#Continuity Nod (trope)
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Say it with me: Sirius hates Death Eaters, but not Slytherins. Informing the trio that Snape hung out with a gang of Death Eaters was informing the trio that their teacher at one point was totally chill with murdering blood purists and called them friends (you know, totally relevant info with Voldemort on the rise, one person in the trio being the Boy-Who-Lived, a Muggleborn in the group, and the other member being relayed to a family well-known as blood-traitors. It’s rather important for them to know who believes in blood purity and who doesn’t, esp in light of everything occurring in GOF), and explained how he knew them as they were in the same house. And, whether one likes it or not, Slytherin house has the highest number of blood purists that we see, that’s simply canon. We can debate about why this is the case all day long, but the facts remain that Slytherin house has a slew of baby bigots and adult bigots as alumni.
(Also, some people are really weird about insults to the Hogwarts Houses. It is fiction, you will never be in them and while you might have traits of one house, normal people have traits of every house)
ha one of the things i find funniest is when people got mad at j*r for being mean to the slyths as if there’s some overarching moral code that says authors can’t do that lol like,,,,i love those lil fuckers (in all generations, across characterisations and magical alignments) but you HAVE to admit the nature & nurture is sus in that one.
also +1 to everything ur saying about sirius. u know i love ur arguments, anon.
#literary critique can be so funny#i also do not have an iota of continuity within me#bc im so generally picky#and base everything off vibes#so maybe i am the problem#but generally. beyond the valid bigotry critiques. i can’t take a lot of what people say ab the books seriously#bc so much of it is just. ‘why is the book suspending disbelief’ ‘why is the book using literary tropes’ etc etc#anyway that’s irrelevant#point is: sirius is a babe#a hot. extremely intelligent. prepared. powerful. babe#*nods* my most imp contribution of the day#pen’s asks
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Lyman Spong certainly made plenty of callbacks to his time writing and running the programme in ‘Kablooey’:
HieroRelm Corp. from ‘The Fulsome Adult’, the 11th Inspector’s favourite snack (coffee and custard creams), talking to an Associate who’s just died (as in ‘Hell Turned’), and the crusaders from ‘The Space of the Lions’.
#Inspector Spacetime#Kablooey (episode)#Callback (trope)#Callback#Continuity Nod (trope)#Continuity Nod#Lyman Spong (show runner)#made plenty of callbacks#to his time#writing#show runner#HieroRelm#The Fulsome Adult (episode)#11th Inspector#favourite snack#coffee and custard creams#talking to a dead Associate#Hell Turned (episode)#crusaders#The Space of the Lions (episode)#11th Inspector era#9th Inspector era
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misunderstood hero with a heart of gold - mv1
summary: max verstappen has never been one to read books, but everything changes when he comes across a pretty booktuber who describes him better than anyone else did before
word count: 8.2k + social media posts
folkie radio: another one of my babies finally sees the light of day 🥹 this fic is really special and i was lowkey gatekeeping it but i feel ready to share it, plss take care of it <3 i hope you like it
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
Max Verstappen was bored.
It was late and he was alone in his hotel room. He had a race the following day and he knew better than staying up late. His team was already on his ass for sim racing at ungodly hours of the night when he had a race, but nevertheless, he was bored and not sleepy yet.
He scrolled through his phone, not really paying attention to what popped up on his Instagram feed, Tiktok for you page or Twitter timeline.
After a few minutes, his finger landed on the YouTube app, one that he barely used if he was completely honest, but for some reason he never deleted it.
A bunch of videos showed up on his main page, most of them about F1, gaming, fitness or cats. He scrolled through the thumbnails absentmindedly until one title caught his eye: "Formula 1 Drivers as Romance Book Character Tropes."
Max had no idea how that video ended up in his suggestions page. He wasn't much of a reader—he had only read two books in his entire life, for crying out loud— but curiosity got the better of him. He clicked on the video.
The screen shifted to a bright and lively setup, where a young woman with vibrant energy and a contagious smile greeted her viewers. "Hey everyone! Welcome back to my channel. Today, we have a fun video where I'll be pairing Formula 1 drivers with romance book tropes!"
Max found himself smiling for some reason, he thought she was really engaging and funny — and really pretty—. He leaned back against his pillows, more intrigued by the second.
"As some of you might already know, books are not my only passion, I'm also a huge Formula 1 fan since I was a little kid thanks to my dad, so I thought it would be fun to do a little crossover of my two obsessions."
Max grinned again, finding himself oddly invested in this unexpected combination of romance literature and Formula 1. Or maybe just mesmerized by the pretty girl who was talking on his screen.
"Let's begin with Mercedes," she said, clapping her hands together, "Lewis Hamilton is definitely our 'Charming Prince Charming.' He's got the looks, the talent, and that air of royalty about him."
Max chuckled, thinking it was a fitting description for his rival.
"Now for George Russell," she continued, "I'm going with 'The Boy Next Door Who Grew Up Hot.' I mean, have you seen his glow-up?"
Max chuckled again, nodding in agreement. George had indeed transformed quite a bit since his Williams days.
"Moving on to Ferrari," she continued enthusiastically. Max wondered if that was her favorite team on the grid, "Charles Leclerc is our classic 'Childhood Best Friend You've Always Had a Crush On.' He's got that sweet, familiar charm, but with a spark that makes your heart race every time you see him."
Max raised an eyebrow, surprised by the change in description. He had to admit, it fit Charles quite well.
"And for Carlos Sainz," she paused dramatically, "he's either our 'Older Brother's Best Friend' or the 'Bad Guy Who's Mean to Everyone but His Sweetheart', just think about it, he's got that rugged exterior, but you just know he's a total sweetheart deep down."
Max laughed, realizing she had Carlos pegged perfectly. He watched with growing interest as she continued.
"Now, let's talk about McLaren," she said with a sparkle in her eye. "Lando Norris is our 'Adorkable Comedian Who Steals Your Heart.' He's funny, relatable, and has a way of making you fall for him before you even realize it," Max grinned at the description of his good friend, "And Oscar Piastri... he's 'The Shy Genius.' Quiet, reserved, but incredibly talented and intelligent. He might not be the loudest in the room, but he's someone you'd definitely want on your side."
Max nodded in agreement, thinking of how Oscar had impressed everyone since joining McLaren. She continued pairing each driver with a character trope, she described Daniel as the "Life of the Party with a Sensitive Soul," highlighting his infectious energy and hidden depths. Pierre was dubbed the "Resilient Underdog," emphasizing his ability to bounce back from setbacks. Yuki was described as the "Fiery Spitfire with a Soft Center" and Logan was labeled the "Rookie with Untapped Potential," suggesting a character arc of growth and discovery.
With each driver's description, Max's anticipation grew. He found himself eagerly awaiting his own characterization, both curious and slightly apprehensive about how the pretty girl with an obsession with books and Formula 1 would describe him.
When she finally got to Red Bull, he sat up a little straighter, his interest piqued.
"Now for Sergio Perez," she said, "he's our 'Loyal Wingman Who Deserves His Own Happy Ending.' Always there to support, but with a story of his own waiting to be told."
Max nodded, thinking it was a pretty accurate description of his teammate.
"And finally, saved the best for last," she said, her eyes twinkling, "we have Max Verstappen."
Max held his breath, oddly nervous about how this stranger would categorize him.
"Max is our 'Misunderstood Hero with a Heart of Gold,'" she said with a warm smile. "Often perceived as cold or distant, but actually deeply caring and protective of those close to him. He's the type who shows his love through actions rather than words."
Max felt his cheeks warm significantly. This description caught him completely off guard. It wasn't the usual 'aggressive driver' or 'arrogant champion' narrative he was used to hearing. Instead, it felt... true. Uncomfortably true. He wasn't sure how to feel about being seen so accurately by a stranger.
As the video ended after she said her goodbyes, Max found himself staring at his phone screen, replaying her words in his mind, his thumb hovering over the comment section. He had never left a comment on a YouTube video before, but something about this one compelled him to break that habit.
After a moment's hesitation, he tapped the comment box and began typing, Once he was done, he paused, reading over his words. It felt strange, almost vulnerable, to acknowledge her characterization of him. But there was also something liberating about it. He added a thumbs-up emoji at the end and hit 'Post' before he could second-guess himself.
As Max set his phone down and settled into bed, a small smile played on his lips. He had a important race the following day, but all he wanted to think and dream about was the pretty stranger who had somehow seen through his carefully crafted public persona.
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liked by username1, username2 and 10,725 others
f1gossip “I went to bed early last night. Just listened to the team’s orders, you know?”
Max Verstappen for media day today, however he left a comment on a YouTube video around 2:46 am 😭
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username1 HES SOOOOO
username2 the fact that he left a comment on a BOOKTUBER’S channel MAX VERSTAPPEN YOU DONT EVEN READ BOOKS 😭
username3 he looks so pretty tho
username4 MAX WE ALL SAW YOU
username5 max was actually checking which romance trope is him according to booktubers
username6 HES SO RANDOM
username7 max’s search history: lestappen as fictional couples
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ynreadsbooks in honor of max verstappen x3 world champion commenting on my latest video (which is insane to say out loud wtf) should i do another f1 themed video?? any suggestions?
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username1 YES QUEEN
username2 that max comment was so random but so real
username3 max verstappen, the man who has read two books in 27 years watching booktubers was not on my bingo card
username4 @/maxverstappen1 you favorite youtuber will do another video about you
username5 BOOKS WITH RACING THEMES
username6 books inspired by f1 circuits would be fun
username7 @/maxverstappen drop a suggestion
maxverstappen1 started following ynreadsbooks
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f1gossip Max Verstappen was seen outside of a bookshop in Monaco today !
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username1 BABYYYY
username2 max ??? bookshop ????
username3 WHAT SHIFTED
username4 he thought it was jimmyz
username5 HEELPP what is he doing there
username6 hello i work there. he arrived with a list of books in hand that he wanted, he bought around 15 action and fantasy books
↳ username1 FOR REAL???
↳ username2 max said book girl summer
↳ username3 this is so random
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If someone had told Max that this year he would spend his summer break reading, he would've laughed at their faces. Yet here he was, lounging by the pool in his Monaco house, a book in his hands and a smile on his face.
As he turned the page of "The Martian," the latest sci-fi recommendation from YN, Max couldn't help but reflect on how different this summer break was.
Usually, his days off were filled with lavish yacht parties, exclusive clubs, or intense training sessions and hours of sim racing to stay sharp for the second half of the season. But now, he found himself eagerly devouring books and spending hours chatting with YN about plots, characters, and everything in between.
As the weeks passed, Max found himself growing increasingly close to YN, despite never having met her in person. Their text conversations flowed effortlessly, ranging from in-depth discussions about the books they were reading to playful banter about racing and life in general.
Max was surprised by how much he enjoyed her company, even in this digital form. Her wit, intelligence, and genuine interest in his thoughts beyond his racing persona were refreshing. He found himself sharing things he rarely discussed with others, and looking forward to her messages became a highlight of his day.
He also thought she was absolutely gorgeous.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed with a new message from her.
Max chuckled, about to reply when he heard the doorbell. He remembered Lando and Daniel were coming over for dinner. As he got up to let them in, he quickly typed a response, telling her that he would talk to her later.
"Well, well, well," Daniel's voice boomed as Max opened the door. "If it isn't the newly minted bookworm of Formula 1!"
Lando peered around Daniel's shoulder, "I half expected to find you wearing glasses and a sweater vest, mate."
"Very funny, guys. Come in," Max rolled his eyes as he stepped away from the door.
Ever since his friends noticed his brand new habit, they took it upon themselves to tease him whenever they could. As they made their way to the backyard, Daniel spotted the book on the lounger.
"The Martian?" he read, picking it up. "Isn't this a bit advanced for your reading level, Maxy?"
"Ha ha," Max deadpanned, snatching the book back. "It's actually really good. It's about this astronaut who gets stranded on Mars and has to use science and engineering to survive-"
"Whoa, whoa," Lando interrupted, holding up his hands. "Who are you and what have you done with Max Verstappen?"
Daniel draped an arm around Max's shoulders. "I think our boy here is trying to impress a certain bookish YouTuber. What was her name again? YN?"
Max felt his cheeks warm. "It's not like that. We just... talk about books and stuff."
"And stuff," Daniel repeated, wiggling his eyebrows. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"
Max rolled his eyes, trying to brush off their teasing. "Seriously, it's not like that. We just have a lot in common."
Daniel and Lando exchanged knowing glances before bursting into laughter.
"Sure, mate," Daniel said, patting Max on the back. "Whatever you say."
They settled by the pool, beers in hand, and started chatting about the upcoming races and their plans for the rest of the summer. Despite the playful ribbing, Max found himself genuinely enjoying their company. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed his friends.
As the evening wore on, the conversation eventually circled back to Max's books and his little friend on his phone.
"So, Max," Lando started, a mischievous glint in his eye, "have you color-coded your bookshelf yet? Or are you more of a chronological order kind of guy?"
"Nah, mate. I bet he organizes them by how many times YN has mentioned them," Daniel chimed in, "Top shelf is probably her favorites, right Maxy?"
Max felt his cheeks flush, but he couldn't help grinning. "You two are impossible."
"When are you finally going to meet her in person anyway?" Lando said, sipping from his beer.
Max shrugged nonchalantly, trying to hide the slight flutter in his chest. "I don't know. That's not something I've really thought about,"
He lied. In truth, the thought of meeting YN had crossed his mind countless times. The idea of finally seeing the girl who had captivated him with her intelligence, humor, and beauty made his heart race. He'd catch himself daydreaming about her smile, wondering if it was as warm and infectious in person as it seemed in her videos. But he wasn't ready to admit that to his friends just yet.
Lando and Daniel exchanged a look, clearly not buying Max's nonchalant act.
"Oh come on," Lando scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "You expect us to believe that? You've been glued to your phone for weeks, mate."
"I bet he's already planned their first date," Daniel leaned in, "What'll it be, Max? A romantic book reading by candlelight? Or maybe a visit to the library?"
Max felt his cheeks heating up again. "It's not like that, guys. We're just friends."
"Friends who talk every day and have you blushing like a schoolgirl," Lando teased, nudging Max with his elbow.
"I do not blush like a schoolgirl," Max protested, knowing full well that his face was probably bright red by now.
"Sure, sure," Daniel said with a wink. "Just friends. So, have you at least thought about inviting her to a race? You know, show her what you do when you're not reading about Mars?"
"Why would I invite her to a race, that would be weird," Max protested again, "And she already knows what I do, she's a fan of the sport."
"Man, you're so stubborn sometimes," Lando rolled his eyes at him, "If you like this girl, why don't you invite her to a race? It could be a great way to finally meet in person."
"And who said that I liked her," once again, Max's defensive self came through.
Daniel and Lando shared an exasperated look before turning back to Max.
"Come on, mate," Daniel said, his tone gentler now. "It's pretty obvious. We've never seen you this invested in someone before. Not to mention, you're reading books voluntarily for the first time since... well, ever."
"It's written all over your face," Lando said, shaking his head. "You like her, and there's no shame in that. You light up every time your phone buzzes. It's kind of adorable, actually."
Max sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew his friends were right, but admitting it out loud felt like a big step. "Okay, fine. Maybe I do like her. But it's complicated, you know? We've never even met in person."
"That's exactly why you should invite her to a race," Lando insisted. "It's the perfect opportunity. She gets to see you in your element, and you get to finally meet face-to-face."
"Plus," Daniel added with a mischievous grin, "if things go well, you can always show her your trophy collection. I hear that's a great way to impress the ladies."
Max couldn't help but laugh at that. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"
"Maybe," Daniel shrugged, "but I'm also right. What have you got to lose?"
Max pondered this for a moment. The idea of meeting YN in person both thrilled and terrified him. What if they didn't click in real life the way they did over text? But then again, what if they did?
"I'll think about it," Max finally conceded.
Lando and Daniel exchanged triumphant grins.
"That's our boy," Lando said, patting his back.
After a few more beers and food, Lando and Daniel left.
As the night deepened, Max found himself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The conversation with Lando and Daniel kept replaying in his mind. His phone sat on the nightstand, silent but somehow still demanding his attention.
Max's thoughts raced. Should he text YN? Invite her to Zandvoort? The idea made his heart beat faster. He imagined seeing her in person for the first time, wondering if her smile would be as pretty as it was in her videos. But doubt crept in too. What if things were awkward? What if the chemistry they had online didn't translate to real life?
He rolled onto his side, eyeing his phone. The urge to reach out to her was strong, as it always was. Max realized that Lando and Daniel were right - he did like her. A lot. The thought of meeting her filled him with equal parts excitement and nervousness.
Taking a deep breath, Max grabbed his phone. Before he could overthink it, he started typing.
Hey YN, hope I'm not messaging too late. I was wondering if you'd like to come to the Dutch GP at Zandvoort? It's the first race after the summer break, and my home race. Thought it might be fun if you could make it.
He hit send before he could second-guess himself. The wait for her response felt eternal. When his phone finally buzzed, Max's heart leapt.
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liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 286,375 others
ynreadsbooks this week’s video will be delayed for some ~personal reasons ☺️
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username1 GIRL
username2 ARE YOU GOING WHERE I THINK YOU’RE GOING
username3 f1 x books this is literally me
username4 hot girls support max verstappen
username5 ahh if she’s going to the gp i’ll be so happy bc she’s a huge fan
username6 the way roles reversed and now max is his fan 😭
redbullracing We can’t wait 💙
↳ username1 REDBULL???
↳ username2 AHHH THEY PROBABLY INVITED HER
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As Max headed to Zandvoort Circuit for the Dutch Grand Prix, he felt the familiar weight of expectations settling on his shoulders.
The second half of the season loomed ahead, and the pressure to maintain his championship lead was on. He knew the team was counting on him to deliver strong results, especially at his home race where the orange-clad fans would be out in full force.
But amidst the pressure and responsibility, there was another emotion bubbling up inside him - a giddy excitement that he couldn't quite contain.
The thought of finally meeting YN in person after months of texts, calls, and shared book recommendations made his heart race in a way that had nothing to do with driving at a car at a very fast speed.
As he drove to the track, Max found himself smiling at random moments, his mind drifting to imagine what it would be like to see her smile in person, to hear her laugh without the filter of a phone call.
Max realized that for the first time in a long while, he was looking forward to a race weekend for reasons that extended beyond the track.
Unfortunately, his busy schedule kept them from meeting right away. Media commitments, team briefings, and practice sessions consumed his time, leaving him feeling frustrated and guilty for not being able to see her sooner. He sent her a quick message apologizing for the delay, promising they'd meet after qualifying.
As he made his way to the garage, a familiar voice called out behind him.
"Oi, Max! Ready for the big day?"
Max turned to see Daniel jogging up to him, his trademark grin in place.
"Yeah, should be a good quali," Max replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't talking about qualifying, mate. Your special guest arrives today, right?"
Max felt his cheeks warm. "How did you even remember that?"
"Please," Daniel scoffed. "It's all you've been talking about for weeks. So, have you met her yet?"
"No, my schedule's been packed. We're supposed to meet after quali."
"Ah, saving the best for last, eh?" Daniel's grin widened, "Smart move. Nothing like the adrenaline of a good qualifying session to make a great first impression."
"Or to completely mess it up," Max muttered.
"Hey, none of that," Daniel clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine. Just be yourself. She already likes you for who you are, remember?"
Max nodded, feeling a bit reassured. "Thanks, Dan."
With a deep breath, Max headed into the garage, Daniel's words echoing in his mind.
Qualifying went smoothly, with Max securing a front row start to the delight of the Dutch fans. The cheers of the home crowd were deafening as he climbed out of the car, but his mind was elsewhere.
After the post-qualifying interviews, Max sent YN a quick text letting her know that he was free now and she let him know that she was around the hospitality area.
As he walked towards there, Max spotted YN standing near one of the motorhomes, looking around with wide eyes. She hadn't seen him yet, and for a moment, Max just watched her, taking in the sight of the girl who had been on his mind for months now.
She was even more gorgeous in person than he had imagined.
Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she took in the bustling paddock around her. The way the sunlight caught her hair, the gentle curve of her smile as she observed everything with wonder - it all took Max's breath away.
He noticed little details he couldn't have seen through a screen: the way her eyes sparkled, the subtle freckles across her nose, the graceful way she moved as she looked around.
Taking a deep breath, Max walked over, his heart pounding. "YN?"
She turned, her face lighting up with a radiant smile that made Max's breath catch. "Max! Finally!"
They moved toward each other, and without hesitation, Max pulled her into a hug. The embrace felt natural, as if they'd done this a hundred times before. He was aware of how perfectly she fit in his arms, the subtle scent of her perfume, and the warmth of her body against his.
"It's so good to finally meet you," he murmured into her hair. "I'm so sorry it took so long, this weekend's been crazy."
She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with understanding in her eyes. "It's okay, Max. That qualifying was amazing! I've never experienced anything like it."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it. Come on, let me show you around."
He took her hand and he was struck by how natural it felt. Her fingers intertwined with his perfectly, and a warm sensation spread from their joined hands throughout his body.
They strolled through the paddock, Max pointing out the various team motorhomes, the garages, and the media center. YN was all wide-eyed fascination, asking questions and soaking in every detail. As they walked, Max found himself relaxing more and more, his previous nerves about their chemistry being gone fading away.
As they rounded a corner, they nearly bumped into Lando Norris. Who couldn't help but smirk at the sight of their hands intertwined.
"You guys met already!" he cheerfully said, "You must be YN."
Her cheeks flushed, clearly surprised that Max had mentioned her to his friends. Max felt a warmth spread through his chest at her reaction.
"Yeah, this is YN," Max said, unable to keep the smile off his face, "Meet Lando, the perpetual pain in my ass."
"Nice to finally meet the girl who's got Max reading," YN laughed, and Lando extended his hand, "Quite the accomplishment."
"Nice to meet you too, Lando," YN said, shaking his hand. "I've enjoyed watching you race, I'm a big fan. Congrats on the pole position."
"Cheers," Lando replied, then turned to Max with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, has he bored you with car talk yet, or has he actually remembered how to discuss books?"
Max rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Shouldn't you be preparing for tomorrow, Lando?"
"Alright, alright, I can take a hint," Lando chuckled. "Enjoy your tour, lovebirds!"
As Lando walked away, Max felt a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. He glanced at YN, relieved to see her smiling.
"Sorry about him," Max said, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Lando has a way of making everything awkward."
YN laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. "It's fine. He seems like fun."
They continued their walk, finally making their way to the rooftop terrace of the Red Bull hospitality area. The view was stunning, offering a panoramic look at the circuit and the sea of orange-clad fans below.
"This is incredible," YN said, leaning against the railing and taking it all in. "Thank you for showing me around, Max."
"Of course," Max said, standing beside her. "I'm really glad you could come."
They stood there for a moment, enjoying the view and each other's company. Max felt a sense of contentment wash over him, the stress of the weekend melting away in her presence.
"Max," YN said softly, turning to face him. "I know this weekend is important for you, and I don't want to be a distraction. But I'm really happy to be here and to finally meet you."
"You're not a distraction," Max replied, reaching out to take her hand again. "You're the best part of this weekend, honestly."
They shared a smile, Max was well aware of the butterflies that fluttered on his stomach and the high school girl blush his friends teased him about, but he didn't care. He felt happy with the pretty girl who had been his source of comfort for months, finally face to face.
"You know," YN said softly, "when I made that video calling you a misunderstood hero with a heart of gold, I never imagined I'd get to see it firsthand. But being here, seeing how you are with your team, with the fans… I was right about you, Max Verstappen."
Max felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words. He had always been guarded about his public image, but hearing her perspective meant more than he could ever imagine.
"I'm glad you think so," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "You know, that video... it changed things for me. Not just because it led to us talking, but because it made me reflect on a lot of things."
"Who would've thought," YN said with a smile, "When I recorded that video, I never thought you would ever see it, let alone have an impact on you and let alone lead us to talking and me being here."
"Everything happens for a reason, right?"
