean to the presumably overwhelmed Holby HR department but why would they ask Faith of Drug Theft Fame to come back??? This is why your hospital is like this, your hiring practices are terrible.
#cas ep: tinderbox#bbc casualty#casualty#shoelace fandom#stevie nash#ryan firth#jodie whyte#max cristie#eh vaguely:#teddy gowan#sah brockner#paige allcott#as always#anti faith cadogan
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