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liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 301,257 others
ynreadsbooks best experience ever. thank you, thank you, THANK YOU 🥺💙
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username1 OMFGGGG
username2 no one deserved this more than her for real
username3 SHE MET MAX TOO?? DESERVED
redbullracing Come back soon! 😉
username4 red bull finally inviting people who actually love the sport
username5 GIRL WE NEED A VLOGGGG
username6 omg how did this happen spiiiill
↳ ynreadsbooks let's say i got invited by the world champion
↳ username1 WTF
↳ username2 so MAX invited her not redbull help he really did become a fan after that video
danielricciardo Hope to see you around soon, love ! 👀
↳ username3 how do i sign up for this
username7 THAT PIC OF MAX IS SO BOYFRIEND CODED
maxversteppen1 Thank you so much for coming and making this day special ☺️
↳ username1 OMG MAX
↳ username2 i'd be screaming if i was her
liked by charles_leclerc, ynreadsbooks and 1,028,479 others
maxverstappen1 Enjoyed every moment in Zandvoort with this amazing atmosphere and the best company 🧡
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username1 KIIING
username2 how can a man be so babygirl
username3 all smiles even tho he finished p2
danielricciardo 🦁🦁
landonorris Simply lovely
↳ username1 menace
username4 bro who got you smiling like that
ynreadsbooks ❤️
↳ username2 biggest max girlie
↳ username3 WE NEED THAT VLOG
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When it came time for YN to leave the Netherlands, Max insisted on driving her to the airport himself. The car ride was filled with comfortable silence and soft conversation, both of them trying to stretch out their remaining time together.
Despite their short time together, Max found himself completely smitten, captivated by YN's intelligence, humor, and the way her eyes lit up when she talked about books or reacted to the thrill of the race.
He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was head over heels for her.
As they stood in the departure terminal, Max felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her. He hesitated, his heart racing, but ultimately settled for a long, warm hug, breathing in her scent and committing it to memory. As he watched her walk through security, he already found himself missing her presence.
Now, a week later, Max was in Monza for the Italian Grand Prix. The day had been busy with media commitments and team meetings. Finally back in the quiet of his motorhome, Max flopped onto the couch, feeling drained but content. Without thinking, he reached for his phone and hit the FaceTime button next to YN's name.
Her smiling face appeared on the screen, and Max felt an immediate surge of warmth.
"Hey, you," she said, her voice soft and welcoming even through the phone's speakers.
"Hey," Max replied, unable to keep the grin off his face. "How's your day been?"
"Oh, you know, the usual. Editing videos, reading, missing the excitement of the paddock," YN teased. "How about you? Surviving the media circus?"
"Barely," Max groaned dramatically, "I swear, if I have to answer one more question about RedBull and their big mess, I might go mad."
YN laughed, the sound making Max's heart skip a beat. "Poor Max. Whatever shall we do to take your mind off your beloved team?"
"Well," Max said, shifting to get more comfortable, "I've been reading that new sci-fi book you recommended. 'The Martian-like Odyssey to Titan,' or whatever it's called."
"'Project Hail Mary,'" she corrected, "And? What do you think so far?"
"It's incredible!" Max's eyes lit up, "I mean, the science is fascinating, and the way the main character problem-solves is just... I don't know, it reminds me a bit of what we do in racing, you know? Constantly adapting, finding solutions on the fly."
"That's exactly why I thought you'd like it! The way Andy Weir writes about scientific problem-solving is so engaging."
They dove into an animated discussion about the book, Max marveling at how easily conversation flowed between them, how YN's passion for books was infectious. As they talked, a thought that had been brewing in Max's mind for days suddenly surfaced.
"YN," Max said, his voice softer than before. "There's actually something I've been wanting to ask you."
"Oh? What is it, Max?" she tilted her head, curiosity evident in her expression.
Max took a deep breath, suddenly feeling like he was about to qualify for a crucial race. "Well, I was wondering... have you ever been to Monaco?"
"No, actually, I haven't," YN's eyebrows raised in surprise, "It's always been on my travel wish list, though. Why do you ask?"
Max felt his heart rate pick up. He'd rehearsed this moment in his head countless times over the past few days, but now that it was here, he found himself fumbling for words.
"Well, you see, I have a two-week break coming up before the Baku GP, and I was thinking... maybe... if you're free, of course, and if you'd like to... you could come visit me in Monaco?"
The words tumbled out faster than he intended, and Max felt a blush creeping up his neck. He watched YN's face carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. His mind raced with possibilities - what if she said no? What if this was too forward?
YN's eyes widened, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. "Oh, Max, that's... wow. That's really sweet of you to offer."
Max, sensing a hint of hesitation, quickly added, "You could stay at my place. I have plenty of room, and it would be great to have you around. Plus I have two adorable cats that I'm sure you'd love."
YN's expression softened, a mix of excitement and uncertainty in her eyes. "That sounds amazing, Max. But… are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose on your personal space or your time off."
Truth was, Max wanted to spent every free moment he had with her, but he wasn't sure how to let her know without sounding too forward or like a creep, so he just pressed on.
"You wouldn't be imposing at all, I promise. I really want us to spend more time together, away from the craziness of the race weekends. And I'd love to show you around Monaco."
He watched as YN bit her lip, considering his offer. The silence stretched for a moment, and Max found himself holding his breath.
"If you're not comfortable staying at my place," he added quickly, "I could book you a hotel room, or there are some great Airbnbs with amazing views of the harbor. Whatever makes you feel most at ease. I just… I really want to see you again."
As he spoke, Max realized just how true his words were. The thought of having YN in his space, sharing meals, exploring the city together - it filled him with a warmth he couldn't quite describe. It was more than just attraction; there was a comfort in her presence that he craved.
YN smiled, a warm look in her eyes. "You really mean that, don't you?"
"I do. Look, I know it might seem like a big ask, but I just... I can't stop thinking about how much fun we have together. And Monaco is beautiful this time of year. We could go for drives along the coast, have dinner at some amazing restaurants, or just relax by the pool if you prefer. No pressure, just... us. And well, the cats."
Max held his breath, waiting for her response. The thought of having YN in Monaco, of being able to spend uninterrupted time with her away from the pressures of the race weekend, made his heart soar. He imagined showing her his favorite spots in the city, maybe taking her out on his boat, or just lounging by the pool and talking for hours.
"Alright, Verstappen, you've convinced me. But I have one condition."
"Name it." Max grinned, relief and excitement washing over him.
"If I'm staying at your place, you have to let me cook my infamous waffles for breakfast. They're a secret family recipe, and I guarantee they'll be the best you've ever tasted."
"Deal," Max's smile widened, a burst of joy exploding in his chest. "But I warn you, I take my waffles very seriously. They better live up to the hype."
"Oh, they will. And I can't wait to meet the cats."
As they continued to chat and make plans for YN's visit, Max felt a warmth spreading through his chest. The prospect of having YN in his home, of waking up and knowing she was just in the next room, of being able to spend lazy mornings together over homemade waffles - it all seemed almost too good to be true.
He found himself imagining what it would be like to have her there. Would she curl up on his couch with a book? Would they watch the sunset from his terrace? Would he finally get the courage to kiss her?
The thought made his heart race. He remembered the moment at the airport when he had wanted so badly to kiss her goodbye. This time, he promised himself, he wouldn't let the opportunity pass by.
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The day of YN's arrival in Monaco had finally come, and Max felt like a giddy teenager preparing for his first date.
In the days leading up to YN's visit, Max had found himself unusually preoccupied with preparations. He wanted everything to be perfect for YN's stay. He'd bought new sheets for the guest bedroom, making sure they were the softest he could find. He'd stocked the fridge with an array of foods, unsure of her preferences but making sure to have options. He'd even gone so far as to buy a small collection of books he thought she might enjoy, arranging them carefully on the nightstand in her room.
The morning of her arrival, Max woke up early, his stomach a knot of excitement and nerves. He double-checked everything one last time - fresh towels in the bathroom, extra toiletries in case she forgot anything, a vase of fresh flowers on the kitchen counter to brighten up the space. He felt almost silly with how much effort he was putting in, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted everything to be perfect for the girl he was smitten with.
As the time to leave for the airport approached, Max found himself pacing, checking his watch every few minutes. He'd planned the route to the airport meticulously, factoring in potential traffic to make sure he'd be there in plenty of time. Just as he was about to grab his keys and head out, the doorbell rang.
Confused, Max paused. He wasn't expecting anyone - he'd made sure to clear his schedule completely for YN's visit. Frowning slightly, he opened the door to find Lando standing there, a wide grin on his face.
"Lando? What are you doing here?" Max asked, glancing at his watch.
"What, can't a mate drop by for a visit?" Lando replied, trying to peer past Max into the apartment. "Thought we could hang out, maybe play some FIFA."
Max shifted awkwardly, blocking the doorway. "Lando, mate, I'm actually just about to head out. I can't hang out right now."
"Oh, come on," Lando's grin faltered slightly, "Just for a bit? We haven't had a proper catch-up in ages."
"I'm sorry, I really can't," Max insisted, glancing at his watch nervously. "I have to pick up a friend from the airport."
Lando's eyes narrowed suspiciously, a mischievous glint appearing. "A friend, huh? Is it that your book dream girl? You're flying her out over here?"
Max felt his face heat up, a blush creeping up his neck. He tried to deny it, but his reaction gave him away.
"It is! Oh man, this is brilliant," Lando's eyes widened in delight, "Max Verstappen, blushing like a schoolboy over a girl."
"Shut up," Max grumbled, but there was no real annoyance in his voice. He couldn't help but smile.
"So, YN is finally gracing Monaco with her presence," Lando teased. "No wonder you've been so distracted lately. When do I get to hang out with her?"
"You don't," Max rolled his eyes, "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go."
"Alright, alright," Lando stepped aside, still grinning. "But I want details later, yeah? And tell YN I said hi."
Max waved him off, hurrying to his car. Despite Lando's teasing, he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. The excitement was bubbling up inside him again as he drove to the airport.
As he parked and made his way to the arrivals area, Max felt his nerves almost making him want to throw up. He found himself fidgeting, alternating between pacing and sitting, his eyes glued to the arrivals board.
Finally, he saw that YN's flight had landed. His heart rate picked up as he watched the doors, scanning the crowd for her familiar face. And then, suddenly, there she was.
YN emerged from the arrivals gate, looking a bit tired from the journey but still radiant. Her eyes scanned the crowd, and when they landed on Max, her face lit up with a brilliant smile.
Max felt his breath catch in his throat. He raised his hand in a small wave, a grin spreading across his face as he walked towards her.
"Hey, Max," she said as she reached him, her voice warm and slightly breathless.
"Hey," he replied, suddenly feeling shy. "How was your flight?"
Without thinking, he pulled her into a hug. As he wrapped his arms around her, breathing in the scent of her hair, he felt a sense of rightness wash over him. It was as if all the pieces were falling into place.
"It was good, just long," she hugged him back tightly. "I'm so glad to be here though."
As they pulled apart, Max found himself reluctant to let go completely. He kept one hand on her back as he reached for her suitcase with the other. "Here, let me get that for you."
"Always the gentleman," YN teased, but her smile was soft and appreciative.
As they walked towards the exit, Max found himself stealing glances at her, still hardly believing she was really here. "So, um, I thought we could grab some lunch if you're hungry? Or if you're tired, we can head straight to my place so you can rest."
YN considered for a moment. "Lunch sounds great, actually. I'm starving, and I'm too excited to sleep just yet. I want to see Monaco."
Max chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at her enthusiasm. "Lunch it is then. I know just the place – it has a great view of the harbor."
As they made their way to Max's car, chatting easily about YN's flight and Max's plans for her visit, Max felt a sense of contentment he hadn't experienced in a long time. The nervousness from earlier had melted away, replaced by pure happiness.
Loading YN's suitcase into the trunk, Max caught her eye and smiled. "I'm really glad you're here, YN."
She returned his smile, her eyes sparkling. "Me too, Max. Me too."
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ynreadsbooks roomates for the week 🥺
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username1 AWEEE
username2 those are cute kittens
username3 those look like max verstappen's cats
username4 JIMMY AND SASSY VERSTAPPEN??
↳ username1 how CRAZY would it be
danielricciardo Don't hesitate to shout if he's much trouble
↳ username2 HOLD ON??
↳ ynreadsbooks he's just fine don't worry 😅
↳ username3 IS SHE REALLY WITH MAX??
↳ maxverstappen1 I'm not trouble...
↳ username1 OMFGGG
↳ username4 THIS PLOT TWIST
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Three days had passed since YN's arrival in Monaco, and Max couldn't remember a time when he'd been happier.
True to her word, YN had cooked her infamous waffles for breakfast on the second morning of her stay. As Max had taken his first bite, his eyes had widened in surprise and delight. The waffles were light and crispy on the outside, yet fluffy on the inside, with a perfect balance of sweetness and a hint of vanilla. He'd declared them the best he'd ever tasted, earning a proud smile from her.
The days that followed had been filled with laughter, conversation, and exploration. They'd spent hours by Max's pool, talking about everything and nothing. YN would often bring a book, reading aloud passages that she found particularly interesting or amusing, while Max listened, content to hear her voice and watch the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about something she loved.
They'd explored Monaco together, with Max showing YN his favorite spots and discovering new ones together. He'd taken her to the Monte Carlo Casino, where they'd marveled at the architecture and people-watched. They'd strolled through the streets of Monaco-Ville, the old town, where YN had been enchanted by the colorful buildings. They'd even spent an afternoon at the Oceanographic Museum, where YN's enthusiasm for learning had been infectious, and Max had found himself just as excited as she was about the marine life exhibits.
Throughout it all, Max felt himself falling deeper for her. It wasn't just her beauty or her intelligence that captivated him, but the way she saw the world. Her curiosity, her kindness, her ability to find joy in the smallest things - it all made Max see his surroundings through new eyes. He found himself noticing details he'd never paid attention to before, appreciating moments he might have otherwise overlooked.
What struck Max most was how easy and right it all felt. There was no pressure, no awkwardness. Being with YN was as natural as breathing. They could talk for hours without running out of things to say, but they were also comfortable in silence, simply enjoying each other's presence.
As they returned from another long day of exploring the city, both Max and YN retreated to their respective rooms to change into more comfortable clothing. Max opted for a soft t-shirt and sweatpants, relishing the feeling of being relaxed and at ease in his own home.
When he emerged from his room, he found YN already settled on his couch, her legs tucked under her, a book in her hands and one of his cats curling beside her. She was wearing one the t-shirt she picked the night she arrived when she realized she forgot to pack pajamas. It was too big for her frame but Max felt like melting knowing she was wearing his shirt.
The sight made Max's heart skip a beat. There was something so intimate and domestic about the scene - YN looking completely at home in his space, in his clothes, absorbed in a book as if she'd always been there.
Max couldn't help but smile, a warmth spreading through his chest. He found himself wanting this view in his life every day - coming home to find YN there, comfortable and content. The thought both thrilled and terrified him. He'd never felt this way about anyone before, never wanted to intertwine his life so completely with another person's.
YN looked up from her book, catching Max's gaze. Her lips curved into a soft smile. "Hey. Want to join me?"
Without hesitation, Max crossed the room. Instead of sitting next to her, he surprised both of them by lying down on the couch and resting his head in her lap. He looked up at her, his eyes vulnerable. "Would you read to me?"
YN's expression softened, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Of course," she said, her free hand moving to gently run her fingers through his hair.
Max closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation. He felt her shift slightly, getting comfortable, and then her voice filled the air, soft and melodious as she began to read.
Max's lips curved into a smile. "Emma," he murmured. "I remember you mentioning it was one of your favorites."
YN paused her reading, looking down at him with surprise and pleasure. "You remembered that?"
"Of course," Max opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. "I remember everything you tell me."
A huge grin appeared in YN's face, and she bent down to press a soft kiss to Max's forehead. The gesture was so natural, so tender, that it made Max's heart flutter.
As she continued to read, her fingers still combing through his hair, Max found himself only half-listening to the words. Instead, he was acutely aware of every point of contact between them - the warmth of her lap under his head, the gentle touch of her fingers, the soft cadence of her voice washing over him.
In that moment, Max realized with startling clarity that this was what he wanted for the rest of his life. Not just the glamour of racing or the thrill of victory, but this - quiet moments of intimacy, the comfort of being with someone who understood him, who made him want to be better.
He reached up, gently taking YN's free hand in his own, intertwining their fingers. She paused in her reading, looking down at him with a question in her eyes.
"YN," Max said softly, his voice filled with emotion. "I'm really glad you're here."
She squeezed his hand, her smile radiant. "So am I, Max. So am I."
As she resumed reading, her voice mixing with the soft sound of the Mediterranean breeze outside, Max closed his eyes again, a sense of peace settling over him. Whatever the future held, he knew that this moment, this feeling, was something he'd cherish forever.
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ynreadsbooks monaco you're the dream 🤍
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username1 GIRL
username2 THIS ESCALATED QUICKLY
username3 how do you go from max randomly commenting one of your videos to this
username4 girl we can tell that's max dw 😭😭
username5 YOU OWE US A TWO HOUR STORYTIME VIDEO
username6 anything you want to tell us best friend?
username7 she just had a book and a dream fr
landonorris Has he bored you yet?
↳ username1 IM DYING
↳ username2 she really masterminded her way into the f1 circle
↳ ynreadsbooks he's nice, makes good smoothies 😉
↳ maxverstappen1 Good to know that ❤️
↳ landonorris I'm disgusted
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As the final day of YN's stay in Monaco dawned, Max found himself feeling so many bittersweet emotions. The past week had been nothing short of magical, and the thought of it coming to an end left a hollow feeling in his chest. She hadn't even left yet, and already he missed her.
For their final day, Max had decided to take YN out on his yacht. He wanted their last hours together to be special, just the two of them away from the bustling streets of Monaco. As they prepared for the day, packing a picnic and gathering sunscreen and towels, Max couldn't help but reflect on the past week.
Daniel and Lando had teased him mercilessly about his sudden disappearance from their usual hangouts. They'd made jokes about Max being "whipped" and how he'd fallen hard for his "YouTube dream girl." But Max didn't care. He was too happy, too caught up in the bubble of joy that surrounded him and YN.
As they boarded the yacht, the Mediterranean stretching out before them in shades of turquoise, Max felt a pang in his chest. This perfect week was coming to an end, and he wasn't sure he was ready to face reality again.
Once they were out on the open water. YN leaned over the railing, a look of wonder on her face.
"This is incredible, Max," she said, turning to him with a dazzling smile. "I can't believe I'm here, experiencing all of this."
Max moved to stand beside her, their shoulders brushing. "I'm going to miss you," he said softly, "This week has been… I don't even have words for it."
"I'm going to miss you too, Max. So much. But you know I have to go back home. I have videos to make for my channel, work stuff to catch up on…"
Max nodded, understanding but not liking it. "Maybe you could make a video about 'A Week with an F1 Driver'? I'm sure your subscribers would love that."
YN laughed, playfully shoving his shoulder. "Oh yes, I'm sure that would go over well. 'Day 3: Watched Max eat his bodyweight in pasta. Day 5: Learned that F1 drivers are actually big babies when they lose at Mario Kart.'"
"I am not a baby!" Max gasped in mock offense. "I'm just… competitive."
"Uh-huh, sure," she teased, her eyes twinkling. "Is that why you pouted for an hour after I beat you?"
"I did not pout," Max protested, but he was grinning.
"You know, it's still surreal to me that a random video I published got us here. If someone had told me a year ago that I'd be spending a week in Monaco with Max Verstappen, I would have laughed in their face."
Max reached out, caressing her cheek softly. "I'm glad you made that video," he said softly. "I'm glad I stumbled across it. I can't imagine not knowing you now."
As they stood together on the boat, the gentle rocking of the waves mirroring the tumultuous emotions within them, Max found his gaze drawn to YN's lips. They were slightly parted, soft and inviting. His heart raced as he lifted his eyes to meet hers, a silent question in his gaze.
YN's eyes, warm and full of affection, met his. A small, knowing smile played at the corners of her mouth, and in that moment, it was all the permission Max needed.
With a gentle tug, he pulled her closer, one hand coming to rest on the small of her back while the other cupped her cheek. Time seemed to slow as he leaned in, their breaths mingling in the space between them. And then, finally, their lips met.
The kiss was tender at first, a soft exploration. But as YN's arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair, it deepened into something more passionate. Max poured all of his pent-up emotions into the kiss - his joy, his longing, his hope for what they could be.
When they finally parted, YN's eyes were sparkling. "You know," she said, a playful tone to her voice, "I've been waiting for you to do that all week."
Max couldn't help but laugh, a mixture of relief and happiness bubbling up inside him. "Really? All week, huh?"
"Mmhmm," she nodded, her smile widening. "I was starting to think I'd have to make the first move myself."
"Well," Max said, his voice low and teasing, "allow me to make up for lost time."
With that, he pulled her in for another kiss. This one was different from the first - more confident, more passionate. His hands roamed her back, pulling her flush against him as her fingers tangled in his hair. The world around them faded away until there was nothing but the two of them, the taste of salt on their lips, and the warmth of the setting sun on their skin.
When they broke apart this time, both were slightly dazed. Max rested his forehead against YN's, unwilling to put any distance between them.
"I really like you," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "More than I've ever liked anyone before. This week with you… it's been incredible. I don't want it to end."
YN's hand came up to cup his cheek, her thumb gently stroking his skin. "I really like you too, Max," she replied, her voice equally soft. "These past few days have been like a dream."
Max pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes. "I know you have to go back, but… I want to make this work. Us, I mean. If that's something you want too."
"I do want that. Very much. It might not be easy with our schedules and the distance, but I think you're worth it."
"We'll figure it out," he said, determination clear in his voice. "I'll come visit you when I can, and you can come to some of my races. We'll make time for video calls, and I'll text you so much you'll get sick of me."
YN laughed, the sound like music to Max's ears. "I don't think I could ever get sick of you," she said, her eyes twinkling. "But I'm holding you to that promise about the races. I expect VIP treatment, Mr. Verstappen."
Max grinned, pulling her close again. "For you? Always," he murmured, before capturing her lips in another kiss.
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The month following YN's stay in Monaco had been blissful happiness for both YN and Max. Their parting at the airport had been bittersweet, filled with lingering kisses and tight embraces. They had spent a good hour cuddling in Max's car in the airport parking lot, neither wanting to let go.
"I'm going to miss you so much," YN had whispered, her face buried in the crook of Max's neck.
Max had tightened his arms around her, breathing in her scent. "I'll miss you too. But we'll see each other soon, I promise."
When they finally managed to separate, their goodbye kiss had been passionate and filled with promise. As Max watched her disappear into the airport, he already felt a piece of his heart leaving with her.
In the weeks that followed, they took every opportunity to be together. Max would fly to YN's home during his breaks between races, often arriving exhausted but immediately revitalized by her presence.
Their reunions were always intense, filled with desperate kisses and roaming hands as they made up for lost time. But it was the quiet moments that Max treasured most - waking up with YN in his arms, her sleepy smile the first thing he saw; cooking breakfast together, stealing kisses between flipping pancakes; or simply sitting in comfortable silence, each lost in their own tasks but finding comfort in the other's presence.
Now, as they walked hand in hand through the paddock in Austin for the USA Grand Prix, Max felt a sense of pride and joy unlike anything he'd experienced before. Having YN by his side at a race weekend, this time as more than just a friend, felt right in a way he couldn't fully express.
"This is incredible, Max," YN breathed, squeezing his hand. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it."
Max grinned, his heart swelling with affection. He loved seeing the paddock through her eyes, rediscovering the magic that he sometimes took for granted.
"Wait until you see the track," he said, pulling her closer. "And the sound when all the cars start up… there's nothing like it."
They paused for a moment, watching as a group of mechanics wheeled a set of tires past them. Max took the opportunity to really look at his girl. She was radiant in the sunlight, her hair catching the light and her eyes sparkling with excitement. He couldn't resist leaning in to place a soft kiss on her cheek.
YN turned to him, a playful smile on her lips. "What was that for?"
"Do I need a reason to kiss my girl?" Max replied, his voice low and teasing.
She laughed, the sound music to his ears. "I suppose not. But maybe save some for later? We are in public, after all."
"You're killing me," Max groaned dramatically. "How am I supposed to focus on racing when you look like that?"
"Oh, I'm sure you'll manage," YN teased, patting his chest. "After all, I hear you're quite good at this driving thing."
Their playful banter was interrupted by a familiar voice calling out. "Oi, Verstappen! Finally decided to grace us with your presence?"
Max turned to see Daniel approaching, his trademark grin in place. Lando was close behind, an equally mischievous look on his face.
"Hey guys," Max greeted, unconsciously pulling YN closer. "You remember YN, right?"
"Ah yes," Daniel's grin widened. "Nice to see you again, love."
"It's great to see you too, Daniel," she smiled warmly. "And you, Lando."
Lando's eyes darted between Max and YN, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "So, Max, finally managed to seal the deal, huh?"
Max felt his cheeks heat up, but before he could respond, YN jumped in.
"Oh, he did more than that," she said, her tone light but with a hint of something that made Max's pulse quicken. "He's been quite… impressive."
Daniel let out a low whistle while Lando burst into laughter. Max couldn't help but join in, marveling at how effortlessly YN fit into his world.
As they chatted, Max couldn't keep his hands off YN. He found himself constantly touching her - a hand on the small of her back, playing with her fingers, rubbing her arm softly. Each touch was like a spark, reminding him of their passionate reunions over the past month.
He thought back to their last meeting, just a week ago. He had flown to her place straight after he was done with some meetings in Monaco, exhausted but desperate to see her. The moment he stepped through her door, all fatigue had vanished. They had barely made it to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake. The memory of her skin against his, the taste of her lips, the sound of her gasps and moans… it was enough to make him want to whisk her away to his motorhome right now.
Max was pulled from his thoughts by the approach of another familiar face. Charles Leclerc was walking towards them, his trademark charming smile in place.
"Max! Good to see you, man," Charles said, clapping Max on the shoulder before turning his attention to YN. "And who might this lovely lady be?"
Without hesitation, the words tumbled from Max's lips: "This is YN, my girlfriend."
He felt the girl stiffen slightly beside him, and for a moment, panic flared in his chest. Had he overstepped? They hadn't explicitly discussed labels yet. But when he glanced at YN, she was smiling warmly at Charles, her hand still firmly in Max's.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Charles," YN said, shaking his hand.
Charles raised an eyebrow at Max, a hint of surprise in his expression. "The pleasure is all mine. I hope you're enjoying your time in the paddock."
After exchanging a few more pleasantries, they parted ways. Max led YN towards his driver's room. Once inside the relative privacy of the small space, YN turned to him, a playful glint in her eye.
"Girlfriend, huh?" she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of something Max couldn't quite identify.
Max felt a flutter of nervousness in his stomach. "I… yeah. I mean, if that's okay? I know we haven't really talked about it, but…"
YN stepped closer, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. "It's more than okay, Max. I was just surprised. We've been in this beautiful bubble, and hearing you say it out loud… it made it feel real in a way it hasn't before."
Max let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His hands found their way to YN's waist, pulling her closer. "It is real," he said softly. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. Feels like you're everything."
Her eyes softened, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. "You're everything to me too, Max. I love you."
The words hung in the air between them for a moment, both realizing it was the first time either had said it. Then Max surged forward, capturing YN's lips in a kiss that was equal parts tender and passionate.
When they broke apart. Max rested his forehead against YN's, his eyes closed as he savored the moment.
"I love you too," he whispered. "God, YN, I love you so much."
YN's answering smile was radiant and she pulled him in for another kiss.
"So," he said, his voice husky, "ready to watch your boyfriend win a race?"
YN laughed, the sound filling the small space and Max's heart. "Always," she replied. "My misunderstood hero with a heart of gold."
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back to the kittty, cause she's kinda pretty!
pairings ⸺ (SEPERATE) bf!sukuna x reader x toji, masseuse!nanami x reader, bully!suguru x reader, childhood best friend!choso x reader, best friend!gojo x reader
summary ⸺ jjk men as overused p0rn tropes! (part 2) inspired by this awesome post by the cool and super talented @/osamucide! pls check it out and the rest of his work :3
warnings ⸺ SMUT (mdni), sub!satoru supermacy, porn no plot, vaginal sex, doggy, fem reader, "sloppy seconds," pre-established consent for all, reader accidently eats an aphrosidiac for choso's, bullying in suguru's, oral (m and frecieving), fingering, semi-public humiliation, lowk pathetic toji, art by 3aem, nOT EDITED
a/n choso's is my favorite yet again i love a pathetic man that rails me into next tuesday <3
kinktober masterlist | general masterlist
KAMO CHOSO ⸺ MY HOT CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND ATE SOME WEIRD CHOCOLATE AND WANTS ME TO DICK HER DOWN!
Your best friend, Choso, was lounging on his couch, flipping through different movie options on Netflix while you were in the kitchen, bending and squinting through the different options. It’s a Friday night, and the both of you opted to stay in for movie night.
“Choso!” You complained, huffing while putting your hands on your hips to shout at him in the living room. “Why do you only have fuckin protein shakes and raw chicken in your fridge?”
All you get is a noncommittal shrug while he pauses on the preview for some shonen anime. “There should be some chocolate.”
Gasping in excitement, you go back to rummaging through his fridge like a raccoon and there you find it—-a pink chocolate box titled “tabs.” Smiling to yourself in excitement, you don’t hesitate before popping on of the bars in your mouth, appreciating the cherry flavor while grabbing another one. With your mouth full, you ask, “Do you want one? These are sooo good, where'd you buy them?”
“Nah, I’m good. Just come over here, you’ve been taking too long.” He sends you a glare and motions for you to sit next to him, to which you set the chocolate back in the fridge and pad your way over to him. “I think Sukuna bought these off the internet and that they were kinda bougie.”
You look at him, slightly alarmed. “Isn’t he going to kill you?”
He looks over at you—a little softly, you note—and ruffles your hair, to your dismay. “It’s okay, I’ll buy it again for him. Gonna blame your big back ass for it being gone.”
“Die.” You stick your tongue out, crossing your arms while settling into his side.
Choso noted that you were being a bit more cuddly than usual, touching him more as soon as you got onto the couch. He decides to ignore it. “Ok, we’re going with Spider-man, k?”
You nodded into his side—he could tell you were flushed by the way you had continued to grow warmer and warmer, with beads of sweat dotting your temple. He paid it no mind, choosing instead to click on the movie and watch it play.
You were heating up.
You tried to ignore it, because you hadn’t felt feverish before or done anything in particular to cause you to be sick (your coffee and ramen diet had been fixed after midterms season after Choso got on your ass about it). But about 25 minutes into the movie, you couldn’t bear it anymore, your vision blurring at the edges as you mumbled, “‘ts too hot. Gonna take off my shirt.”
Choso, who had been focused on the movie, tensed and looked at you, eyes slightly widened. “Wh—” Before he could even get a word out, you stood up—eyes slightly unfocused—arching your back while grabbing the bottom hem of your t-shirt and peeling it off, causing Choso to gulp as you uncovered the swell of your breasts in your red lace bra. You went back to borrowing yourself on his side, the softness of your boobs pressing against his arm.
Choso closed his eyes because there was nooo way he was popping a boner for his best friend. No way. As both of your eyes went back to the movie, Choso focused on reciting the Japanese National Anthem to distract himself from the soft breaths you were letting out near his ears—and the way they tickled them—as well as the rise and press of your chest against his arms as you heaved.
You, on the other hand, did not feel relieved. At all. There was a stickiness in between your thighs that made you think your period had started, but it had ended a week ago. You were probably just ovulating. Cuddling into Choso further, you put your legs on either side of his torso, burying your face into his neck and taking a deep sniff. At this point, you ignore the movie as you tried the soothe the heat that was going through you.
“What are you doing?” Choso was ram–rod straight and turned to peer down at you incredulously while reciting in his brain, until the tiny pebbles, grow into massive boulders.
You continued your whiffing—-he just smelled sooo good—and sobbed, “I don’t know, but it hurts.” At this point, the feeling between your thighs was unbearable. You started to subtly grind on the side of his torso, much to Choso’s surprise. “‘M sick, Cho, but I’ve been eating healthy! I promise!” you whined. “Except for the chocolate right now. It hurts!”
At that moment, he knew he fucked up.
These were the tabs chocolates Sukuna was buying for his girlfriend. The ones viral on social media for serving as aphrodisiacs.
“Fuck,” he groaned while you continued to rub yourself onto him, now fully moaning and sighing as you tried to chase relief. “Fuck! I fucked up.”
“Choso,” you whined loudly, prompting him to leave his state of anguish to look at you worriedly. “I feel so empty.”
Choso snapped.
Bent over, face buried in a pillow on the couch, Choso rams into your creamy, wet pussy, the squelching sounds echoing across the empty apartment. Punctuating his words with a thrust, “is-” plap! “what-” plap! “you-” plap! “wanted?”
“Yes!” you squeal, body bouncing as his rough snaps of his hips jostled you around, “You’re making me feel so good, Cho!”
“Do you know how much of a tease you’ve been?” he growled, balls hitting your ass as he pulled a hand back to spank you, red handprint imprinting itself on your cheeks. He groans at the sight of him leaving his mark on you. “Gonna take my cum, right?”
FUSHIGURO TOJI AND SUKUNA RYOMEN ⸺ I GET MY BEST FRIEND’S SLOPPY SECONDS! (a/n lol im not gonna lie this is just me ovulating and wanting to be creampied by two men)
Whenever Toji was at Sukuna’s place, it was like you, his girlfriend, pretended he wasn’t there. Because why were you always dressed in the tiniest of shorts and a tank top that could barely even hold your tits in and keep them covered? Sometimes, Toji thought it was Sukuna’s play—dangling you in front of him like a piece of meat, reminding him what he couldn’t have.
Sukuna and Toji did have a bit of a…competitive friendship—one of good nature, of course. Toji, nonchalant as he is, didn’t really care whether he lost or not in the little skirmishes they had, whether it be seeing who can lift the most at the gym or walk somewhere faster. But he’s definitely seen Sukuna eye his groin in a mental competition to see if he was bigger or not.
Safe to say, Sukuna relished in the win. In a sense, he was obsessed with the submission. Not that Toji could care. He didn’t care when he flaunted his girlfriend around, groping you in front of him just to make him feel jealous…right?
Because why was his dick hard, him all hot and bothered as he listens to your moans and the plap! plap! plap! and squelches of Sukuna’s dick drilling in you? You’re both in the room, and Toji’s in the living room, confused as to why the fuck Sukuna asked him to come over when you clearly had a dick appointment with him.
“Mmm, Sukuna you’re making me feel so good!” You whine, and Toji curses, closing his eyes and cursing whatever god was out there to make him subject to such torture. In his gray sweatpants, his bulge is undeniable as he hears Sukuna pleasure you.
Then, he hears Sukuna call out to him, jumping as the other man yells, “Yo, Toji. I know you’re out there, man. Come in!” He then laughs meanly, speeding up to silence whatever protests you were making. Toji curses once again and moves to open the door just for his eyes to widen at what he’s seeing.
There is an obscene amount of cum oozing from your hole, it looked battered and swollen from the abuse Sukuna has dealt to it. There are tears in your eyes, a pretty pout on your face as Sukuna continues to use you as your fucktoy. And Toji realizes that Sukuna is looking at him while his hips languidly gyrate into you.
“‘kuna–” you sob, embarrassed and cheeks heating up even further as you felt Toji’s eyes rove over your form, utterly decimated by Sukuna.
But you’re interrupted out of any potential protests you can make as Sukuna smacks your ass���Toji’s eyes not missing the jiggle—as he abruptly pulls out and motions Toji to come closer. “I’m gonna let him borrow you, okay baby? You see, Toji’s kind of pathetic here. Might as well give him sloppy seconds, right?”
With that, Toji is moaning as he slowly enters you, your pussy sweetly clamping on his dick as he can literally feel Sukuna’s cum every time he thrusts. The utterly debauched feeling of his still-hot come lubricating his every thrust makes his eyes roll back, lost in the feeling of your pussy as you whimper and squeal everytime he hits your g-spot.
“Yo,” and Toji’s attention is temporarily swayed to Sukuna, who’s watching the both of you with darkened eyes, manspread in a chair. “Come inside, okay? It’s my treat.”
NANAMI KENTO ⸺ DIRTY MASSEUSE GIVES HOT BABE A DEEP TISSUE MASSAGE! (WITH A HAPPY ENDING)
Working in corporate was hell.
Sitting in a chair all day slaving away at spreadsheets and emails was definitely not something your younger self imagined you doing, but alas, you were only but a slave to capitalism. Even your hip flexors could feel it—they were tight, and your upper back hurt a lot.
So, here you were, in the waiting room of this bougie massage salon that you decided to treat yourself to. After all, you’ve been a good girl with your savings, making sure not to spend loads on stress-virtual-shopping so you can blow lots of bucks into this 2 hour service. The lobby is neat and glamorous, as you wait while rubbing your back. You’re currently engrossed in watching a compilation of Moo Deng videos until a deep cough interrupts you. “Miss?”
You turn to face the rich, baritone voice that’s said your name, and then suddenly reeling back. In front of you was probably one of the most handsomest men you’ve ever seen, with blond hair and sharp cut facial lines. He’s rubbing his palms together, which seem laden with oil as he looks at you plaintively. “Shall we take it to the massage room?”
“Y–yes. We can do that,” you nervously affirmed, gathering your purse and belongings to tightly follow behind him.
When you arrive at the room, the stoic man motions for you to get changed. “Please put on a towel. We’re going to be doing a deep tissue massage, so the towel will serve as a protective measure.”
You blush at the thought of this man seeing your body covered in nothing but a towel, but follow his directions regardless, putting your belongings in a corner while you step out of the changing room and into the massage room once again. You try to preserve your modesty as best you can as you go to lie down on the table. The only things you hear from him are the clinks of bottles as he rummages through different oils, uncovering them. The smell hits you dead on, soothing your senses already with the essential oils.
And then, his rough, big hands are on your back, pressing into your shoulder blades. You jump, like a scared deer, and he lets out a deep chuckle. “My bad. I’ll be doing your back side first.”
“Okay,” you whisper in response, already closing your eyes in bliss with the way he’s roving his thumbs over the planes of your back, pressing in deep as he works out the kinks in your back.
In one particular spot in your lower back and hips—the one that’s been hurting like a bitch because of your endless time sitting in a chair—he presses his thumbs with the exact right pressure, and you moan.
You can’t help it—the chronic back pain has always been there, but he makes it disappear with a languid movement of his fingers over your back. But he pauses slightly as soon as the whimper comes out of your mouth. “Miss, are you alright?” Flushing, you are quick to affirm. “Yes, sorry.” With a lower voice, you say, “That was, um, that was just really relieving.”
He laughs melodically and continues his ministrations, going even lower, but pausing right before putting his hands on your ass. “May I pull the towel up? Direct contact will be helpful in this region for a deep tissue massage.”
“Y-yeah,” you say softly. “You can do that, you’re the professional.” He’s just doing this for massage reasons, right? With your consent, he slowly inches up your towel to uncover your bare ass to him, you clenching your thighs with the fact that he can see everything.
He then puts his hands on the fat of your ass, moving his hands in a circular motion that spreads your ass every time he moves in an outward rotation. Kento’s trying really hard to stay professional, but seeing your glistening wetness makes him groan inwardly. “Miss,” you perk up slightly as he refers to you, “I’ll continue with the deep tissue massage as requested, okay? There’s a spot that I believe really needs my attention.”
Innocently, you nod, and Kento can’t help but feel so aroused that you’re so naively believing him, letting him touch you as if it’s an appropriate part of his job. His hands inch closer and closer, and soon enough he’s fingering you while languidly licking you up.
“Does this feel good, miss?” Kento is out of breath as he nudges his nose deeper into your pussy while you’re squealing at the feeling of his fingers slamming into your g-spot, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he goes in, sucking at your clit just perfectly.
“It’s rude not to answer someone,” your masseuse gives you a slap, and quickly soothes it over.
“‘M sorry!” you squeal, bucking your hips as soon as you feel like you’re getting closer, “It feels soo good.” With that, he pauses his ministration to give you a gentle kiss on your pussy, and the plush of his lips is enough to set you squirting, riding his face as you drench him in your juices. Safe to say, you were feeling very de-stressed.
GOJO SATORU ⸺ BEST FRIEND CATCHES HIM MASTURBATING, JOINS IN ON THE FUN!
Satoru groans, squeezing his ball at the base to avoid cumming prematurely. What he was originally doing was trying to find some porn to empty his balls to, releasing stress and gaining dopamine from masturbating. But eventually—like he’s been doing a lot these days—his fingers direct him to your Instagram profile. You, his best friend.
Satoru does this in secret, waiting until he’s alone in his and Suguru’s apartment to go into his room, close the door, and sin by thinking of you in a way friends don’t of each other. So, he’s trying not to bust too early while he zooms in on your tits in the cute bikini picture you posted just last week, the ones he took of you. The pixels of your magnificent breasts zoom in, sweat and water glistening off of them as your bra hugs and makes them sit just right. He groans, throwing his head back as he feels his cockhead pulse again, deciding to end his edging to cum.
In his focus on stroking his dick—the squelching and whines echoing in his room—he doesn’t notice the sound of the door opening. Nor of the footsteps heading towards his door, because he moves his hand up and down, up and down, up and down until he’s so close to cumm—-
“Satoru! I got us some mochi!” You yell loudly, and Satoru screams in return, albeit for a different reason. As your head whips up to look at him, alarmed at his shout, you register that his cock and balls are out. And that, in his left hand, is a photo of you.
You blink, and Satoru blinks back, except with a red, throbbing length in his hand. Then, slowly, you ask, “Why is my picture open, Satoru?”
Satoru swallows, already hearing funeral bells and utters out, “I—I—that was a mistake. I meant to be on Pornhub. Haha! I mean,” he continues on rambling, “why would I be looking at your picture? Obviously, my hand slipped while I was jerking off I mean—” he cuts himself off, because in his yapping, he’s failed to notice how you’ve stalked over to his bed, now straddling him while spitting on his cock.
“Fuck,” he curses, as his pupils dilate watching the thicky, frothy mix of your spit ooze down from your pursed lips onto his dick. “W–what are you—” You motion for him to stand up, orienting yourself so that your throat was hanging off the bed and you were on your back on his mattress.
“Since you’re so desperate,” you give him a deadly sweet smile as he stands, dick above your face. You give his tip a little kiss, and he shivers. “You can fuck my throat.”
Satoru definitely takes you up on that offer.
He can’t even believe that he’s here, you deepthroating his dick so nice. “Thank you, thank you,” he whines, gyrating his hips sloppily into the tight, wet heat of your mouth as your lips suckle on him. “Needed this so, so much.” You’ve even uncovered your tits, them bouncing nicely as Satoru continuously lodges himself in your throat. “Please, please let me cum.”
You gently push against his hips, indicating you want him out of your mouth. Raspily, you wipe the trail of spit that’s left your mouth and laugh meanly and give him a deceptively sweet kiss on his balls. “You have to last at least 10 more minutes, okay?”
And Satoru can do nothing but obey you, driving himself to the hinge of climax but never over, whimpering as your mouth swallows him up.
GETO SUGURU ⸺ BIG DICKED BULLY FUCKS CUTE ANIME GIRL INTO SUBMISSION!
Your safe haven is your library. There, the man who’s been torturing you for most of your college career, Suguru Geto, doesn’t know where you hide, nor does he frequent the place. You’re focused in on your assignments right now, having fallen behind due to Suguru’s antics of bothering you and disturbing your peace to humiliate you across campus. It’s late at night, and there’s not a lot of people to disturb you. You thought.
You’re wrenched out of your state of focus as someone harshly pulls your chair back, grabbing your chin to meet your eyes with his. Your bully, Suguru.
You gasp in surprise as he roves his eyes over you and what you’re wearing. A short skirt, one he dare wouldn’t admit made you look cute, and a sweater. Silently, he sits down while you tremble, looking at him with shaky eyes that makes his cock swell in his pants.
He smirks. “You thought you could hide from me?” He then ticks his head towards your textbook. “Whatcha reading? Recite it to me.”
Even though you were confused as to why he would have you do that, you hurried to do as he said. Meanwhile, his siren eyes roved over your form, choosing to settle in between your thighs.
“Schroedinger’s theory had proved classical physicists wro—-“ You’re interrupted by your own gasp, because Suguru’s laid a hand that’s gently caressing your inner thigh.
“Go on,” he purrs, getting closer and closer to the heat of your pussy.
You swallow and go on. “…had proved classical physicists wrong, showing that unexplained phenomena in spectroscopy and atoms demonstrated discrete—-“
Meanwhile, he’s inched his hand inside of your panties, softly rubbing at your clit in a manner unbecoming of the mean Suguru you know. Before you know it, your orgasm was creeping up on you, and your legs were trembling while Suguru buried his face in your neck, giving you soft kisses.
“Cmon, you slut,” he whispered, the softness of his voice contrasting with the harshness of his words, “are you too stupid to read?”
You whimper as he delves a finger into your hole, collecting the ooze there and going back to your clit. “…atoms demonstrated discrete properties, referred to as quanta—-“ It’s with a nasty lick to the shell or your ear that you’re cumming, squealing loudly as you cream on his fingers, humiliated at the show you were forced to put on in the library.
Suguru pulls his fingers out and sucks on them languidly, looking you in the eye. “Now slut, you’re going to do that seated on my dick. Got it?”
kinktober masterlist | general masterlist
a/n hiii pookies this was late sorry </3 but ANYWAYS im excited to write (and ride) cowboy geto and spiderman!gojo next! consider joining my kinktober taglist if you're interested <3 part 1 of this here btw
comment and reblog to let me know ur thots :p
TAGLIST
@sugoroo @ryutotsukai0824 @sharkubi @lisvanrouge @mxlktae
@samisfunky @achbbys000 @xd3pr3ss3dx @jottositto @cheescakebroom
@r0ckst4rjk @callmeagardengnome @rottmntrulesall @blankwashed @sindulgent666
@honeynanamin @obsessgurlll @starrnai @herefor-tojis-tits
#gojo smut#toji smut#sukuna smut#choso smut#nanami smut#geto smut#jjk#gojo x reader#sukuna x reader#toji x reader#nanami x reader#choso x reader#jjk x reader#geto x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#gojo x reader smut#toji x reader smut#satoru gojo x reader#toji fushiguro smut#nanami x reader smut#choso x reader smut#geto x reader smut#aashi writes#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru x reader#divider by cafekitsune
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One Single Thread of Gold
Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Part 2 Summary: The three times Penelope tries to solve a Spencer Reid riddle and the one time she (and the team) meet the reason behind all the changes Trope: Fluff! Just fluff and team banter! w.c: 4.0k a/n: For some reason, my earlier post on this disappeared dunno why. But this is a very self indulgent fic as reader’s background is basically based on the industry I work in. I had a lot of fun writing the team banter and I hope you enjoy it too! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗
The first clue presented itself on a dull Wednesday night as the team, minus Hotch and Rossi, were leaving the bullpen after a full day of pushing papers. Penelope in all of her sunshine and colorful glory was buzzing about these accessories that she once spotted on a storefront window.
“I saw a pair of earrings and a matching necklace that would look so good with that top you bought the other day, JJ. You know, the blue one with those soft sleeves—they would look great with it. It’s tres boho chic.”
JJ smiled, opening her mouth to reply, but Spencer beat her to it.
“Did you know that boho chic was actually a response to political and social movements?”
“Wait, what?” Emily interjected.
He took her disbelief as a sign to continue on. “Yeah, yeah. There’s an article written about it in Vogue—softness and femininity historically appears in moments of political stress and war. Just like in the 70s with the hippie and anti-war movement that defined their style as a generation.”
They all piled into the elevator and turned to face the boy genius like he grew another head. For all they knew, this could be a clone and a very bad one at that. The Spencer Reid that they knew had absolutely no interest in the realms of fashion.
Penelope was the first to break the silence. “Vogue?”
“Kid, what gives? Just the other time, you didn’t know how many shoes a woman owns and now you’re some kind of expert?” Derek asked with both eyebrows raised.
“Did not knowing activate some kind of button that made you want to read about it?” Emily added on, feeling like she was in some kind of TV prank show.
“What?” Spencer licked his lips, nervous with all the attention on him. He felt like he was about to slip something up that he had been keeping to himself for a while now. A hidden precious gem that was you. “I—I like to read.” A believable excuse except his voice went up an octave, giving him away.
The three women shared a look.
“But you read academic textbooks and classic literature,” JJ stated.
Penelope added on. “Not fashion magazines.”
He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I don’t discriminate when it comes to reading. If it’s interesting—” he shifted his weight one side to another, thinking that the ride down on the elevator seemed to be taking slower than usual. “—I’ll read it.”
Penelope narrowed her eyes. She was no profiler but she could smell a lie from a mile away way. That wasn’t the whole truth. Dr. Spencer Reid was hiding something.
“Okay, see you tomorrow!” he squeaked out as he ran out of the elevator once it hit the lobby.
She turned to the three profilers, stunned with the boy genius’ erratic behavior. “Huh, did anybody else get the feeling that Spencer was hiding something?”
“Maybe, but the kid does read a lot. Maybe he just ran out of books.” Morgan shrugged.
The other two profilers tilted their heads and slowly nodded in agreement. It wasn’t far off on something Spencer would do. He did once pick up a pamphlet in the airport to read as mentioned before to her by Derek, granted it was for a case but still, Penelope couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else.
So when she arrived home that very same night, she propped up her laptop and got to digging. Boy Genius was hiding something big and Little Miss Oracle of Quantico can find anything with her tech skills. She’ll get to the bottom of this mystery, once and for all.
———
Spencer was glad to be coming home to your presence. Having spied the lights still on from the outside of the apartment, he took the steps two at a time, excited to see his 2nd favorite person after his mother—you.
“Spence?” You called out, having heard the mahogany front door open. “Is that you, baby?”
“Hey, love. I missed you,” he deposited his satchel to the nearby sofa and ran to give you a hug.
You burrowed yourself into his arms. All the muscles in your body relaxing as you caught a whiff of his cedar wood perfume—the same scent you’ve gifted to him during the early stages of dating. “I missed you too. How was your day?”
“Better now with you,” his words coming out muffled as he refused to detach himself from the embrace. “Actually, I almost slipped up today.”
You extricated from his arms to give him an inquisitive look. The slight scrunch on your nose and raised brows made his heart flutter. How expressive, free, and trusting you were. It reminded him of your first encounter. How you teasingly asked him if he was a serial killer when he offered you a ride home in the pouring rain and how you easily accepted regardless.
“Yeah? Did any of them catch on?” you probed as you pulled him by his belt loops to the direction of the bedroom.
He laughed, finding your aggression cute. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”
“Maybe we should schedule dinner with them sometime,” you coyly suggested as you slowly started to unravel his tie. “I mean, we’ve been together for over a year now and I have moved into your apartment, under the guise of watering your plants while you’re away. Which is a lie, by the way—”
“I have plants!” he protested. His hands divesting you out of his sweater, bringing to view his favorite silk set in deep purple that accentuated your skin and the blush on your cheeks.
“—that I brought over, Spence,” you quipped back. “But don’t worry, I won’t spill how the intelligent FBI agent fooled naive me into moving in with him.”
There was a glint in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. “Love, I wouldn’t exactly call you naive—” his voice going an octave lower. “—not when you’re looking at me with those tempting eyes of yours.”
Giggling, you leaned in for a kiss, one that he quickly took over. His calloused dominant hand wrapped around the back of your neck, effectively caging you in while his other cradled your cheek—a stark contrast to the other. Kissing Spencer had always felt like a religious experience that you never want to part from.
Reluctantly pulling away, you caught glimpse of his need for you. His hazel eyes now dark as ink, nostrils slightly flared, teeth sinking into his lower lip, and his dominant hand dug into the fleshy nape of your neck. It made you feel desirable, like the goddess that he would call you when he’s on his knees tasting nectar from the source.
The discussion of inviting the team out for dinner was long forgotten. No other words were spoken as you pushed him on the bed—only the cries of his and your name and moans of ‘yes’ echoed well into the night.
***
The second clue was uncovered when Spencer walked into the cold windy bullpen with new black cardigan adorning his lithe body. It was non-descriptive to the untrained eye but for fashion enthusiast Penelope Garcia, she knew what those four white lines on the sleeve meant—luxury label and priced well above their pay grade.
She narrowed her eyes. The Spencer she knew wouldn’t dare spend his salary on anything besides limited first edition books. Something was truly up and she planned to get to the bottom of it as her initial online search turned up nothing.
“Reid, that’s a really nice sweater,” she complimented, throwing in her bait.
He smiled. The thought of who gave it to him warmed his heart. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks Garcia.”
Her sparkly pink kitten heels clacking on the floor as she came closer. “Can I see it?” she innocently asked.
The request threw Spencer off the loop but thought nothing of it as he shrugged and handed it to her—still warm from body temperature.
Her squeals caught the attention of the other profilers filling into the office.
“What is it, baby girl?” Morgan deposited his bag on the table and stationed himself beside her. “It’s Reid’s new sweater. Are you seeing something I’m not seeing?”
Garcia rolled her eyes. This was why females are considered more observant that their sex counterpart. Her chocolate thunder was a profiler but how could he not notice what she was deducing?
“Huh,” Emily surmised. “Based on the fibers, it’s definitely not polyester. Possibly a 100% wool, what do you think, JJ?”
“It says here on the tag—100% virgin wool,” she read out loud. “That makes it very expensive, right Garcia?”
The colorful tech analyst smiled. Her girls could never let her down. “Right you are, girlfriends! But it’s not only that, this—” pointing at the four stripes on the sleeve. “—this is a signature Thom Browne detail. Their prices go up to at least 600 dollars—” they all turned to Reid who seemed clearly agitated. “—now why does our boy wonder have a piece that could buy at most five cute heels?”
With his vast intellect, he couldn’t think of a way to weasel out of this impromptu interrogation. He couldn’t very well say that it was a gift now could he? If he did, that would lead to another hard hitting question ‘from who?’ He raked his hand through his curly hair, taking the same path as yours did just earlier as you gave him a kiss goodbye.
When you gifted him the cardigan from your last New York business trip, he really thought nothing of its material equivalence, besides feeling grateful and loved. It was proof that you paid attention to even the littlest details about him.
“Hey Spence, I got you something,” you looked up at him with sparkling eyes. The first thing you had done when you got home was run into his arms. A simple act that healed his aching heart from missing it’s other half.
You reached into your luggage, enthusiastically pulling out the black clothing wrapped in tissue paper like some magician pulling out a rabbit from a hat. “Here you go!”
“A new sweater!” He exclaimed.
You rocked on your heels, looking bashful as you explained the reasoning behind it. “I noticed you fidgeting when you wore the cardigan JJ gifted you last Christmas, the polyester fibers used on it must have been really itchy so I got you a new one—” your eyes widened at how your explanation could be taken the wrong way. “—not that her gift wasn’t great! No, it was very cute! It’s just—I want you to be comfortable and protected during your cases in cold states. Polyester is a good insulator of heat but wool is still the best.”
He loved how unabashed you rambled about your interests. That was one of the first things he piqued his notice. How you liked to share your knowledge about the fashion industry that you work for but never coming across as stuck up or snobby, you just genuinely wanted to educate anyone who had a wrong perception of the billion dollar commerce. Admittedly, he was one of them but hearing you rave about it’s nitty-gritty details and socio-economic movements changed his mind. It also helped that a beautiful and intelligent woman, such as yourself, was educating him.
He pulled you in for a kiss, stopping all the worries that ran through your head. “I love it. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing at all, baby. I like taking care of you. Just like how you take care of me,” you reasoned. “Plus I got it on sale courtesy of the magazine connections.”
A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. It was Penelope with an eyebrow raised at the subtle smile that graced his face while he replayed the moment in his head.
“Okay,” Morgan drawled. “What’s got you smiling, Pretty boy?”
“Nothing,” he squeaked out, turning to see Hotch make his way across the office. Spencer hurriedly collected his things and started to move even before their unit chief could call their attention.
“We have a case,” Hotch announced.
The remaining BAU members all looked at each other, silently communicating about Reid’s irregular demeanor, before piling into the conference room for another grueling scene of murder.
“He’s been acting weird,” Garcia rushed out. “Definitely hiding something. What do you think, Em?”
Emily nodded. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“A girl?” JJ guessed.
“Yes, must be a special one for him to keep secret for so long,” Garcia surmised. “Do you think he’ll hate it if I go further digging around to find out who she is?”
“Further?” Emily clarified.
JJ laughed. “Probably, let’s wait for him to volunteer the information. Okay, Garcia?”
She sighed, shoulders drooping, before nodding in agreement.
***
The third clue was quite literally handed to Penelope Garcia on the jet after a case when she accompanied the team.
“Cold Alaska is so not good for my skin,” she grumbled as she rummaged her bottomless bag for her favorite hand cream. “I love going with you all on trips rather than being stuck in my own tech cave but the weather wasn’t it.”
Morgan chuckled. “Aw c’mon baby girl, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy our time together?”
“You, my sculpted hunk, and the fireplace were the highlight,” Penelope turned to the other female profilers. “My beauties, do any of you have lotion? I think I lost mine.”
Before JJ or Emily could even utter a word, a tube made its way to her lap courtesy of her seat mate, Dr. Spencer Reid.
“Reid, since when do you carry lotion?” Emily inquired.
He shrugged. “Hand cream has it’s benefits besides from moisturizing the skin, it also provides an additional layer of protection. Depending on it’s properties, it can also repair and undo damage.”
The females all shared a look. This was another unexplainable behavior from their resident genius.
“We know that,” JJ stated. “We just thought you didn’t.”
His brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, besides from the fact that you’ve never shown interest about skincare before, isn’t it a stereotype for men not to know? Unless—” Emily slyly smiled and nodded at Garcia to continue.
“Unless you have a girlfriend that we don’t know about,” Garcia bounced on her seat.
Hook, line, and sinker.
Spencer’s eyes widened in alarm. He didn’t realize he was walking into a trap before it was too late. “What makes you say that?”
They laughed.
JJ started. “Besides from you suddenly being knowledgeable in fashion—“
“—or having a pricey sweater you’d never buy for yourself—” Emily added on.
“Or, or—“ Garcia reached out to touch his hand. Which made Spencer react with a high pitched call of her name. “—having a shea butter lotion with rough hands!” She waved the tube up in the air. “Plus, this is half empty. So either it’s not working which I doubt since this is a good brand or you keep this in your bag for a special someone to use!”
Derek chuckled. “Baby girl, you could be a profiler at this point.”
“Oh tell me something I don’t know,” she quipped back. “So Reid, want to tell us the truth?”
He sighed, finding no escape. “Yes, yes I have a girlfriend.”
The girls all shrieked with laughter and their own corresponding questions of who is she? How did you meet? How long has this been going on? What does she do for a living? Is she pretty? Oh I bet she is!
“Looks like that cat is out of the bag,” Rossi nonchalantly stated.
Four sets of eyes turned to look at one of the BAU founders. “Rossi, you knew about this and didn’t tell me?” Garcia gasped, a hand to her chest at the thought of betrayal.
He laughed. “I caught them on a dinner date once and our boy wonder over here—“ nodded in Reid’s direction. “—begged me not to out him yet, said he wanted to be the one to tell the team the news but that was like what, six months ago?”
“Six months ago?” Emily repeated.
“Wait, wait. Hotch, don’t tell me you also knew?” Morgan asked.
The unit chief smiled. “She was added to Reid’s emergency contact last February.”
“February? That’s almost a year ago!” JJ sputtered out.
The tech analyst turned to glare at the youngest member of the BAU. “Reid, you better start spilling all the details or so help me, I will stalk all your digital footprint when we land until I find out who she is, where she lives, and what her deepest darkest secret is.”
“What about hearing it all from her, instead?” He rubbed the back of his neck. The secrecy had gone on for so long and there was no time like the present to introduce his chosen family to his chosen partner—hopefully until the end of time. “She wants to treat you all out for dinner tonight.”
All four nodded vigorously as they watched him pull out his phone and send a quick text to which you readily replied and agreed to.
“My man,” Derek sighed. “Can’t believe you got a girlfriend without me being your wingman.”
“Answer me at least this, is she pretty and does she make you happy?” Garcia asked. No matter how nosey she may be, she only wanted the best for Spencer and if the recent lightness and smiles were all caused by his mystery girlfriend, she already approved.
“The prettiest,” Spencer gushed out. “She’s my own personal sunshine.”
The three girls melted into their seats. Their youngest was all grown up waxing prose over his lover.
“She makes you sappy too,” Derek teased.
***
[EXTRA - When the mystery was uncovered]
Spencer had never felt any more nervous that this moment as he, with the rest of the team minus Hotch and Rossi, wait for your arrival. He sat with his back to the restaurant entrance and his cardigan laying on the empty seat beside him as a reservation mark. His eyes had been going back and forth to his idle phone and to the conversation the team was having.
Morgan noted his state of distress and chuckled. “You okay there, lover boy? She’s still coming right, your mystery girlfriend?”
“Yeah, yeah. She said she was on her way 9 minutes and 24 seconds ago and based on the route and traffic, she should have been here 45 seconds earlier. Just worried that something might have happened.”
Penelope leaned in, picking on her bubblegum pink choice of drink as she did. “You know, if you just told me her name I could have tracked every movement by now and you wouldn’t be sitting here worrying.”
“What—no Garcia, I don’t want her tracked plus she didn’t want you to know everything about her even before meeting her,” his voice going up an octave in your defense.
She shrugged. “I’m just saying. I mean we don’t know a single thing about her—”
“We do know she exists and you’ve been together for almost a year now,” Emily interjected.
“Actually, it’s been more than year—one year and 124 days to be exact.”
“Buttercup, all I’m saying is we don’t even know how she looks—” Garcia gasped, having spotted a passerby on the window and what she was wearing. “Oh my gosh, that maroon coat is to die for and that textured leather bag—I wonder if I could track her down and ask where she got it.”
“Oh she’s pretty,” JJ noted.
Derek smirked. “Baby girl, tell me if you plan to ask her ‘cause I wouldn’t mind asking for her number.”
The tech analyst’s eyes further widened as she noted the attractive woman going inside the restaurant.
“You weren’t kidding about that coat, Garcia, it looks really nice,” JJ appraised.
Emily squinted her eyes, taking note of the garment in question. “It looks high quality, probably vintage and—is she going near us?”
“Oh gods, she is! Act natural, act natural!” Penelope chanted as she repeatedly slapped Derek’s arm.
The stranger stopped behind Spencer. “Hey handsome,” your melodic voice was a siren that called to his every being. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Penelope’s jaw dropped as she took in Derek’s flustered reaction.
“Me?” He pointed at himself, getting picked up in such a public setting was new even for him—the ladies man of the BAU.
You laughed. “Well, you too but I was more of talking to this lover of mine—“ you bent down, kissing your boyfriend’s cheek. “Hey, Spence.”
A series of gasps were heard all around the table.
The youngest stood up and turned to give you a soft kiss on the lips. “Hey, Y/N. I was starting to get worried.”
“I missed the train, sorry I forgot to send an update,” you explained as he helped you into your seat.
Promptly seating back down, he angled his body to yours—all attention on you as if you were the only one in the room. And in a way you were, with how molten his doe eyes stared, alternating between yours and your painted lips that begged to be kissed.
He always felt breathless when you were near. It was as if he found his very own Aphrodite to worship here on earth. Spencer was no believer of fates or destiny but he would pray and light a candle if he needed to, just to keep you his. Your intelligent mind complimenting his, your outgoing personality that draws anyone in, and your face that could launch a thousand ships.
Those eyes that could read the deepest crevices of his fiber of being. Those cheeks that begged to be caressed by his calloused hands. Those soft lips that deserved to be kissed and devoured until you, in turn, were as breathless as he was. He suddenly wished you both were anywhere else but here—specifically in the confines of the apartment where he was free to express his love, devotion, and adoration until you scream his name and beg him to stop. His hand, having found it’s way to your thigh, squeezed the flesh three times—communicating his promise to have your hair laid around you like a halo as you lay under him, bare and writhing with need.
The blonde on the other end of the table cleared her throat, cutting through the tension.
“Okay, Spence,” she smiled. “Mind introducing us to your girlfriend?”
He brought your hand to his lips, leaving a series of sweet kisses on your knuckle. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is the rest of the team. Morgan—“ he gestured to each one. “Emily, JJ, and Garcia.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you!” You exclaimed. “So sorry we’re only meeting now. We wanted to stay in our little bubble for as long as we could plus this handsome FBI agent—” you nudged Spencer’s shoulder. “—wanted to keep me to himself. But where’s Aaron and Dave?”
Emily whispered under her breath. “Aaron? Dave?”
“They had prior commitments, love. They did send their regards and Rossi wants to invite you to the next gathering at his mansion,” Spencer explained.
“Love?” Penelope squeaked out. This was really starting to feel like Twilight zone for the team members.
You nodded. “I’ll definitely plot it on my calendar. Now, I heard you had some questions for me?”
“How’d you two meet?” JJ asked.
“When was the first date?” Emily inquired.
Penelope brought out a pen and paper. “What’s you social security number?”
Derek snorted at that. “Do you have any other siblings?”
Spencer’s eyebrows raised further and further up with each question while your shoulders shook with laughter.
“She has all the time in the world to get to know each of you,” Spencer laid out. “No need to make it sound like an interrogation.” He was wishing to keep you forever, if you’d let him.
You smiled as you caressed his cheek, having caught on to the veiled meaning behind his words. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!
#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x reader#my own fics
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Keep talking // Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader
Summary: Simon really likes your new sundress AND wants to hear about your day. These things can coexist
Tags: established relationship, pretty domestic, yapper wife x silent husband, sunshine x grumpy kinda??? Whatever tropes the kids are saying these days suggestive but not NSFT, dumbification if you really squint, husband Simon Riley, pg-13 at worst
—
Simon was staring at you. Intensely. Him staring wasn’t exactly a new thing, he was a silent creature by nature. He watched, he listened. Especially to you. He loved listening to you.
You’d barely noticed his intense gaze as you flitted about the kitchen of your shared home, putting away the things you’d bought while you’d been out, all the while chittering on about your day, the people you talked to, the things you’d seen, things you’d bought, things you’d almost bought, things you didn’t buy, what you had for lunch, what you were thinking for dinner… And Simon listened like always, absorbing your presence like a plant absorbs sunlight.
Anyone else would have been cowed under the weight of his stare, but not you. Not only were you used to it, you loved having his attention. Every now and then you’d offer him a sweet smile when you looked to him or press a kiss to his cheek or jaw or wherever you could reach easiest as you’d squeeze past where he was leaning against the kitchen counter, absolutely dwarfing the appliances. His face gave away nothing, it never did so you kept talking- yapping, you’d call it jokingly.
“Anyways, that’s when I told her-“
“New dress, love?”
His interruption cut you off. You set down the purse you were unpacking and looked to him as you trailed off.
“Hm?”
Simon kicked off the counter, closing the short distance. It was then you noticed that his eyes weren’t on your face or eyes or even lips, but instead tracing the line of the strap laying on your shoulder.
“‘aven’t seen that one. Is it new?” His eyes roamed to the skirt where his fingers had caught a sliver of the bow in the back, “Soft.”
You cleared your throat as you turned around to face him, “I got it a few weeks ago, since it’s getting hotter, sun dress season and all, but it might be a little much for running around town…guess you haven’t seen it though-“
You cut yourself off again when you felt the tension in the tied back slack. The snapped your eyes to Simon, realizing he hadn’t dropped the bow’s string as you turned.
“I’d remember this one, lovie.” He was still gazing at the hem line appreciatively, where the delicate pattern you loved so much revealed your thighs.
“Well, then it’s new to you.” Your voice was quieter now that you’d realized the specific intensity in his gaze. Simon grunted in response, his large calloused hands resting at your hips. You could feel the roughness and warmth through the thin summer fabric.
“You were saying?” He reminded you with a slight smirk, knowing he’d derailed your train of thought. Cheeky bastard.
“Oh, uh,” You started again, preoccupied with the little circles he was rubbing on your hips, “I told her that, well, that-“
Simon nodded along to your barely coherent dialogue, as if he was listening to a TED talk. Heat was rising up your chest and neck as the solider kept getting closer until your chests were basically flush and your legs were interlocked, your chatting was only slightly better than babbling but you continued choking through your story. Even when he’d slowly moved you backwards so that you were the one pressed against the counter. You hadn’t realized you stopped once again until his brows raised, “that all?”
“Si-“ You all but whined, sharply gasping when he suddenly and effortlessly lifted you unto the kitchen counter, the stone counter chilling the backs of your thighs. Even sat on the tall counters, you still only came up to his broad chest, “We have your friends coming later-“
“And I cleaned up the yard just like you asked, love. Wearing this dress tonight?” Simon questioned gruffly, brushing a kiss first across the top of your head and then leaning down to dust a trail of kisses down your neck.
“What? Probably- but” you stuttered, the heat of his breath making it hard to track the different tracks of conversation.
“Good, does this come in any other colors?” His questions almost fell on deaf ears as he brushed the straps off your shoulders so he could continue his path down your chest. The hands on your hips had traveled first to your knees and were slowly hiking the hemline of your dress up. He paused when you didn’t answer, cutting those sharp eyes up to yours, squeezing your thigh to get your focus back on him and not just his hands. You hummed in confusion, “colors, love?”
“Oh, uh, a couple I think,” you nodded as the squeeze to your thigh turned to a kneading moving further up, “I wanted to try one, but it was hard to decide-“
Simon was sinking to his knees in front of you, never breaking eye contact, “Keep talking, love. I’m listening.”
Simon was a hard man to say no to, so you kept talking. Jumping from thought to thought as they became fewer and farther between, a hand in his hair to ground yourself as he’d offer questions from between your legs until you could no longer say anything but his name.
___
I wrote this in 20 minutes on an airplane. It’s not proofread nor is it really in character. First time writing for COD but hopefully not the last… we shall see where the hyperfixation takes me
#Simon Riley x reader#CODMW x reader#Simon Ghost Riley x reader#call of duty modern warfare x reader#ghost x reader
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rafe request - you having a nightmare where rafe cheated on you and even though it’s not real your still mad at rafe. maybe giving him the silent treatment and him having to apologize (even though he did nothing wrong lol)
A/N: i love whatever trope this is considered sooo much
rafe stirs from his sleep as golden spills from the opened curtains. he groans, eyes still shut as he reaches out expecting to meet your warm body. his eyes shoot open when he doesn’t feel you.
scratching the back of his neck, he scrambles out of bed and into the kitchen where you are pouring yourself a cup of coffee. he smiles when he sees you clad in your boxer shorts and tiny tank top.
“morning, beautiful.” he greets, his voice still raspy with sleep. his arms snake around your waist from behind, causing your body to stiffen. "why are you up so early?" he presses sweet kisses along the back of your neck.
you wiggle away from his grip, not even sparing him a glance or a response. he squints in annoyance and confusion. what had he done now?
“ignoring me, are we?” he asks as he grabs your wrist and pulls you back towards him. you greet him with a glare. “why’re you looking at me like that? i didn’t do anything.” he was dumbfounded at your unusual coldness.
“you cheated on me.” you stated simply with a pout.
“no i did not-”
“in my dream.” you specified. “you cheated on me in my dream.”
a laugh escaped his lips as you said that. but as you continued to glare at him, not finding this amusing, his eyes widened. “are you seriously mad at me for what i did in your dream? it’s not real, baby.”
“dreams foreshadow the future, asshole. so, that means you’re planning on cheating on me.” your tone left no room for debate. rafe’s jaw was agape. he couldn’t tell if you were joking or not.
“that’s such bullshit. you can’t be mad at me, right?” his amused tone made your eyes water and lip begin to quiver. tears started streaming down your face. “oh, honey, don’t cry. i’m, i’m… sorry for dream rafe. he’s such an asshole.”
“you’d never cheat on me, right?” you asked as through a choked out sob.
“i would never do that to you. not in a million years!” he reassured, pulling you into his chest and stroking your hair. “you’re so perfect, the only girl for me.” he murmured through kisses to the top of your head.
as you began to calm down, he pulled you away from his chest. his eyes traced over your face. “are you ok now?” you nodded and bit your lip.
“i’m sorry. it just felt so real.” your voice was tiny and quiet. s wave of embarrassment rushed over you, causing more tears to slip from your eyes. rafe shushed you, wiping away your tears, and mumbling more apologies.
“dream rafe is on thin ice.”
#rafe cameron blurb#nora’s writings 💐#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe obx#rafe cameron imagine#obx
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Unexpected Affections
Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader Tag List
Synopsis: With just a smile, you had managed to bewitch and enthrall the stoic and cold prince.
Warnings: Sunshine x Grumpy Trope, ¿Softer Aemond?, ¿Simp Aemond?, Jealousy, Mature, 18+, Fingering, P in V Sex, Oral Sex (f receiving), Overstimulation, Not Proof Read
Word Count: 7,287
A/N: Really milking softer Aemond bc I'm pretty sure I'm going to take a break from him once s2 is released.
He’s broken beyond repair. Too far gone to be saved. Aemond knew fully well that is how the others see him. The boy who had his eye taken was never the same. Darkness was his only solace, the walls too far up that no one dared to scale it and reach the true him— simply taking the dark and villainous scrap of his true self that he was willing to give. All seemed to give up on him— simply let him drown in his darkness, except you.
Like all things good, you came unexpectedly. You were a mere visitor from Highgarden, a noble lady who came with your lord father as he tended to business in the capitol. Aemond could never understand how you looked at everything and everyone with rose-colored glasses, but he supposed he should be grateful because if that trusting naivety in you were lost, your light would never come close to his looming darkness.
“Who is that?” Aemond asked his family’s most trusted knight, Ser Criston Cole. Your figure caught his attention; it was as if you were floating along the gardens of his home. A small smile on your face and flowers adorned in your hair. He stood near the balcony, discussing important business with the knight, when his train of thought was lost and captured by your mere presence. “Lady Tyrell, her father has business here with the crown,” the knight said absentmindedly. Aemond nodded and took one last glance at you before walking away.
The thought of you was quickly forgotten by the prince. He saw your presence as just another to add to the list of nobles at court who cowered upon his stature. However, you lingered in the back of his mind as he often saw glimpses of you walking through the halls of his home. Aemond stood in the gardens once more, this time waiting for his sister and her children when he caught your eyes. He waited for fear and apprehension to present themself in your orbs, the same reactions he would elicit from everyone. However, the prince was taken aback as you smiled at him. A small, respectable smile before you stole your eyes and continued to your promenading.
Aemond blinked his eye rapidly, trying to discern if he saw correctly or if it was a cruel trick made by his impaired vision. Aemond pursed his lips as he felt himself walk towards where you had passed. There was this odd pull about you— more than your beauty; if it was just that, a comely face was never one to put the prince in a trance. It was an ethereal element that beguiled Aemond quickly. He had not even spoken to you, yet you had already managed to put such an effect on him.
He watched from a distance as you bent down and assessed a flower, your fingers caressing the velvety petal and bringing it to your nose to discern the fragrance of it. Aemond felt that pull once more, his feet carrying him closer to you. When you stood straight, your brows raised in surprise as you had noticed you were no longer alone. “My prince,” You greeted with a curtsy, his silvery locks the warning sign that you spoke to royalty. Aemond was rendered silent, his mind already spinning at the sound of your voice. What was this? He could not explain what had overcome him. You bit your lip as no greeting left the prince’s lips, him only staring at you with an unreadable expression on his angular face. “Are… are you well, my prince?” You asked, daring to step closer and take hold of his arm to examine if he was truly well.
You watched as his lips parted and closed, no sound leaving it. “Perhaps you should find some shade; the heat may be too unbearable,” You say quietly and never take your hold off his arm, guiding him towards the shade of a willow tree in concern. Aemond was screaming at himself on the inside, hating that he was making a fool of himself, that he couldn’t even speak, simply letting you guide him towards the shade and making him sit on a bench. Your concern for his well-being consumes your face and his being. “Do you wish for refreshment, perhaps w—“ Aemond shook his head as he finally regained his senses.
You chewed on your cheek as the prince stood. “I am fine; I apologize for the— the intrusion, Lady Tyrell,” He said stoically, and you shook your head and smiled at him. “No need for apologies, my prince; no intrusion was made. But are you certain that you are well… you look a bit pale, my prince.” You say and quickly regret it as your mind reminds you that maybe that was just his true complexion. You swallowed thickly as you saw him pursed his lips, fearing that you had offended the prince. Aemond did not know how to take this concern— this kindness that he was never the receiver of. “I am quite well; good day, my lady.” He walked away in haste as he feared that if he stayed longer in your presence, he would make a further fool of himself. You stood there in confusion; your lips parted as the prince almost ran from you.
The thought of you haunted Aemond until the night, his arm still tingling from where you had placed your touch. He replayed the scene in his mind over and over again, trying to convince himself that your concern was fictitious— that it was a ploy to be in the good graces of the prince. But as he recalled the way your eyes bore into his, nothing but sincerity was evident in your orbs. How are you this kind? To a stranger, no less. Aemond was restless as he lay in his bed; his mind kept conjuring your interaction in the gardens, refusing him any other thought than you.
When morning came, Aemond had made great lengths to avoid you, silently embraced as he had made a fool of himself in the gardens. As his training ended, Aemond tried to find reprieve from the loud keep in the library. Aemond believed he was successful in his avoidance of you, but as he stood by the threshold of the silent room, he saw, as you were seated in one of the chairs, a book in your hand as you silently read. His presence was still not noticed. He could easily slip away and be successful in his avoidance of you, yet, just like the other days, his body could not help but be pulled towards you.
When you noticed a presence standing before where you sat, you flickered your gaze upward and locked eyes with the prince once more. “Prince Aemond,” You acknowledge and move to stand to greet him, but he silently raises his hand and hinders your actions. You copied his silence as he took the seat across from you. You traveled your gaze through the library, uncertain what to say or do. “I hope you are feeling better,” You say quietly. Aemond licked his lips as he was subjected to your dazzling presence once more; even though he had willed himself to avoid it, it seemed you were inevitable.
“I am; I was simply tired,” He said, making certain to place coldness in his tone, hoping it would deter you and no longer present him with your kindness he stubbornly took as deception. Aemond felt his breath catch as you gave him another smile. A relieved smile for his well-being that was so genuine that he could not stubbornly convince himself that it was not.
You stayed silent as you felt that that was what the prince preferred. You tried to return to your reading, but his velvety voice sounded through the room. “What business did you have here?” He asked. Aemond was testing you, presenting you with his cold and calloused self to see if it would have any effect on you just like it did the other. He watched calculatingly as your lips parted, and he found trouble to remove his gaze from your plush lips. “If I am being honest, I am not quite certain, my prince.” You said truthfully. You watched him raise his brow at you to explain further. “My father has business he needed to tend to here, but he had not disclosed to me the reason for it or why I needed to join.” Aemond nodded and watched as your eyes were never removed from his gaze, surprised that you could hold onto his intensified stare.
“So you have no purpose here?” He asked harshly. He expected a frown or a look of offense on your face, but he watched as you smiled as if you were amused and shrugged, “I suppose not.” Aemond stayed silent and continued to asses you as you returned to your reading.
“Do you like philosophy, Prince Aemond?” You asked after a stretch of silence, unable to bear the eerie and suffocating quiet. Aemond took a moment before he answered your query that no one had been interested in asking him before. “I do,” Another small smile appeared on your lips as you nodded. “Then have you perhaps read this? I have been mulling over the proposition of the archmaester for days now, but I cannot seem to comprehend it fully,” You say and turn the book you read towards him. Your fingers brushed as the prince took the book from your hands, and you could not hinder the chill that ran down your spine as you felt his cold, calloused fingers against yours.
You listened earnestly as the prince began to speak and explain the proposition you had trouble comprehending, going to great lengths to explain his thoughts on it, assisting and receiving any questions you had. Aemond paused in his explanation, feeling as if his mouth had gone dry by his prolonged speaking. He turned to the window and saw as the once high sun began to set; he returned his gaze to you, your chin resting on your palm as you had listened to his every word, clinging onto every syllable he had uttered. Aemond gulped as he realized his mistake. He had revealed too much of him; too much of his thinking was poured out in his explanation of philosophy. “I must take my leave,” he suddenly said, disregarding that he was in the middle of explaining another philosophical theory that was different from the first you had inquired about.
“Oh,” You said and straightened in your seat. Aemond wanted to frown as he detected disappointment in your tone and eyes. That cannot be, can it? Why would anyone be disappointed in his departure? “Good day, my prince,” You curtsied as you stood, not wanting to take more of his time. Aemond began to walk away, cursing himself for his actions, but he halted by the door as you spoke. “Thank you for your explanations… they were quite enlightening,” You said, and Aemond turned to you; the smile returned to your lips as you looked at him gratefully. Were you truly thankful? Thankful for him? Was that even a possibility? Aemond gave a curt nod and willed himself to walk away from you.
You were in the gardens once again. You were terribly homesick, and the gardens of the Red Keep were the only resemblance of your home that you could cling to. You were walking distractedly, a buzzing bee following you around as the flowers in your hair attracted the insect. You tried to squat it away, afraid to get stung when you accidentally missed a step, losing your balance, and were met with the cobbled floor of the gardens. Your jaw slacked in pain, and you tried to stand, your cheeks burning in embarrassment that someone may have seen your ungraceful fall. There was a stone by your side, and you tried to hoist yourself upon it, hissing as you accidentally placed pressure on your swollen ankle, but you were determined to stand and walk back to the keep to ask for assistance.
Unbeknownst to you, Prince Aemond had been observing you from above the gardens, and the moment he saw the sight of you falling, he made hastened steps to reach you. “My lady,” He called, trying to hide his panting, and approached you as if he had only stumbled upon your presence. You sat before a rock, and he noticed you hiding your injured limb from his view, “My prince,” Aemond watched in slight awe as you still tried to stand and curtsied before him, still holding onto formalities even though you were clearly hurt.
“Are you well?” This time, it was now Aemond to ask the question. You placed a tight smile on your lips, pretending that your injury was not at all bothering you. “I am fine, and you, my prince?” You asked, trying to speak of pleasantries. You shifted your weight on your uninjured leg and, for once, hoped that the prince would leave. “Are… are you certain?” Aemond inquired, wondering why you would pretend. “Y-yes,” You stuttered, and Aemond narrowed his eye.
You sighed and placed your head on the ground. “I… I tripped, and I think my ankle is injured— but I do not wish to bother you, my prince. I can wait for the swelling to subside.” Aemond frowned at your words. How were you so concerned about his well-being but not your own? Aemond shook his head and stepped closer to you, silently scooping you in his arms. “Wh— My prince!” You said in shock as you were stiffly settled into the hold of Prince Aemond. Your arms circled around his neck to stabilize yourself. “You don’t— I could have just waited for a squire or maid to assist me,” You said in a slight panic and could not even bear to look at the prince in embarrassment. “You are clearly in pain,” Was all he said as he carried you back inside the castle walls, the both of you earning strange glances from the members of the court.
Aemond returned you to your assigned chambers, trying to ignore the erratic beating of his still heart and the tingles on his skin from where he felt your touch. He placed you gently onto a settee, inhaling a whiff of your scent, and he felt intoxicated. He placed a respectable distance between you as the both of you waited for the maester he ordered a squire to fetch. Your gaze was still planted on the floor, and Aemond noticed the flush on your cheeks and the harsh bit you had on your lip, embarrassment clearly evident in you.
“I did not wish to bother you, my prince.” You say quietly, your tone heavy with guilt. Aemond could only hum a response, clueless as to why you were apologizing. The maester finally arrived, and Aemond stood by the side as he oversaw the maester, tending your injury. You tried to keep your pained reactions to a minimum as you felt conscious of the prince’s presence, but you could not help but hiss in pain, and your face contorted in discomfort as the Maester tried to move your injury. Aemond swallowed thickly as he himself was overcome with a phantom pain by the mere observation of yours.
“Will it heal, maester?” He asked in concern, stepping forward. “Yes, my prince, it is only a swollen ankle; it shall heal by the morrow,” The old man spoke and stood, placing a cold, damp towel upon your injury, and you reached forward to secure its place. Aemond gave a nod, and his eye followed the maester who exited your chambers, leaving the door open. Aemond returned his gaze to you, your eyes finally meeting his, and he once again felt his breath caught in his throat as you smiled at him.
“Thank you for your assistance and kindness, my prince,” You say gratefully, and Aemond felt his knees weak. No one had ever called him kind before. As always, you were met with his silence, but you dared say you were getting used to it. After a few moments of Aemond trying to comprehend your words, he gave a curt nod. “I shall leave you to rest; good day, my lady.” He said and willed himself to walk away from your presence he did not wish to leave.
Another day had passed, and Aemond had not seen a glimpse of your presence he had been trying to avoid just the day before. He had the urge to knock upon your door and to see how you were faring with your recovery, but he placed great restraint on himself as his mind deemed it inappropriate. So he waited another day. He stood by the gardens, his eye assessing every passerby as he waited for you. He had been stood by the balcony like a statue for the better part of the morning, but your presence had not been noted.
Aemond decided to walk around the castle, passing along every corridor in search of you and ready to act surprised as you two would eventually encounter once more. It was nearing sundown, and he had not seen a glimpse of you. Perhaps she is still resting. His mind told him, but Aemond was not entirely sold by that reasoning.
The prince attended his family’s supper in his mother’s chambers. He sat quietly in his seat and saw the aggravated and tired faces of his mother and grandsire as they came to the table late. “We apologize for our tardiness; the small council has been overburdened by a matter.” The queen explained as she took her seat. “What matter?” Aemond asked, always curious about the dealing made. “The crown cannot afford to pay the dues it owes to House Tyrell… it is too great a sum, and the lord has threatened to withhold back crops for the upcoming winter if we do not pay their price.” The hand spoke, and Aemond pursed his lips, knowing that the debt to your house had been since the time of the conqueror.
“Surely they could be reasoned with— they would not want to offend the rulers of Westeros,” Aemond said quietly and heard his mother sighed deeply. “Perhaps, but no meetings and negotiations can be made at the moment, for they had already left late last night.” Aemond’s hold on his fork tightened as he heard the words. You had gone without even a goodbye.
“I just do not know what we can offer to match their hefty sum,” the lord hand said and downed his wine. Aemond traveled his gaze around the table, his sibling not at all listening to the matter. “Offer me,” Aemond spoke, and he felt all eyes shift toward him. He turned to his mother, the queen’s lips agape in shock at his words. “The crown does not have money to pay our debt— then is it not a custom to offer marriage instead?” He asked rhetorically; the practice was made for centuries, but the price was usually paid with a princess, not a prince.
“Aemond, mere debts are not paid with a prince.” The queen said. “But it is not just a mere debt, now is it, mother? The Tyrells had as well placed a threat to the kingdom’s security over this winter— and the mere debt you speak of has been established since the age of the conqueror,” Aemond turned to his grandsire, who he knew would understand his proposition. The Hand pondered over his grandson’s words. “But you are set to marry the Baratheon girl,” Alicent countered, and Aemond scoffed.
“We owe nothing to the Baratheons, and do you not think that this matter looms greater?” He asked, “Lord Tyrell only has a daughter, does he not? In time, the seat shall pass onto me as well, alike with the arrangements with Lord Borros. And with this, the crown will no longer be indebted to their house,” Aemond said, determined to see you once more. “That is a most favorable solution,” The hand commented, quite content by his grandson’s proposition. The queen sighed and took a moment to think of the proposal. “Very well then,” she sighed, and Aemond hindered the smirk threatening to slip his lips.
“I shall draft the proposal tonight and send a messenger to Highgarden first thing tomorrow,” Otto said in finality. “No need, I shall offer the proposal myself in person,” Aemond said, and he saw apprehension in his mother’s eyes, disbelief by his decision, but none hindered him.
It was afternoon the following day when he had reached High Garden, Aemond riding atop his dragon through the morning, eager to reach his destination, you. “My prince,” Lord Tyrell greeted him by the gates of their castle. “What business is so urgent that the prince of the realm had to fly his dragon all over here to the reach?” They had not even reached inside the castle walls when Lord Tyrell could no longer hinder his curiosity.
“It is the matter of the crown’s debt,” Aemond replied, his eye scanning the halls in search of you. He heard your father reply with an ‘oh,’ clearly anticipating the conclusion of the matter. “Is the crown ready to pay us the price owed?” Aemond hummed as he passed a portrait of you hung on the wall of your home, his eye entranced by the picture. “In a way,” The prince danced upon the matter momentarily. “In lieu of a payment, the crown is prepared to offer a marriage,” Aemond stated and watched concussion flush over your father’s face.
“With respect, my prince, but that is an insulting offer. The crown has owed my house a great sum accumulated since the age of conquest!” Lord Tyrell seethed, and Aemond gritted his jaw. “I believe you are too hasty with your outburst, my lord. The crown is offering a union between me and your daughter— an opportunity for your only child to be a princess… your grandchildren having the Targaryen name.” Lord Tyrell shook his head, “My daughter is already bound to marry another— titles are one thing, my prince, but there is still a debt to be paid.” Aemond felt the fire in his veins awaken at your father’s words. You are to be bound to another; that cannot be. You cannot be anyone else’s when you had consumed his entire being— when you had presented him with such hope and kindness that he was certain he would find in no one else. You could never be not his.
Aemond licked his lips, certain that the words he would utter would be a gamble. “Very well then… a counteroffer, my lord. The crown cannot fully pay your price, so we offer a royal marriage and a fourth of the sum owed to you,” Aemond said, assessing the father's reaction as he mulled over the proposition. “I shall need time to reach a decision,” Lord Tyrell finally spoke after a long pause. “Of course,” Aemond agreed. “For the meantime, you are welcome to the halls of High Garden, Your Highness.”
Aemond waited as your father disappeared from his view before he went on his search for you. He walked through the unfamiliar corridors and found himself being led outside towards the gardens where he wagered you would be. When he saw you seated by a fountain, a smirk curled on his lips. However, it was quick to fade as he had noticed you were not alone. Aemond made furious steps towards you to announce his presence.
You were conversing with another when you felt your skin tingling and the familiarity of a cold gaze upon you. You turned to your side, and your eyes widened as you saw the prince approaching. You blinked slowly, trying to discern if your mind was playing a cruel trick. But when the prince stood an arm’s length away from you, where you could see him clearly, you knew that it was not a trick. “My prince,” You say almost breathlessly, curtsying lowly before the son of the king.
“How… what brings you here, your highness?” You asked, disregarding the earlier presence you were with. “Business for the crown,” He replied, eyeing the man who stood beside you. You turned your eyes toward where the prince placed his gaze intensely. “Oh, my prince, this is Prince Martin Martell,” You introduced, and you felt Martin stepped forward and bowed. “Martell? Are you not a long way from Drone?” Aemond gritted as he let out his hand to shake the prince’s hand. He wanted to smirk as he saw the man’s tanned face twist into a wince before quickly masking it. “Yes, my prince, I come as a suitor for my lady,” He explained, and Aemond pursed his lips at his words.
You licked your lips as you suddenly felt the fresh air become tense, “Would anyone like some tea?” You suddenly interrupted the intense gazes of the two princes, walking in between them as you made your way toward a nearby table that had the afternoon’s refreshments. Aemond tapped his finger on the table, his eye shifting between you and your intended whilst you poured tea into everyone’s cup. “If I may ask, what business warrants your presence here, Prince Aemond?” Prince Martin inquired, and Aemond reluctantly shifted his attention from you, who was licking sugar from your fingers.
“A proposal for House Tyrell,” he said bluntly, swallowing thickly as your lips parted at the mention of your house. “What proposal, if I may ask,” Your turn to inquire. Aemond licked his lips and debated if he should give you the true manner of his visit. “A proposal for you, my lady, to be a princess of Westeros.” You feel dazed by his words, your body freezing in shock, and you seem to forget how to breathe.
Aemond looked at you expectantly, trying to search for any reaction in your eyes other than the pronounced shock. You were saved from his expectation of a reply when you heard your father calling for you. “I— excuse me, my princes,” You say in a haste and hurriedly went to your father’s call.
“What is happening— the prince just informed me of his proposal— in front of Prince Martell!” You panicked, recalling the scene to your father with wide eyes. You watched as your father paused his lips, an aggravated sigh leaving his nose. “Bold of him to inform you of such proposals when I had not even given him my reply.” You shook your head and warily turned to the gardens, where you saw two princes seated by a distance.
“Where did this proposal come from? I… I do not understand,” You whispered, recalling your days in the Red Keep; the moments with the prince that you tried to sell to yourself were meaningless to him. However, you supposed you sold yourself with a lie because those moments were enough for him to ask for your hand. Hope was dangerously blooming in your heart, emotions, and festering feelings you tried hard not to succumb to for the past days, now inevitable.
“The proposal comes because the crown cannot pay the debt due to us… instead, they are offering a marriage between you and the prince and a fourth of the sum owed,” The hope that was dangerously blooming and had rooted itself in your heart quickly wilted, willing yourself not to show disappointment on your face. “Oh,” Was all you could utter. “What is your decision then?” You asked quietly as your father guided you further into the walls of your home.
“Your courtship with Prince Martell has been settled for three years since your sixteenth name day, but no formal betrothals are in place, and we are in no obligation to the Martells,” Your father stated as you two walked along the corridors. “But Sunspear is a long way from here,” Your father added, “And though Kingslanding is closer, and if I were being honest, I would prefer you to be a princess of the whole of the seven kingdoms rather than just Dorne,” You twirled with your hair as you listening into your father’s musing. “But this marriage is just a way out of their hefty debt,” You nodded along and waited for your father to decide.
“So? Which one of them?” You asked as you needed an answer, your nerves growing unbearable. Your father took in a deep breath, “I shall leave that decision to you… it is you who shall marry one of them; the money is not truly that much of a concern— it was simply a bargaining tool for the crown to remember how indebted they were to us,” Your father explained, and your lips parted as you were given a daunting task.
“Can I speak with Prince Aemond for a moment? I… it is— I need to speak with him,” you say, and your father gives the nod, “I shall have him meet you in the drawing room,” You waited nervously for the prince, your mind running as to what to say to him. You stood when the prince entered the room, your lips parting, ready to speak something you were uncertain of, but Prince Aemond spoke first.
“I know this is quite abrupt,” Aemond spoke and dared to step close to you, trying not to grow distracted by your mere ethereal presence. “It is my prince,” You agreed. “Could I just ask why?” Aemond frowned at your words; it was quite a straightforward proposal. “The crown owes your house,” He said matter of factly, “I know, but we ask for coins or land but not a marriage,” Aemond licked his lips, “And I am aware that the marriage is a substitute. However, you would understand that no one would be that inclined to accept a proposal just because the one giving the proposal is in debt.”
“Is this a rejection?” Aemond took another step, closing most of the gap between you. He was aware that he was scowling severely, scarily even, but you did not seem to be frightened, a first for anyone he had encountered. “More of a question,” Aemond’s brows raised at your words. “Well, it’s clear that this proposal is just an obligation for you, and if I am being honest… I prefer someone who would not see a mere business dealing.”
“All marriages are business dealings,” You pursed your lips at the prince’s words. “I supposed they are… but not every marriage is just a business dealing.” Aemond licked his lips, and the both of you were enveloped in silence. “I guess what I’m saying is… I would not feel inclined to choose someone who proposes because it is their obligation,” You say slowly, surprised that you managed to come across your answer. If it were any other situation where the crown was not indebted to your house, you would accept the proposal eagerly, but your heart idealistic heart yearned for someone who wanted you truly and did not see you as a mere opportunity.
“My lady, I think you have gotten the wrong idea here,” You furrowed your brows as all were clear to you. The proposal was just an obligation… isn’t it? “No one forced me into this proposal; the queen could not find a solution. This marriage had not even crossed her mind— I…” Aemond passed as you waited on bated breath for his explanation. “I have offered the marriage not because of duty or a way for the crown to escape their debt but because… I— I want you. I want you to be my wife.”
You looked at him with clear apprehension, and Aemond actually believed that you would flash him your sweet smile— perhaps a blush on your cheeks as he had said words so unlike him. “You want me?” You asked incredulously, and Aemond nodded, boldly taking your hands into his. “But why? We barely know each other?” You asked. Frowning as your eyes go downwards toward your hands clasped with the prince’s cold ones. “Why?” Aemond asked in disbelief you would ask such a question? You nodded.
“Because I just do,” Aemond licked his lips as it would appear that that was the wrong answer, watching as you stole away your hand and your lips turned into an adorable pout he was very much tempted to kiss. “I— Because you are pretty, overly pretty,” Aemond spoke and hoped that would sway your mind, but that seemed even to offend you. “And because you are knowledgeable, I have never met anyone who had the same philosophical interests as me,” Aemond quickly added, and he wanted to smile as that lessened your frown.
“And most of all, because you are kind. You are… you are not one to judge— you came to Kingslanding without any criticism or fear of me. You actually saw me as an actual person and not…” Aemond trailed as he felt a sense of relief as he said the words he thought none could ever compel him to do so. “Not like a weapon?” You almost laughed as you often heard others allude to him as such. Aemond nodded and took your hands into his once more.
“You want me because I was kind and took an interest in you?” You asked, making certain that was his reasoning. Aemond nodded and dared to tuck a stray hair that obstructed his view of your face. “If that is all that it took, what if then another comes along and presents you with such kindness and interest… am I simply to be set to the side?” Aemond sighed and cupped your cheek as he felt his stomach twist at your words and at the look of doubt in your enchanting eyes. “What if—“ You were ready to voice out another doubting scenario, but your lips were kissed shut.
You feel heat bloom into your cheeks, and you are stunned as you feel the prince’s thin and cool lips upon yours. Your eyes were wide at the sudden contact, but they fluttered to a close as you savored the feel and taste of him. “I do not know what more to say to quench the doubts in you… but you must know, I have never felt such a way— I have never wanted anyone or anything as much as I want you.” Aemond whispered against your lips as you breathed heavily, your body feeling afloat and alight.
“The situation is not the most favorable one; believe me, I understand your qualms— but it is the only opportunity I had to make you mine,” You feel liquid fill your stomach, and words cannot find you. The only thing you could do was go to the tip of your toes and kiss the prince’s lips once more, a chaste kiss than the first, but it was a kiss that gave the prince his answer.
Three moons passed before your nuptials were settled. You stood by the door of the great hall, waiting for it to open and lead you to your soon-to-be husband. “Are you certain?” Your father asked as he clasped his arms with yours. You breathed out a laugh and nodded your head eagerly. “I am,” You said with a smile and took a deep breath as you heard the trumpets from the other side of the door.
Aemond sighed longingly as he saw the smile on your lips again. The smile that he had never been the receiver of before. The sweet and kind smile that led to all of this.
You beamed at your groom as he took your hand into yours, unable to remove your gaze from his unique lilac eye throughout the whole of the ceremony. “I am his, and he is mine,” You recited after the Maester, feeling Aemond lightly squeeze your hand as you said the words, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. When it was Aemond’s turn, you bit your lip as you felt your smile grow wider, your heart beating loudly in your chest, and delight taking hold of your whole body. “I am hers, and she is mine,” Aemond stated, eye filled with sincerity and promise.
You breathed in a deep breath as your husband stepped forward to seal your marriage with a kiss, your cheeks burning as you heard the cheers of your guests. “My flower,” Aemond whispered against your lips as you parted, his finger brushing away the stubborn lock of your hair once more. You could only smile upon him, your heart in your eyes— just one act of kindness, a simple smile had been the catalyst for you to find your love.
You chewed on your cheek in anticipation as you were being led down the halls by your husband, the bedding ceremony promptly taking place after the feast.
Aemond spared no second before claiming your soft, sweet lips once more. Gently pushing you upon a pillar in his chambers to keep you steady and flush against his body. “Aemond,” You called as you clung to his neck, his lips trailing downwards and his fingers undoing the laces of your gown. “You’re all mine, my flower… forever bound to me, my kind little wife.” Aemond hummed as he tasted your skin, his lips kissing your bare shoulders, the sleeves of your dress draping off. “I’m yours, my prince,” You sighed, but you felt slight dread in your stomach as he clicked his tongue in disapproval and slowly shook his head. “I am your husband… you must learn to call me by my name; no more titles and formalities,” Aemond lowly said, wanting to hear his name be uttered from your lips.
You nodded, “I’m all yours, Aemond,” You said and whimpered as your husband’s eye darkened, and he forcefully slammed your lips. You feel your dress pool to the floor as he successfully removes it; he takes hold of one of your thighs and makes you cling to him, leading you to your shared bed. Aemond gently laid you down and parted your lips to admire the view of you sprawled before him. The thin sheet of your shift reveals all to him.
You gasped in utter shock as you felt him tear away the thin cover you had, fully exposing you to him. A strained moan left your throat as Aemond dipped down and took one of your tits into the hot cavern of his mouth, his tongue teasing the bud. You clung to his silvery locks; just that action alone made your core tighten painfully. Aemond smirked as he moved to pay attention to the neglected mound, your hips grinding upon his as you sought friction.
“Aemond, I…” You called, uncertain of what you wanted, but all you knew was that you needed more. “Yes, wife?” He hummed and placed open-mouth kisses upon your stomach. “I… I—“ You stuttered, not knowing what to ask. Aemond sighed and moved his head to kiss your lips, “Do you want more… do you want to be pleasure, my flower?” He asked, as he could not be so cruel to leave you in such a state for much longer. You eagerly nodded your head.
It did not take long for you to be a moaning mess, your eyes rolled back in your head, and your back arched as Aemond placed his mouth upon your cunny. Licking and teasing your folds, “Aemond! Oh, gods!” You called in utter pleasure as you felt his thin lips enclose your sensitive bud, sucking and licking it. You battled with your mind-numbing pleasure as you propped yourself on your elbows to watch his actions. He looked up at you, grinning as his fingers teased your undefiled whole. You bit your lip and breathed heavily, boldly taking hold of the leather strap of his eye patch. You saw as his eye darkened, and you hesitated, but Aemond gave a nod.
As you removed his eye patch, Aemond pressed his finger into you, your eyes rolling back as you saw his sapphire eye. Aemond returned his lips to your cunt, sucking on the bud as his fingers pumped in and out. He felt your walls clench around the digits and your moans growing louder. Through your closed eyes, you feel him smirk against your skin and curl the digits inside your cunt— a loud moan leaving your lips as you come undone. Your hips violently move against his face, and the pearl of your cunt hitting gains his angular nose.
“Oh gods,” You say breathlessly as you feel Aemond’s weight atop of you. You undid the laces of his vest as he removed his trousers. You looked downwards and saw the whole of your husband, his warm, pulsating length resting upon your thigh. The head of his cock weeping a clear liquid. “W… will it fit?” You say in disbelief, never having thought that something so phallic could be so… large and appealing. “Of course, you were made for me, my flower.” Aemond lowly said and kissed your lips as he aligned himself with your cunt.
You dug your nails onto his shoulders as he slowly tore his way through you. Him hushing your cries of pain and kissing away your tears. “It hurts— Aemond, I… it’s too much,” You cried, your legs wrapping around his waist. Aemond reached downwards and drew circles upon your cunt to aid your pain. You waited for the pain to bleed into pleasure. Aemond tightly shit his eye as he felt the tip of his cock brush against a rough spot in your cunt, him fully sheathed inside you. He made cautious thrusts, watching as you would acclimatize to his length, and when he saw your eyes roll back, that was his sign to fasten his pace.
Aemond’s found your lips once more, muffling your moans and whimpers as his cock was relentlessly hitting the spongy spot in your cunt that made your core come undone over and over again. You were on the verge of your fourth climax, each of them coming quickly after the other, and your thighs started to shiver at the pleasure that had enveloped you fully. “Aemond… It’s too much. I— husband, I cannot,” You cried as you felt a different sensation, an odd pressure in your core unalike the other times you came. Aemond clenched his jaw as his cock twitched inside your cunt, “Just… come for me one more time, my flower,” He gritted as he wanted to coax another peak from you.
Aemond laid his thumb flat against your nubbin and rubbed circles once more, your voice already hoarse from your loud moans. “Oh… Aemond!” You cried as the quivering of your thighs grew, and you felt the pressure in your core come undone; a differing climax from the first three overcame you. Aemond groaned loudly and tilted his head back as he spilled his seed deep in your cunt. You breathed heavily as you tried to comprehend what had happened, wetness pooling between your thighs, and an embarrassed blush spread through your cheeks and neck.
Aemond smirked and shook his head, trying to soothe the mortification in your eyes. “I knew you were capable of it,” He hummed and kissed your lips. He knew it was perhaps too much to test your limits in your first night together, but he could not help himself; he needed to have you in such a way. “My perfect wife,” he hummed against your skin, and your reply came through your tired smile.
#aemond fanfiction#house of the dragon#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#hotd aemond#aemond modern au#prince aemond#aemond x tyrell reader#prince aemond x reader#prince aemond fic#prince aemond targaryen#prince aemond x you#hotd fandom#aemond targaryen smut#aemond smut#house tyrell#hotd smut#hotd fanfic#hotd fic#house of the dragon fanfic#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen x reader
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Just Friends
Thank you @brittmb115 for this prompt!
Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader
Summary: Accompanying your friend Javier to his holiday work party seemed simple enough until it gets a little too hard to just pretend to be dating.
Warnings: language, fake dating, one bed trope, sexual tension, jealousy, flirting, cigarette use, alcohol use, friends to lovers, reader has insecurities about her looks, fingering, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex
WC: 6.4K
dividers by @saradika-graphics
"Please, cariño, it's just one night. The party's at a casino about two hours outside the city. The DEA paid for hotel rooms 'cause they're worried about people drinking and driving. We'll be back by noon on Saturday, you'll still have your whole weekend to mope around over Travis," Javi begged as he followed you around your kitchen.
"Trent," you corrected with a glare over your shoulder. Javi just waved you off.
"Yeah, whatever. His name doesn't matter anymore, now does it?" he countered with an arched brow. You frowned and continued to put your dishes away.
Javier was right - Trent's name didn't matter anymore. Not after he dumped you out of the blue, two weeks before Christmas. He probably didn't want to buy you a gift, Javier had said when you called him up crying. It wasn't exactly the most comforting thing to hear, but at least he made you laugh.
"And why is it you don't want to attend this event by yourself? I thought you would have wanted to take some poor secretary back to your room for the evening," you said, flipping the dishwasher closed before playfully adding, "This better not be some sick move to try to get into my pants again." Javi pulled out his carton of cigarettes and began to anxiously tap it against his palm. When you whisked by, you smacked it out of his hand with a warning: do not smoke in my house.
"You've made it very clear I won't be touching your pants, hermosa," he chuckled, recalling a handful of failed attempts to get you into bed before giving up entirely. "But, uh, I've been taking one too many secretaries home lately," Javi admitted with a lopsided grin. "Got one real pissed at me for not calling her back. Had to make up a lie that I had gotten back together with an ex, so..."
Your jaw dropped and you stared daggers at him with your hands on your hips.
"So not only are you asking me to go with you to this party, but I'm supposed to pretend we're dating?" you clarified, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. When he nodded sheepishly, you tossed your hands in the hair and began to curse under your breath.
"Oh, come on! It won't be that bad! It's not like she's gonna say anything. It's just for looks. Hell, you never know. Maybe you'll meet someone at this thing. I could be doing you the favor of a lifetime," he said before hopping up to sit on your kitchen island. You smacked his knee when you walked past and he grinned.
"I have barstools, you know."
"Yeah, but I like it up here. Better view," he winked and jutted his chin towards your v-neck shirt.
"Gross," you scowled, making him laugh. He took a handful of nuts from the bowl on your counter and shook them in his hand like dice.
"So? What's it gonna be? You in?"
You watched him tip his head back, pouring some peanuts in his mouth, and you sighed. What the hell. You didn't have anything better to do.
"Fine."
Javier jumped off the counter excitedly. "Thank you! I owe you one!" he exclaimed before heading for your door. "I gotta run. I'll pick you up around noon on Friday. And, hey - bring a dress. The party is a little formal."
You rolled your eyes and groaned, then shooed him out your door. "Thanks. Now I have to figure out a damn outfit."
"You're the best!" he shouted happily from his car. You shut your door and turned around to sag against the wood, finally surrounded with silence. Something you thought you were craving until you had it, and then suddenly you realized you had never felt more alone in your life.
"Where the hell is this place?" you asked, staring out the passenger seat of Javier's jeep. It felt like the car kept climbing higher and higher, and the way your ears were popping, you were thinking your hunch was right.
"It's a hotel slash casino up in the hills," he said with a nod towards the open, winding road. "Supposed to have a hell of a view."
"Yeah, guess so," you muttered, then gasped when a clearing came into view and you saw just how high up you really were. "Oh, my god! Javi - look!"
"I'm driving, cariño," he reminded you with a smirk, but his eyes still flickered quickly over the ridge.
"Wow," you said breathlessly. The view was spectacular. Miles and miles of hills and trees surrounded a sprawling hotel/casino. If you were closer to the edge, you would be able to see a lazy river snaking around the bottom of the mountain.
"Alright. So what's the story?" you asked when you settled back in your seat. There was still a ways to go until you reached the casino, but you could see it from the road nestled into the landscape.
"What story?"
"Our story," you said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You told a girl you got back together with an ex. So, why did we originally break up?"
"Oh," Javi said, scratching his chin. "I don't know. You really think it matters?"
"Maybe. Who knows? Probably a good idea we at least talk about it," you shrugged.
Javi thought about it for a minute before snapping his fingers. "You wanted marriage and I didn't."
You made a face and shook your head.
"That would imply we're on the path to getting engaged. You really think you can fake a whole marriage because you pissed off a girl at work?"
"Yeah, good point," he mumbled before falling quiet to think about it some more. After a few minutes, he came up with another idea. "How about you were gonna move away for a job and we didn't want to do long distance, but the job fell through and you stayed?"
You nodded slowly, rolling the idea around in your head.
"Yeah, that's good. That'll work. Then one day to explain why you're single again, you can say I got another job offer out of state or something."
"Exactly."
"Alright. Easy enough," you hummed, then turned to gaze out your window again. Javi watched you for a few minutes out of the corner of his eye, his jaw working back and forth while he tried to come up with the right words to express his gratitude.
"Hey, uh," he said, clearing his throat. You turned to look at him expectantly. "I just wanna thank you again. I know you're going through a tough time and all that-"
"Don't mention it," you said dismissively. "It's not a big deal. Plenty of guys out there, right?"
Javi gave you a tight smile. "Yeah. Sure."
One thing that you didn't have a chance to fully think through was the sleeping situation. As Javi checked you in and you heard the girl at the front desk confirm one king sized bed, you felt yourself stiffen. He signed and grabbed the keys, then shot you a warm smile before gesturing towards the elevators. From the looks of it, Javier didn't mind one bit. Then, of course, it was Javier...
"No funny business," you declared when you entered your room and Javier flopped down tiredly on the huge bed. "You stick to your side, I'll stick to mine."
"Whatever you say, cariño," he replied with his eyes closed. "I'll be reminding you of that later tonight when you're all over me after a few drinks."
"That was one time and I told you I was sorry!" you exclaimed, cheeks burning from the memory.
Your relationship in the past with Javier was... complicated. When you first met, it felt like you kept seeking each other out at all the worst times. Whenever you made a move, he was unavailable, and vice versa. Eventually, you had decided to just be friends and left it at that. And it worked well. You had an easy relationship where it felt effortless and natural to go to the other with some exciting news, and sought a shoulder to cry on if something bad happened. It just seemed to work better without the romantic element.
All of that aside, at the crux of the issue was you were a romantic, through and through. You liked being in long term relationships. You enjoyed the comfort and peace it brought. Javier, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. You couldn't even remember the last time he brought the same girl out for drinks more than once and you had a suspicion he had never been in love.
"I'm just messing with you. Can't help it, I like when you're all flustered," Javi said before sitting up with a groan. When he stretched, you found your eyes drifting down to where his shirt rode up, revealing a small sliver of bronzed skin. You swallowed and forced yourself to look away because no matter how many times you reminded yourself it would never work between you, it didn't stop you from being unbearably attracted to him.
It was the confidence that he exuded. That was what you had finally decided was the thing that kept you drawn to him in a decidedly less-than-friendly way. But of course, you were quick to remember you weren't the only one who was attracted to his charm. Half the women in the city noticed it, too. You had just gotten very good at hiding it.
"What time's the party start?" you asked, hauling your duffel bag onto the bed so you could begin to unpack your toiletries. The first thing you did was take out the dark red slinky dress you bought so you could steam out the wrinkles with the iron packed away in the coat closet. What you didn't notice was the way Javier's eyes greedily locked onto the fabric while you moved around the room.
"Uh..." he murmured, his pulse quickening when he saw the plunging neckline of your dress. "That new?"
You furrowed your brow and turned around. "Yeah. I didn't exactly have anything suitable so I went shopping. Why? You don't like it?"
"No, no... it's perfect," he assured you. Javier blinked a few times, snapping himself out of it, and looked at you. "Very... festive."
You grinned and hung up the dress on the back of the bathroom door. "Thanks. I thought so, too. So... the party? What time?"
"Oh, right. Cocktail hour starts at five, dinner's at seven then dancing or whatever til who knows when."
You glanced at your watch and made a face after you did a quick pass with the iron.
"I better get in the shower, then," you said, grabbing your things. Javier leaned back onto the headboard and flicked on the television with the ease of a man who didn't intend on putting in much work on his appearance for evening. However, once you finished your hair and makeup and stepped out of the bathroom in that damn dress, he suddenly felt like he should have tried a little harder.
"Maybe I should put something in my hair," he muttered, his fingers flicking through the dark locks as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. You appeared in the doorway of the bathroom looking way too fucking attractive to be his date, let alone masquerading as his girlfriend. Your brows pinched together as you looked at his hair and it took every last ounce of willpower not to let his eyes fall to your cleavage in that tight dress.
"I think your hair looks good," you said. When you reached up to fix a stray piece of his hair, he cleared his throat and twisted away.
"Alright, let's get this thing over with," he mumbled as he slid past you and headed towards the door.
"What's got you so grumpy?"
"Nothing. Just need a drink and a smoke."
"You're gonna abandon me with a bunch of DEA agents to go smoke for ten minutes?" you whined, following him out of your hotel room towards the elevators.
"You could always join me. You'd look like Bette Davis smoking a cigarette and wearing that dress," he replied when you both stepped inside the elevator. He tapped the lobby button and grinned down at you.
"You and Bette Davis," you laughed, rolling your eyes.
"What? She made smoking look so damn cool."
"Yeah, well, I think I'm going to pass," you told him. "I'll get a drink and mingle. Maybe find one of the girls you pissed off and have a cat fight."
Javi chuckled and shook his head. "That's a long list, baby. Shouldn't be too hard."
When the elevator doors slid open, you could hear the music thumping from the ballroom and laughter echoing off the walls.
"Sounds like they didn't waste any time," you said to Javier.
"Are you kidding? When the government gives you an open bar, you fucking milk it," he replied before taking one step towards the front doors. "You sure you're good for a few?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine," you said, waving him off. He nodded and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. Before he even made it to the door, he slipped one in between his lips.
The ballroom was pretty full already, Javi was right: when government employees have a chance to let loose, they jump at the opportunity. The entire room was decorated in Christmas lights, garland, and at least five different trees. The DJ was cycling through a mix of Christmas carols, pop music, and classic rock. Some people already shaking their hips on the dance floor with drinks in their hands. You spotted two different bars set up, so you made your way to the nearest one and ordered a white wine. As you waited, you bopped your head along to the beat of Last Christmas while mindlessly scrolling on your phone.
"Jack Daniels, neat," a man's deep voice said from beside you when the bartender placed your wine glass on a coaster. You thanked him and slid a few dollars across the bar before taking a sip.
"Excuse me... have we met?"
You turned to look at your neighbor and slowly shook your head. He was cute. Blonde hair parted to one side, mustache, lean but strong physique and sparkling blue eyes.
"No, we haven't," you said before offering your hand and name.
"Steve," he grinned, giving your hand a firm shake before accepting his drink with a nod and a couple bucks in the tip jar. "What department do you work in?"
"Oh, I don't work for the DEA, I'm here with someone," you said, leaning closer. You watched his face fall when you implied you weren't single and you pursed your lips. How the hell would Javi expect you to meet anyone when you had to pretend to be his girlfriend?
"I mean, just a friend. A good friend," you added, praying you didn't blow Javi's cover the first time you opened your mouth. "Uh, what do you do?"
"I'm an agent," he told you, chest puffing with pride. "Takin' down drug rings one scumbag at a time."
"Wow. That's so impressive," you gushed. You saw the way his cheeks flushed a bit and preened when he glanced down at your chest. "That must be so hard. What's your favorite part about the job?"
"Goin' to the Christmas party and meeting beautiful women like you," he shot back smoothly, making you giggle and toss your hair flirtatiously over your shoulder. Steve's gaze dragged up and down your dress appreciatively before adding, "I mean it. You look stunning. Should've known someone like you didn't work for the DEA."
"Oh, stop," you giggled, feeling your face warm from his compliment.
"Where are you sitting? Maybe I can convince you to dance after dinner? Now fair warning, I got two left feet, but I got a feeling no one's gonna be lookin' at me," Steve grinned, taking a step closer and grazing his thumb along your bare arm.
"Hmm, that sounds-"
"Murphy."
You both twisted around to find Javier storming across the room. And storming was really the only word for it. His fists were clenched and his jaw pulled tight like he was about to take a swing at Steve.
"Javi," you greeted him sweetly with a smile. At the same time, Steve said, "Peña."
"What's going on here?" he asked, sidling up so he could wedge himself between you and Steve.
"Nothing. Steve and I were just talking," you said innocently.
"Looked like more than that," Javier huffed. His tone and the serious look on his face made you falter. Did you do something wrong?
"Well-"
"I was just asking her for a dance after dinner. Relax, Jav," Steve joked with a playful punch to his shoulder. When Javi remained stoic and unmoving at your side, the smile slowly slipped from Steve's face.
"Oh, shit. Sorry. I thought you were just friends."
"We are," you said quickly, but Steve was already backing away.
"Enjoy your night! It was lovely to meet you," Steve said with a wink before disappearing into the crowd. You swiveled on your heel to glare at Javi.
"Why didn't you correct him?" you seethed.
Javi just shrugged, his relaxed demeanor slipping back in place, and leaned up against the bar to flag down a bartender. "You can do better than Steve."
"Who are you to say?" you argued back after he ordered a whiskey. "We were clicking! And he's cute, why-"
"'Cause I don't want you fucking my partner, hermosa, that's why," Javi snapped. Your eyes widened and you clamped your mouth shut for a moment.
"He's your partner? Why didn't you ever introduce us before? He's-"
"C'mon, let's go find the appetizers or something," he said after snatching his glass from the bar top. It was very evident you wouldn't be getting any more information out of Javier so you decided to drop the subject. But as the happy hour inched along with your third drink in your hand and Javi's arm finding a permanent home around your waist as he introduced you to his coworkers, your mind kept drifting back to that hardened look he had given you and Steve. The butterflies in your stomach churned to life every time you thought about it, your memory twisting things so you could pretend he was jealous over you flirting with another man. It wasn't that hard to imagine, really. He could hardly keep himself from touching either your waist or lower back or grabbing your hand. It fed the little fantasy in your head, deluding yourself into thinking he was subtly trying to claim you in front of the whole party, warning others to stay away.
You had given up reminding yourself that the fake relationship schtick was just an act by the end of dinner. It was too nice to pretend otherwise.
Javi had been wrapped up in a long winded conversation with the man seated on the other side of him, but your heart was fluttering the whole time because from the moment he set his silverware down, his hand hadn't once left your leg.
With a dreamy smile plastered across your face, your eyes casually drifted around the room. People were already beginning to dance but many still remained at their dinner tables chatting. You had been quietly admiring the artwork on the walls and sipping from your glass when you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It was hard to explain, but you just felt like someone was staring at you. Doing your best to be subtle, you shifted in your seat and let your gaze wander around the room again until you found the source.
There was a table to your left, half of which was empty, but five young women remained staring in your direction. Some had drinks dangling from their fingers, one had a scowl and another was leaning in to whisper something in her ear.
There was no question one of the girls must have been one of Javi's scorned lovers. If not all of them. Your heart sunk a little when you saw how beautiful they were and you forced yourself to look away.
Javier was handsome, he had charm, and he was funny. A lethal combination that managed to get him in bed with some extremely drop dead gorgeous women. It was then you felt your insecurities flare up. How could anyone buy you were a couple when he was used to having girls like that on his arm?
With Javier still talking, you stood up from your chair, suddenly feeling flustered and overwhelmed.
He stopped speaking mid sentence to look up and ask, "Where are you going?"
"Uh," you glanced around and swallowed nervously. "I think I just need some fresh air. I'll be right back."
"I'll go with you," he said, immediately standing. "I'll catch up with you later, Jim," Javi added over his shoulder before hurrying to catch up with you. When his palm pressed against your back, your feet automatically slowed.
"What's going on? Drink too much?"
"No. Well, maybe. I don't know," you rambled, eyes scanning for the exit. "I just feel like I don't fit in here."
"What? Why?" he asked, grabbing your arm and spinning you around. His face was filled with concern as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "You're doing great, cariño. I thought you were having fun."
"I was. I am," you stammered, and then your gaze landed on the table of girls, most of which had moved on to something else.
Before you could tear your eyes away, Javier noticed where you were looking and sighed.
"Yeah, sorry. I told you, I pissed off a woman or two here."
"It's not that," you mumbled, now staring down at the floor.
"Then what is it?"
You felt your cheeks flush and you couldn't look him in the eye when you finally admitted, "They're really pretty, Javi."
He just scoffed and took your hand in his.
"You're prettier."
You laughed lightly and shook your head. "Yeah, right. It's a good thing there's an open bar. Otherwise, I'm not sure people would believe we're together when you're usually seen with girls like that."
"Hey," Javi said softly. He hooked a finger under your chin and tilted it up so you would look at him. "Don't say that. You look better than anyone else here. If you weren't already, I'd be trying to get you up to my room right now," he said with a smirk. You giggled a little and sighed.
"Sorry. I guess I just had a moment or something," you said, breathing deep. Javi looked around the room and noticed how the dance floor was beginning to fill up.
"Wanna dance?"
You smiled and pulled your lower lip between your teeth as you watched others having fun on the dance floor. Without waiting for your answer, Javi tugged your hand and tilted his head, urging you to follow him. "C'mon, don't leave me hanging."
You laughed and let him lead you to the dance floor, weaving through the throngs of people until he found a little wiggle room, but right when he turned back to look at you with a big, goofy smile, the fast tempo switched to a much slower ballad. Javi cocked an eyebrow at you and extended a hand, unphased.
With a smile of your own, you took his hand and let him pull you in close. His fingers laced together with yours while his other arm wrapped around your middle and your free hand came to rest on his shoulder.
"Hey, you can dance," he teased when you fell into rhythm with him effortlessly.
"Of course I can dance," you said, rolling your eyes. Being that close to him, you could smell his aftershave, the whiskey on his breath, and a faint hint of cigarette smoke from earlier. The smell you had unknowingly grown to love. The smell that was, simply put, Javier.
You gazed up at him, smiling at the little pink tinting his cheeks and the glassy look in his eye. He looked so fucking adorable it almost pained you.
"Can I ask you something, Javi?" you asked quietly. His eyes softened at your tone and he nodded. "Why were you so mad earlier when I was talking to Steve? Really?"
The corner of his mouth twitched and his eyes flickered somewhere behind you as he considered his answer.
"I think you know why."
When he looked back down at you, the playfulness was gone. His eyes carried something else in them. Something he couldn't bring himself to say. Then your heart skipped a beat and your breath caught in your throat when you saw it. The look you had been aching to see from him for years. The same look you were giving him at the very same time.
And then it hit you. Yeah, you knew why.
It turned out Javier was much more popular at work than you ever expected. You had spent the rest of your dance trying to come up with the right thing to say, but you panicked and lost your chance when Javier's boss nudged his shoulder while dancing with his wife. The four of you fell into a conversation - the men about work, you and his boss's wife about Christmas bargains - in the middle of the dance floor. When you realized you were in the way, the conversation moved to the bar. After that, an investigator joined in the conversation with her girlfriend and before you knew it, it was nearly midnight and the moment you had with Javi on the dance floor was long forgotten.
Or so you thought.
It had been a long night. You were exhausted and your feet ached from the new shoes you picked out to match your dress. You had hoped to possibly find an opening and talk to Javi about what you thought he implied during your dance, but while you were waiting for him to wash up, you passed out cold.
One thing you knew for certain was you were on your side of the bed when you fell asleep. You knew that because your side faced the bathroom and you had rolled over to wait for Javi before you fell asleep. However, you couldn't explain why you woke up around three in the morning with your cheek resting on his shoulder and your arm wrapped around his waist.
Well, maybe you could explain it. It was probably your subconscious trying to seek him out after spending the evening being so close to him. No matter the reason, you knew you had to sneak back to your side of the bed before he woke up, so you slowly began to extract your arm.
"Where're you goin'?" Javi murmured sleepily. Your eyes widened and your heart began to race.
"Nowhere, just go back to sleep," you whispered, pulling your arm away. Just as you were about to roll over, Javi's hand shot out to grab your wrist. You froze, cheek still pressed against his shoulder, and slowly lifted your eyes up to meet his.
It was hard to see in the dark, but from what you could tell, he was wide awake. His dark brown eyes continued to study your face while you fumbled for words.
"Javi?" you said, voice sounding so small in the quiet room. His eyes flickered anxiously between yours for another moment before he came to his decision. In one quick movement, he had rolled you onto your back, his hips fitting perfectly between your legs as he caged you in.
"Javi," you said again, although this time sounding far more breathless and aroused than you intended.
He swallowed tightly, gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips before he whispered, "Do you feel it too, cariño?"
You shifted underneath him, eyelids fluttering when you felt his arousal pressing up against the inside of your thigh.
"Yes," you whispered back.
His mouth crashed against yours in an instant. It was rougher than you expected it to be but you didn't mind. You understood because you felt it, too. All that time wasted, dancing around something that was right in front of you the entire time. It was bound to drive anyone a little crazy, a little hungry.
Before you knew it, your fingers were in his hair, dragging down his shoulders, and then tugging at his shirt, and all the while his mouth remained cemented against yours. He had to pull away to yank his white tshirt over his head and you heard yourself make a pathetic little noise, like you couldn't possibly survive without his kiss, not even for one second.
"Take this off," he panted, lifting your oversized shirt halfway up your torso. You didn't need to be told twice. You flung it off and pulled Javier back down before he even had a chance to take a good look at your bare chest.
Everything was moving so fast but given the amount of time it took you to get there, it felt like a fucking eternity. He expertly tugged your shorts and underwear off while your tongues fought for dominance in each other's mouths. It wasn't even until you felt his fingers brush against your cunt that you realized you were entirely undressed.
"Oh, god... Javi!" you cried out brokenly when he slipped two fingers inside of you.
His mouth fell to your chin and he made a strangled sound, curling his fingers when he said, "Fuck, baby, when you say my name like that..."
His hand maintained a steady rhythm between your legs, reaching for that spot that made your back curl off the bed every time he thrusted inside. His other hand got lost in your hair, tipping your face so he could feverishly lock his lips with yours while dragging your first orgasm to the surface with a few circles over your sensitive clit.
"Javi! Wait... I'm gonna - I'm gonna come -" you gasped, unable to stop your hips from rolling up and meeting his hand.
"Go ahead, hermosa. I got you."
"No," you whimpered, muscles going tense. You were getting to the point of no return and you needed to stop him. "I wanna - I want you to fuck me, Javi. I - I wanna -"
Your head fell back into the pillow, unable to complete your sentence.
"I am. I'm gonna fuck you," he assured you, lips ghosting the shell of your ear and wrist snapping faster between your thighs. "I'll make you come on my cock, don't worry, baby. Just let go, c'mon, you can do that for me, right?"
"Oh, fuck," you gasped, eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck, fuck, fu- yes, Javi, yes! More... please-"
"Christ, cariño, you're gonna wake the whole fucking hotel," he chuckled, but you were too far gone to care. You tilted your chin to the ceiling, his name echoing off the walls as you came. It felt like your heart was going to beat right out of your chest, like your legs were so weak you may never walk again, yet somehow it wasn't enough. Not for either of you. In fact, it only seemed to make you each more desperate.
Your kisses on his skin became messy, both of you so eager to have the other that there was no room to worry about being too fast or abrasive. Your teeth clashed together when your arm curved around his neck, yanking him down to your level. Your shared hot breaths mingled with each pant and gasp. When you reached down to wrap your fingers around the heavy weight of his cock, he moaned into your open mouth and slid his fingers from your pussy so you could line him up with your entrance, neither of you in any mood to wait a second longer.
"Fu-uck," he groaned when he pushed inside of you, burying himself to the hilt in one go. You gasped and sharply bit down on his shoulder when tears sprung up and threatened to spill down your cheeks.
"You okay?" he panted, planting weak kisses against the side of your face. All you could do was nod. He filled you and stretched you so perfectly that it took your breath away and left you speechless. He nodded, too, lips parted as he puffed for air, then began to rock his hips. Slow at first, then steady and deep.
"Javi," you moaned in his ear, sending a shiver through his body. "Shit, just like that. Oh my god, Javi, just like that!"
Javier smirked into your shoulder, fucking you with deep, long strokes as you continued to fill the room with your cries and moans.
"Never thought you'd be so goddamn loud, baby," he teased, nipping playfully at your shoulder.
"Sorry," you whined into the air. Your jaw was clenched tight, fingers clawing uselessly at his broad shoulders while he continued to pump in and out a little bit harder, a little bit faster, setting loose one of the tears that welled up in your eyes.
"Don't be sorry, I fucking love it," he groaned. He lifted himself up so he could watch your face contort with each devastating thrust. "Fucking love how you say my name. Dreamed about it for so long, you have no idea-"
"Me, too," you moaned, a second tear trickling down your cheek. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him tightly as he began to fuck you faster. His eyes flickered down to your bare chest, breasts bouncing from the force of his thrusts. Craning his neck down, he latched onto one with a groan, teeth grazing enticingly over your nipple before sucking the other one into his mouth.
"God, you're so perfect," he mumbled into the space between your breasts. "So fucking perfect, hermosa. Drove me fucking crazy all night."
Your heart stuttered before grabbing the sides of his head and pulling him up for a deep kiss. Every time he slammed inside of you, it had you seeing stars. You felt completely at his mercy, unable to think about anything else except him, him, him.
"Tell me you want more," he demanded, pulling away from your kiss so he could look you in the eye. His eyes were blown wide with lust and a few dark hairs were beginning to stick to his forehead, the image so captivating that he had you nodding dumbly to his request.
"Yes, Javi, please," you moaned, "more, please, fuck me-"
"No, I mean-"
His hips slowed and he cupped your face, chest heaving and lips parted for air as he stared down at you imploringly. "I mean, tell me you want more than just tonight. Tell me there's something else here."
You blinked rapidly and nodded, stunned he would even have to ask when you had always been the one to prefer relationships. Hardly trusting yourself to speak, you whispered, "Yeah. I want more than just tonight. I want more than just this."
A smile stretched across his face right before he lunged down to capture your lips with his own. His hips resumed their pace, snapping steadily into you and pushing you higher and higher until you stiffened and cried out his name.
"Oh, fuck. Oh, shit," he muttered, hips stuttering against you, his name still tumbling from your mouth as the last of your orgasm rippled through your body. "Baby - look at me," he begged, and it wasn't until that moment you realized your eyelids had even shut.
Tiredly, you opened your eyes to gaze up at him. The way he was looking at you caused a lump to form in your throat and you had to suppress a shiver. It was too intense all of the sudden, the air thickening between you in a matter of seconds.
"Come for me, Javi," you murmured lowly. You brought a shaky hand up to card through his damp hair, watching as his eyebrows pinched and his chin dropped, pulling out of you quickly and sitting back on his heels to fist his cock. Your hand fell back to the cool sheets beside you, unable to look away. He was hunched above you, one fist pressed into the mattress and the other jerking himself off until he stilled with a deep groan, painting your stomach with his sticky release. You couldn't even let yourself blink, doing your best to commit every detail to memory until he collapsed next to you with a heavy sigh.
"Fucking Christ," he grumbled, forearm tossed over his eyes. You giggled, face warming when you heard how raspy you sounded. Javier removed his arm and turned his head to look at you with a lopsided grin.
"You're a screamer, hermosa."
"Javi!" you cried out softly, but your broken voice only further proved his argument. He chuckled and rolled onto his side to push some hair away from your eyes.
"I was expecting a phone call from the front desk ten minutes ago."
"Shut up, Javi!" you whined, covering your face with your palms.
"Don't be embarrassed, baby, I love it," he said while pulling your hands away. You bit your lip and peered up at him, searching his face for any sign of regret and finding none. Then his face softened and he swallowed nervously before adding, "I'm in love with you."
He said it so quietly, so sweetly, that it had you wondering if you were hearing things. But then you saw the anxious look in his eye and your pulse skyrocketed.
"Really?" you asked in disbelief. Slowly, he nodded.
"Yeah. I think I've been in love with you for a while," he admitted, tracing an invisible line down your cheek.
You laughed and two fresh tears fell when you said, "I love you, too."
His mouth crashed against yours in relief and you wrapped your arms around his neck, matching smiles pressing together in stunned happiness.
"I'm sorry I wasted so much time and didn't tell you sooner," he murmured while stroking your hair.
"It doesn't matter," you replied, "we have each other now."
Javi smiled and kissed the tip of your nose.
"So, now what?" he asked.
"Now? Now I would really like to take a shower," you said, then grinned when you added, "and maybe in the morning we can do this all over again."
He laughed and rolled to his side so you could get out of bed. When his eyes locked onto your ass as you made your way to the bathroom in the dark, he flung the covers off and leapt out of bed to follow you.
"I think we're gonna need a late check out."
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your brother won't like this - MAX VERSTAPPEN
pairing : max verstappen x norris!reader kinktober day 13 - deepthroating
summary : max can't seem to escape the norris' after that terrible race in Austria. The only difference? Y/n was actually worth Max's time (and stamina)
warnings/notes : story is set during the Austrian grand prix, swearing, drinking, smut, oral (m!receiving), unprotected sex (always use a condom guys!) choking, slight overstimulation, praise kink, degrading kink, name-calling, squirting, creampie, dirty talk
word count : 3.4k
a/n : god i love this trope
main masterlist | kinktober masterlist
After Lando and Max's disappointing crash in Austria, Max was fuming as he stormed into the hotel bar near the pool, his 5th-place finish feeling like a bitter defeat. As he approached the bar, he collided with someone, spilling his drink.
"Watch where you're going!" Max snapped, glaring at the person. But as he looked closer, his anger faded, replaced by surprise. Standing before him was a stunning young woman who looked remarkably like Lando.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there," she apologized, her voice soft and melodic. She bent down to help clean up the spilled drink, giving Max an eyeful of her ample cleavage straining against her low-cut dress.
"Let me buy you a drink," Y/n insisted, her dark eyes meeting Max's gaze. "I should have been paying more attention. Please, allow me to make it up to you."
She gestured to the bar stool beside her. "Have a seat and let me buy you a drink. It's the least I can do."
Max hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and sat down, intrigued by this mysterious woman who seemed so familiar. As she signaled the bartender, he couldn't help but admire her figure, her curves accentuated by dress that she wore.
"I'm Y/n, by the way," she introduced herself, extending her hand. "And you are?"
"Max," he replied, shaking her soft hand. "Nice to meet you, Y/n."
As the bartender brought over their drinks, Y/n leaned in closer, her perfume tantalizing his senses. "So, Max, what brings you here tonight?" she asked with a playful smile, her fingers lightly brushing against his arm.
He sighed and took a swig of his drink, the cool liquid soothing his throat. "Just a rough day at work, you know how it is. Some asshole really got under my skin today."
Y/n nodded sympathetically, her dark eyes filled with understanding. "I'm sorry to hear that. Work can be so stressful sometimes."
"What about you?" Max asked, curious about the beautiful stranger. "What brings you to Austria?"
"Oh, I'm just passing through," Y/n replied casually, sipping her own drink. "Visiting my brother actually. He's here for some kind of race or something."
Max chuckled, shaking his head. "Figures. Seems like everyone and their brother is in town for that damn race."
As they continued to chat, Max found himself drawn to Y/n's warm personality and easygoing nature. She had a way of putting him at ease, her laughter like music to his ears.
As the night wore on, Max and Y/n continued to drink and converse, their initial tension melting away into a comfortable camaraderie. The alcohol flowed freely, and soon they were laughing and joking like old friends.
Y/n regaled Max with tales of her travels, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she described the various places she'd been. Max, in turn, shared stories from his own life, the stresses of work momentarily forgotten in the company of this captivating woman.
Their knees brushed under the table, sending a jolt of electricity through Max's body. He glanced at Y/n, noticing the way her lips curved into a coy smile as she caught his gaze. The air between them crackled with a palpable tension, a mutual attraction that was becoming harder to ignore.
Y/n leaned in closer, her hand resting lightly on Max's thigh. "You know, Max," she purred, her voice low and seductive, "I've really enjoyed talking with you tonight."
Her fingers traced lazy circles on his leg, inching higher with each pass. Max swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he met her smoldering gaze.
"I've enjoyed it too," he managed to say, his voice rough with desire.
Y/n's hand slid further up his thigh, her touch bold and unapologetic. "Maybe we should take this somewhere more private," she suggested, her lips hovering mere inches from his. "Somewhere we can... get to know each other better."
Max's breath caught in his throat, his body responding eagerly to her advances. He nodded, his eyes dark with lust as he imagined all the delicious things they could do together.
Without another word, Y/n stood and took Max's hand, leading him away from the crowded bar.
As they waited for the elevator, Max's hands found their way to Y/n's waist, pulling her close against his body. She let out a soft moan as his lips found the sensitive skin of her neck, his tongue tracing the delicate curve of her throat.
Y/n tilted her head back, giving Max better access to her neck as she pressed herself against him. Her hands slid up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she lost herself in the sensation of his touch.
The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal an empty car. Max swept Y/n inside, his mouth never leaving her skin as he backed her against the wall, his body pinning hers in place.
The doors closed, and the elevator began its ascent to its destination. But Max and Y/n barely noticed, too consumed by their growing desire for one another. Max's hands roamed her curves, squeezing and caressing as Y/n arched into his touch, desperate for more.
The elevator reached their floor, the doors sliding open with a soft ding. Max and Y/n stumbled out, their lips locked in a passionate kiss as they made their way down the hallway to her room.
Max pushed Y/n against the wall as soon as they entered her hotel room, his lips trailing hot kisses along her shoulders. He tugged at the straps of her dress, letting them fall to the sides, exposing her smooth skin.
"You know, you never gave me your last name," he murmured between kisses, his teeth grazing her sensitive flesh. "It's not fair, since I gave you mine."
Y/n let out a breathy moan, arching into his touch as his hands explored her body. "Mmm, maybe I wanted to keep some mystery," she teased, her fingers tangling in his hair.
He nipped at her earlobe, his breath hot against her skin. "Well, I think it's time you revealed all your secrets to me," he growled, his hands sliding under her dress to cup her ass.
She hesitates for a moment, moaning as his lips make contact with the skin on her neck. "Norris," she breathes out. "That's my last name."
As Max's lips trailed along Y/n's neck, leaving a path of hickeys in their wake, the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. "Norris... as in Lando Norris's sister?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Y/n's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and guilt flashing across her face. "You know my brother?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Max chuckled darkly, his hands gripping her hips possessively. "Know him? That asshole is the one who ruined my day," he growled, nipping at her sensitive skin. "But it looks like his sister might just make it all better."
Y/n let out a breathy moan, her head falling back as Max's lips and teeth worked their magic on her neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more of his touch.
Max led Y/n to the bed, sitting down on the edge and pulling her to kneel between his legs. He leaned back, his hands resting on his thighs as he looked down at her with a hungry gaze.
"I want you to make me feel better, Y/n," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I want you to show me just how sorry you are for your brother's behavior."
Y/n bit her lip, her eyes dark with desire as she looked up at him. Slowly, she reached for his belt, her fingers making quick work of the buckle. She tugged his pants and boxers down, freeing his hard, throbbing cock.
"I'm so sorry, Max," she purred, her hand wrapping around his shaft. "Let me make it up to you."
With that, she leaned forward, her tongue darting out to lick the tip of his cock. Max groaned, his head falling back as he savored the sensation of her warm, wet mouth on his most sensitive flesh.
Y/n released Max's cock from her lips, a string of saliva connecting her mouth to the tip. She placed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along his shaft, her tongue swirling around the sensitive skin.
Max watched her through hooded eyes, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she worked her way down his length. Her hands gripped his thighs, her nails digging into his flesh as she took him deeper into her mouth.
"Fuck, Y/n," Max groaned, his hips bucking involuntarily as she deepthroated him. "Your mouth feels so fucking good."
Y/n hummed in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. She bobbed her head up and down, taking him to the back of her throat with each movement.
Y/n took Max deep into her throat, her nose pressing against his pelvis as she swallowed around his cock. Saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth, coating his shaft in a glistening sheen.
Max's hands flew to her hair, gripping the silky strands as he guided her head, thrusting shallowly into her mouth. "That's it, baby," he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take it all like a good girl."
She moaned around his cock, the sound muffled by his thick flesh. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard as her tongue swirled around the sensitive head. Her hands slid up his thighs, fingers teasing the sensitive skin behind his balls.
Max looked down at Y/n, his eyes dark with lust as he watched her worship his cock. "Fuck, Norris," he growled, his grip on her hair tightening. "You look so pathetic like this, choking on my dick."
Y/n's eyes watered, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gagged on his length. But she didn't pull away, instead doubling her efforts, determined to prove herself to him.
Max's hips rocked faster, fucking her face with abandon. "I bet your brother would be ashamed to see you like this," he taunted, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. "His precious sister, nothing more than a slutty little cocksucker."
Max's eyes glinted with malicious glee as he continued to fuck Y/n's face, his grip on her hair unrelenting. "Keep this up, and maybe I'll let your brother win the damn championship," he sneered, his words laced with cruelty. "Wouldn't that be nice? To have your slutty little mouth wrapped around my cock, all for your brother's success?"
Y/n whimpered, the sound muffled by his thick shaft. Tears streamed down her face, her mascara running in dark rivulets. But she didn't resist, instead hollowing her cheeks and sucking harder, desperate to please him.
Max's hips snapped faster, his cock hitting the back of her throat with each brutal thrust. "Fuck, your mouth feels so good," he groaned, his head falling back in ecstasy. "I might just keep you as my personal little cocksucker."
His thrusts became more erratic, his balls tightening as he neared his climax. "I'm gonna cum down your throat," he warned, his voice strained with impending release. "And you're going to swallow every last drop like a good little slut."
Y/n moaned in response, the vibrations pushing Max over the edge. With a guttural groan, he exploded in her mouth, his hot seed filling her throat. Y/n swallowed greedily, her tongue lapping at his shaft to catch every last drop.
Y/n released Max's cock from her lips, a mixture of cum and saliva dripping from the corner of her mouth. She looked up at him, her eyes glazed with a heady mix of submission and desire.
He grinned down at her, his spent cock still twitching with aftershocks of pleasure. "You did well, Norris," he praised, his thumb wiping away the stray drops of cum from her lips. "Maybe your brother will have a shot at that championship after all."
Max pulled Y/n to her feet, his hands roaming her curves possessively. "If you really want your brother to win though, you'll have to do more than just suck my dick," he growled, his eyes dark with lust.
He pushed her back onto the bed, crawling over her and pinning her wrists above her head. "I want this tight little pussy," he demanded, grinding his hardening cock against her clothed core. "I want to fuck you until you're screaming my name."
Y/n looked up at Max, her eyes blazing with defiance. "I don't care about my brother's career," she declared, her voice strong and unwavering. "He's his own person, and I'm mine. My pleasure is what matters to me right now, not his success on the track."
She bucked her hips against Max's, her core aching for his touch. "Fuck me because you want me, not because my brother pissed you off and you want payback," she demanded, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Make me feel good, Max. Make me forget about everything except the feeling of your cock inside me."
Max captured Y/n's lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth to taste her. He broke the kiss, his eyes dark with desire as he ordered, "Take that dress off. I want to see every inch of your gorgeous body."
Y/n sat up, her hands trembling with anticipation as she reached for the zipper of her dress. She pulled it down slowly, revealing the creamy skin of her back inch by inch. The dress fell away, pooling at her feet and leaving her clad in nothing but a lacy black bra and matching panties.
Max's eyes roamed over Y/n's body, taking in the constellation of moles that dotted her skin. He leaned in, pressing soft kisses to each one he encountered, his lips lingering on her sensitive flesh.
She shivered at the sensation, her body responding to his touch. She arched into him, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. "Max," she breathed, her voice heavy with desire. "Please, I need you."
Max stood up, his eyes hungrily devouring Y/n's exposed body. "Get on your hands and knees," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "I want to see all of you."
Y/n complied, positioning herself on the bed as instructed. Max stepped behind her, his hands gripping her ass and spreading her cheeks apart. He pulled her panties down, exposing her glistening pussy to his hungry gaze.
"Fuck, you're so wet," he groaned, his fingers dipping between her folds to tease her entrance. "I can't wait to bury my cock in this tight little cunt."
He thrust into Y/n with a single, powerful stroke, his thick cock splitting her open. The combination of her wetness and the leftover saliva from her earlier ministrations served as a makeshift lube, allowing him to slide in deep.
Y/n let out a sharp cry, her body struggling to accommodate his impressive size. "Slow down," she pleaded, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. "You're so fucking big."
Max paused, giving Y/n a moment to adjust to his size. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he whispered in her ear. "Relax, baby," he cooed, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her hips. "I'll make you feel so good, I promise."
With that, he began to move, his hips rocking against her ass in a slow, steady rhythm. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through Y/n's body, her walls clenching around his thick shaft.
Max picked up the pace, his hips slamming against Y/n's ass with bruising force. The bed creaked beneath them, the headboard banging against the wall as he fucked her with wild abandon.
"Fuck, your pussy feels so good," he grunted, his fingers digging into the meat of her hips. "So fucking tight and wet."
Y/n could only moan in response, her body rocked forward with each powerful thrust. "Yes, yes, fuck me harder," she cried out, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the sheets. "Ruin me with that big fucking cock."
Max obliged, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his release. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with their moans and grunts of pleasure. Y/n's pussy clenched around him, her orgasm building with each stroke of his cock against her G-spot.
Y/n's moans grew louder, her curses echoing off the walls as Max pounded into her. He brought his hand down on her ass, the sharp slap of skin on skin punctuating his thrusts.
"Fuck, you're so loud," he growled, his voice strained with pleasure. "I can't have you alerting the whole hotel to what a dirty little slut you are."
With that, he wrapped a hand around her neck, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp for air. Y/n's moans turned to whimpers, her body shaking with the intensity of her orgasm as Max continued to fuck her through it.
Max's grip on Y/n's neck tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he growled, "Shut the fuck up, you dirty little slut."
Y/n whimpered, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. She tried to nod, but the lack of oxygen made it difficult. Her vision began to blur, the edges of her consciousness fading as Max continued to pound into her.
Just as she thought she might pass out, Max released his grip, allowing her to gasp for air. "Breathe," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "I'm not done with you yet."
Y/n gasped for air, her lungs burning as she struggled to fill them with much-needed oxygen. Her moans mixed with her ragged breaths, creating a symphony of pleasure and desperation.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she chanted, her body trembling as another orgasm crashed over her. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."
Her words dissolved into a scream as she squirted all over Max's cock, her pussy clenching and fluttering around his thick shaft. The sensation pushed Max over the edge, his own orgasm ripping through him like a freight train.
Max fucked Y/n through his orgasm, his hips jerking erratically as he emptied himself inside her. His cum flooded her pussy, so much that it began to leak out around his still-twitching cock.
Y/n whimpered, her body overwhelmed by the sensation of being filled so completely. She could feel Max's seed dripping down her thighs, marking her as his.
Max collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He nuzzled into her neck, pressing soft kisses to her sweat-slicked skin. "Fuck, that was intense," he murmured, his voice hoarse with satisfaction.
He noticed Y/n's labored breathing, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. He pulled back, his eyes searching her face for any signs of distress.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. "Did I push you too far?"
She shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "No, I'm fine," she assured him, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. "It was intense, but in the best possible way."
Y/n's body went limp, her thighs quivering as she collapsed onto the bed. She cursed under her breath, her words a jumbled mix of expletives and praise for the mind-blowing sex she had just experienced.
"Fuck, that was so good," she moaned, her hand reaching down to touch her sensitive, well-fucked pussy. "I can't believe how hard you made me cum."
Max laughed, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he looked down at Y/n's trembling form. "I may have gotten a bit carried away," he admitted, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip. "Your brother really pissed me off today, and I guess I took it out on you."
She shivered at his touch, a small smile playing on her lips. "Well, if this is what happens when you're mad at him, maybe he should piss you off more often," she teased, her voice still hoarse from her earlier cries of pleasure.
Max chuckled, his hand sliding up Y/n's side to cup her breast. "Careful what you wish for," he warned, his thumb brushing over her nipple. "I might just have to find more reasons to get angry with your brother."
Y/n arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips, "As long as it means I get to feel this good, I think I can live with that."
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♡₊˚☀️・₊✧ 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶'𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 & 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 ♡₊˚☀️・₊✧
: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 he's obsessed to the max 𖥔 ceo x baker 𖥔 grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 she talks a lot x he listens a lot 𖥔 spoils the literal shit out of you 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content in vague details 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 super soft nanami 𖥔 close proximity 𖥔 he loves kissing the fuck out of you
: ̗̀➛ words: 7.7k
: ̗̀➛ notes: you guys are so sweet for supporting my toji fanfic which is why i wanted to write another and this time its about my husband, the father of our children, the man who deserves every beautiful thing in this world. if you enjoy my work, please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy!
Nanami Kento entered your bakery at exactly six o' clock.
You carefully observed the moments he dedicated to perusing the array of pastries, the vibrant mountain of macaroons, and the freshly baked, warm casse-croûte that you unfailingly prepared for him when he clocked out. There was a tender quality to his countenance, noticeable in the slight release of tension between his brows as the soft, buttery flakes dissolved on his tongue in your presence. Without fail, he consistently left a generous tip in your travel jar, dedicated to a solo trip to Malaysia.
"Did you know they've got this thing about not wearing yellow in Malaysia?" you mentioned during your initial meeting, eyeing the distinctive black-dotted tie worn by the stoic salaryman. "Well, not that your tie would get you in trouble; it's not entirely yellow. In fact, I think it's perfect as it is, just like your hair, which also has a touch of yellow.”
Please cut your tongue off.
Anticipating a polite nod and perhaps a slightly regretful five-dollar tip left in the jar, you were taken aback when he queried, “Why is that?”
“Oh, uh . . . a bunch of protesters wore the color during a demand for their prime minister to step down," you stumbled, feeling a twinge of embarrassment for veering off into an unintentional crash course. Dropping trivia about Malaysia wasn't exactly the same as flirting. "So, it's kind of become a symbolism for protest and, well, threat. I read it in a book once. I don't know if it's a legitimate law, though."
“Do you like reading?” he asked, still interested in conversing with you. “Most people would Google information.”
“I like reading. It’s easier to retain information that way.”
Nanami acknowledged your gesture with a nod of gratitude as he accepted the casse-croûte and exited your bakery. Anticipating that he might not return due to his reserved nature and your awkward attempts at compliment-flirting, you were surprised to find that he was, in fact, full of surprises.
Nanami became a regular visitor. Day after day, for the past year, he arrived at precisely six o' clock. He continued his routine, whether he purchased a box of pastries, a pair of bagged bread loaves, or simply a casse-croûte and a small cup of milk coffee. You always prepared his order five minutes ahead of time, just in case you were occupied with other customers.
"Enjoy!" you chirped, casting a warm smile at the customer you just served as the bakery slowly emptied, leaving only Nanami browsing the delightful array of small cakes. "Good evening, Mr. Nanami!"
Nanami raised his head in your direction. "Good evening." He finally settled on the black forest cake from the open freezer and brought it to the counter.
"Special occasion?" you inquired as you rang him out, sneakily not charging him for the casse-croûte and coffee. There was a special occasion of your own that you were eager to share, hanging from the tip of your tongue.
"An intern's birthday."
"Sounds fun!" You had been saving up for your birthday present since summer, and Nanami had played a significant role. "When's your birthday?"
"July third."
Your eyes widened with surprise. "No way! Mine is July sixth. We’re summer babies."
“Happy belated birthday,” he said, fishing for his wallet, gaze barely meeting yours.
"Same to you." Offering the sandwich and coffee, you extended them towards him. "Consider it a belated birthday treat."
Nanami’s brows crinkled. “I cannot accept.”
"Why not? It's a gift." You slid the items closer with a subtle nudge, leaving him little room to refuse. "And you've given me a priceless gift, Mr. Nanami." Your eyes hinted at the tip jar's location, which now lay empty.
“Were you robbed?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.
“What—? No! Oh my god. You’re so funny.” A chuckle escaped behind your fist, and he observed you momentarily before glancing away. "I'm heading to Malaysia next week!"
Nanami gave a subtle nod. Although his lack of a more animated response disappointed you, you understood that shortness was his nature. "Congratulations.”
"Thank you, Mr. Nanami. Your generous tips really made a difference. They covered half of our trip.”
“Our? It’s not a solo trip?”
You let out a little nervous laugh. Should you really be telling Nanami about your crippling love life? Would he even be interested? Well, he seemed to listen carefully when you talk. Maybe he wouldn’t care, but you really needed someone to talk to about this. Unfortunately, all your friends were too busy with their marriages to care.
“Well?” Nanami prompted.
"Right, sorry. It's just—I've actually been seeing someone. Funny enough, we met in a Facebook group for solo travelers. He lives in a nearby town.”
Unexpectedly, Nanami's first question caught you off guard. "Can you trust him?" His concern surfaced, causing you to pause. "I'm only asking because you met this man online. You can't trust strangers on the internet."
"Thank you, Mr. Nanami, but I’m capable enough to know about stranger danger," you said with a funny smile, dismissing his parental concern. "Besides, we’ve gone on a few dates over the past month."
Nanami's frown remained intact. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you paying for him, too?"
"Yes."
“Why?” Nanami asked, firmly placing his palms on the counter, making it clear he wasn't leaving until he was convinced you wouldn't get in trouble during your Malaysian adventure.
"What do you mean 'why'?"
His mouth opened but then closed into a thin line, his forehead lines deepening. "It’s not my place to tell you what’s right and what isn’t—"
"Yes, you’re right about that," you interrupted.
"—but this is bordering on recklessness. You cannot use your trip’s money to pay for a man you’ve known for a mere month. Why is he even in the traveler’s group if he cannot afford to pay for himself?"
"Mr. Nan—"
"You are being scammed."
Your teeth clenched together. You rarely got impatient. Years in the hospitality industry and dealing with misogynistic tenants didn't break you. Even setting up your bakery and almost draining your savings didn't dim your optimism.
But getting scolded by someone who barely spoke more than five sentences to you in a whole year of being a regular? That's pushing it.
He didn't know you or Toji, the guy you're seeing. He didn’t understand how much you appreciated him accompanying you. So what if you covered his share of the trip expenses? Toji promised to pay you back, and he's been paying the bills for your dates. They might not be fancy, but it's the gesture that matters.
Sure, Nanami chipped in some money, and you're thankful for that. But he has no right to question you. Other people also contributed to your travel fund; it's not like he single-handedly financed the whole trip. You appreciated his support, but he was not in a position to lecture you.
With a sigh, you managed to contain your frustration and said, "Have a great rest of your night, Mr. Nanami.”
Nanami's frustration was palpable as he stood firm, his gaze piercing through the windows of your soul. “I suggest you take my advice into serious consideration. It would greatly upset me if you had the chance to visit one of your favorite countries taken from you.”
You didn't bother watching him go. Instead, your discovery awaited you at the counter—the money for the coffee and casse-croûte lay there, accompanied by a crumpled yellow note that had slipped to the floor. Moving around the counter, you picked it up and smoothed out its wrinkles.
What greeted you was your own name scrawled across the sticky note, repeated around fifty times, the letters overlapping in a chaotic dance. Some were hastily scratched out, while others were executed with perfect cursive precision. You didn’t know what to make of it.
During your confusion, a new customer walked in. Quickly, you pocketed the note, focused on carrying on with your day despite the lingering frustration that Nanami's cryptic message had left in its wake.
Toji never showed up.
You waited for him for two agonizing hours, extending the torture even more after your flight had taken off. It dawned on you that he likely didn't bother getting a ticket. He probably pocketed the money you sent him and vanished into thin air. Every attempt to reach him failed miserably—your calls were forwarded, and the fifth one hammered the heartbreaking truth that he had blocked your number. To compound your misery, you sent him a string of text messages that refused to deliver your pain. You didn't even know where he lived, as your encounters were always in the obscure locations of your budgeted dates.
The thought of reporting him to the police crossed your mind, accusing him of theft, but the lack of photographic evidence left you helpless. To make matters worse, he hated taking pictures, and you were uncertain if the name he provided was even real. All that remained was a flicker of hope that you might cross paths with the bastard and unleash your pent-up rage with a hard kick to his dick.
With a heavy heart, you gathered your strength, brushed away the tears until not a single trace remained on your lashes, and lugged your suitcase and carry-on outside the airport, hoping to hail a cab.
The idea of facing the upcoming days at work felt agonizing, goading you to spend them in the isolation of your shabby apartment. You were engrossed in a depressing routine—microwaved dinners, aimless hours on the couch, and a marathon of old cable TV shows.
As hunger struck again, you contemplated your options. Baking seemed like a possibility, but motivation had abandoned you. Pasta could be an option, but the lack of noodles and tomato sauce made it impractical. So, you settled for the one thing that required no ingredients: crying.
At least that was free.
Despite the inner turmoil, you mustered the strength to shoulder your overcoat, sporting your fleece pajamas printed with candy canes and well-worn second-hand boots.
The short walk to the corner store felt longer than usual, the biting cold making you clutch your threadbare coat tighter. Your teeth chattered in protest as you entered, and the rush of warm air was a momentary relief against the chill. Fingers numb, you mindlessly reached for familiar comfort snacks—chips, chocolate milk, anything to dull the ache.
A hand much larger than yours beat you to the last packet of croissants.
“Ah, sorry.” You let it go. “All yours—” You choked as you looked up, and up, at Nanami staring at you wide-eyed, his hazel eyes flickering at a rapid speed as if he were hallucinating your presence. Your face flushed with embarrassment, and the weight of the past five days crammed upon you—his uncanny prediction, your own naivety, and the sting of being swindled. “Mr. Nanami . . . ”
“Aren’t you supposed to be in—”
“Good night.”
With a dismissive shake of your head, you left the basket on the counter, mumbled a quick apology, and retreated back into the biting cold.
You’ve faced tons of humiliating moments—slipping in front of customers, your purse strap getting snagged in a door and dragging you back, and that one unforgettable instance when a little boy labeled your eyebrows as caterpillars in front of a line of onlookers. Yet, none of those incidents could hold a candle to the awkwardness of bumping into the very man who had warned you about the ill-fated choice of paying for a stranger's trip—stranger now—when it was supposed to be your trip.
You felt a firm grip on your wrist, making your restless pacing suddenly stop.
Startled, you turned around to find a pair of expressionless hazel eyes and a slightly out-of-breath figure. Now is not the time to ogle Mr. Nanami’s broad shoulders, you idiot!
Releasing your wrist, he handed over a white, plastic bag. With a raised eyebrow, you peered inside to inspect its contents. It held everything from your shopping basket, including the last packet of croissants. Even more unexpected, he had paid for it all.
“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” you assured, your eyes already scanning for the nearest ATM, just in case you forgot. "But for now." You pulled out the packaged croissants and extended them toward him. Your body was shaking, not because of November but because of how you were scammed after being forewarned by Nanami. “Please. Take it.”
He took your small hand in both of his, the warmth immediately melting the tension in your body. “So cold.”
A soft giggle escaped you at the obvious observation, and you placed your free hand on top of his. "So warm." Sniffling, tears welled up in your eyes. "You know what else is warm? The sun. And it's yellow. It's so yellow."
“Factually speaking, it is white.”
You wiped an arm across your nose. “What?”
“The sun. It’s white. It’s only yellow in children's books.”
You weren't about to argue with the guy who vindicated your slip-ups. Still, given the circumstances, you wished he'd soften the bluntness and let you bask in the illusion that the sun was a simple shade of yellow.
"I've always loved the color yellow," you mumbled. "Maybe getting scammed was a blessing. I'd probably get fined for wearing yellow otherwise. I couldn't afford to mess up on my trip. Besides, it all depends on the shade, right? Imagine how many fines I'd rack up just testing which shade of yellow suits me—"
Nanami tugged you close, capturing your lips with his.
A sharp intake of breath filled your lungs, eyes widening in surprise. Instinctively, your hands pushed him away, fingers grazing your tingling lips.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. Don’t—Don’t worry. About it.” You tucked your lips in and tasted chocolate and mint—two of your favorite combinations. Nanami always seemed like the kind of man who would hate both flavors independently and dependently. “You’re okay. I mean—You’re okay in general. You’re not okay with kissing. You’re probably great, I’m sure.” Your tongue traced the curve of your lower lip, and Nanami’s eyes followed the motion. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”
You walked up to him, grabbed the lapels of his coat, and tugged him down a notch, your lips colliding with his.
Nanami's touch was calculated, his hand sailing onto your cheek, feeding warmth to your cold ear before vanishing into the labyrinth of your hair. Simultaneously, the other serpentined to the small of your back, his magnetic energy drawing you snugly against his chest. His warm tongue delicately swept across your lower lip, an unspoken cue that encouraged you to part your lips in response.
Nanami deepened the kiss, your tongues stroking against one another feverishly as if it were your last kiss. Who knows? Maybe it could’ve been. But the way he kissed with such desperation, releasing soft moans, not allowing you a moment to catch your breath, made you think that maybe this was just the start.
And you kissed him back just as needy.
If your hands slightly released their hold on his lapels, you'd gently cup the sides of his neck, rising on your tiptoes. And if your calves protested, you'd draw him down, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers entwining in his pale, golden locks. The taste of mint chocolate lingered on your lips, and a smile curved on your mouth as he stole a quick peck, pulling back just to gaze into your eyes for a moment before kissing you again.
You’re not sure how long you two stood and kissed there. Nanami was the one who always took the lead, savoring the taste of your pink, tender tongue, kissing your chilly cheeks and dewy eyes. The desire for each other made it hard to break away, yet the need for a breath of air was undeniable.
Finally, you decided to be the one to step back, signalling the end of your first kiss with him.
Your bottom lip tingled as you pulled it in, jaw aching from the infectious smile that had taken over your face. You couldn't help stealing glances at the tall man before you, who returned your gaze with a soft, almost imperceptible grin. Yet, in his eyes, under the gentle glow of the streetlight, you could see the excitement and joy of kissing you, twinkling brightly.
“I'm gonna—”
“I should—”
Both of you sighed; you with a soft chuckle, and him with a discreet throat-clearing.
“I've already missed quite a few workdays,” you said. “Gotta earn that dough if I want to make next month’s rent.” Nanami didn’t quite catch your bakery pun, but he nodded in agreement.
“Right,” you murmured, subtly veering to the side, putting on a little show as you started to walk away. You admitted it—you were a hopeless romantic. You secretly hoped for him to steal a kiss on your cheek and watch until you safely disappeared around the corner. “I’m off now.”
“Goodnight,” Nanami replied, subtly licking his lips for the sixteenth time. Yes, you were keeping count.
“Night-night.”
Nanami strolled down his end of the sidewalk. You followed suit, turning down your street.
Luck had only sometimes been on your side when it came to men and their romantic gestures. Oh well. At least you experienced a passionate kiss from one of your favorite customers. Asking for more seemed a bit too much—
A hand gently pressed against your back, and as you turned, it gracefully curved around your waist, drawing you in. Nanami caught your gasp and kissed you with an urgency that doubled, holding onto you as if his life depended on it, lifting you off your toes. Three sweet pecks later, he released you, both of your faces flushed.
"Get home safely," he whispered, walking away without a second glance.
That night, you couldn't help but giggle into your mascara-stained pillow.
The morning after, you were a whirlwind of joy and light, twirling through the bakery with trays of freshly baked pastries, replenishing boxes and take-out essentials. You greeted customers with an extra dose of sweetness, and to top it off, you even handed out a tray of delectable chocolate jam cookies. And you wore a yellow bow in your hair.
The oven beeped as the casse-croûtes finished baking, signaling their readiness for Nanami's arrival in just five minutes. You took special care in preparing his milk coffee, indulging in a quiet chuckle at your undeniable favoritism. Though the neighborhood bakery wasn't bustling with a large customer base, your attention was solely dedicated to him—your only regular as everyone else buzzed in the distant city an hour away.
With his coffee prepared and two casse-croûtes packed, you added a chocolate-mint cookie to the bag. Then, you decided to rearrange the shelves of gift baskets to pass the time.
Setting up the ladder, you ascended the shaky steps until you were eye to eye with the fifth shelf. Heights were never your forte, which, in hindsight, was another reason why flying to Malaysia was out of the question. The more you thought about being scammed, the more your heart wrenched from your lost trip. You’d again brought out your tip jar and prayed the odds were in your favor. Hell, maybe you’d ask Nanami to join you if you decided to take your relationship to the next level.
As you secured the bow on the basket, your gaze landed on the clock—6:30 p.m., and Nanami was a no-show.
Anxiety surged through you in an instant.
Did he leave you hanging? Maybe that kiss was a turnoff, and he chose to disappear rather than be upfront about finding you too overwhelming. Did your breath smell bad? Were you a terrible kisser? Or, worse, did something happen to him?
A torrent of worries flooded your mind, breaking through like a burst dam. Each imagined scenario seemed more nightmarish than the last, causing your head to spin. Recent events, like Toji's betrayal, fueled this self-doubt, made you question your intuition. While Nanami was clearly wealthy, consistently tipping a twenty each day, you found yourself questioning whether he had plans to use you for something else. As if that weren't enough, doubts crept in about your appearance and your optimistic, extroverted personality.
It started to make sense, didn't it? Nanami led a tranquil life, sticking to a routine of work and home, while you were a whirlwind of spontaneity—constantly buzzing with new ideas and discussions, unable to sit still or resist laughter at the silliest jokes. Everything seemed to fascinate you, yet nothing appeared to faze him. How could you have been so naive to entertain the thought—
“Good evening.”
“Ah!” you yelped at the sudden baritone intruding into your thoughts. Your foot, betrayed by the unexpected intrusion, lost its balance on the step. Your arms flailed in a desperate attempt to find stability as you teetered backward, the impending hazard of a severe concussion and potential spinal cord injury looming.
But just as you were prepared to shake hands with God, Nanami's powerful arms swooped in at the last possible moment. With a secure hold, he cradled you in a bridal style, and you clung to him like a shaking puppy, arms looped around his neck.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his breath slightly labored.
You gingerly peeled one eye open to peek at him. His expression was one of calm disorientation; eyebrows knit together while his lips maintained a straight, tight line.
"Yes," you whispered, soothed by his timely intervention.
Nanami steadied you back onto your feet but maintained a firm grip on your elbows. “Look at me.” As you did, he inspected each eye closely while keeping his hand steady on your left cheek. He checked below your jaw, down to your dusty palms, which he cleaned with his silk handkerchief. He also patted down your tousled hair. "Are you sure you're okay?"
“Mm-hmm.” You could cry from how gentle he was with you. “A-Are you okay?”
“I am now.” He took a composed breath and effortlessly retrieved his suitcase from the floor, brushing off invisible dust. “I apologize for being late. My . . . car broke down.”
"What? Oh my god! Do you need me to give you my mechanic's number? I promise he's not as bad as the Google reviews say. He's actually quite a sweet man. And he gives me a friends and family discount because my father was close with him." You beamed, and Nanami squinted his eyes as if the brightness of your smile momentarily blinded him, but he tried his best to reciprocate.
“Do your parents live here?”
You shook your head. “They passed away a while ago.”
“I apologize.”
"Don't be." You quickly switched subjects by fluttering towards the counter to pick up his items. “Tell me how your coffee tastes.” You turned around, adding, “I switched to a new brand of milk—”
Nanami pressed his lips against yours, momentarily freezing you. His seamless transition afterward could have fooled an onlooker into thinking you'd been married for years. "Thank you.” He took a sip and nodded thoughtfully. “It’s great. Everything you make is great.”
“Thanks,” you mumbled, sudden shyness enveloping you. From the kiss? The compliment? Him? You didn’t know at all. “Do you still need me to give you the mechanic’s number?”
“It’s all right. I had it fixed. Minor battery issue, that’s all.”
“Ah, okay. See, that’s why I prefer to walk.”
Nanami glanced elsewhere, nodding. “Then, would you like to walk with me after you’ve closed?”
“Oh.” A subtle flicker of surprise crossed your features. Nonchalantly, you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before smiling warmly. “Of course, yes. I’d love to go on a walk with you. Where are we going? There are lots of cafés in a nearby shopping district. I know all the best places to take you to.” A grave thought struck you just then. “Oh, actually. Hmm.”
Curious, he tilted his head down, meeting your worried gaze. "What is it?"
"Well," you began, your thoughts taking a cautious turn, "you probably have a set time to be home unless you live nearby. In that case, we could spend the entire evening strolling around. Only if you're interested, of course."
Nanami’s lips twitched. “I live nearby.”
“Where?” You weren’t ashamed to have been so upfront. It was more of a precautionary measure.
And he didn't seem bothered, quickly revealing the familiar neighborhood you instantly recognized. It was a fifteen-minute walk from your own place.
"May I step out momentarily to make a call?" Nanami asked, pulling out his phone. It was the latest model you noticed—one that came out last week and mocked your own that was five versions older. “It will be quick.”
“By all means.” You had to fix your hair and make-up anyway.
Nanami nodded and exited the shop, leaving you to flee behind the counter. As you crouched down to check yourself in the small mirror tucked away in the lower drawer, you couldn't help but feel a warmth on your face from the unexpected collapse, the sweet, brief kiss, and his impeccable navy blue suit decorated with yellow cufflinks. Maybe a café was too casual for him; a restaurant might have been a more suitable choice. An expensive choice. However, you were adamant about not letting Nanami cover the entire cost.
Upon his return, five minutes later, you both settled at one of the three round tables in your bakery (he even pulled out your chair for you). Sipping on your coffees and enjoying the casse-croûtes and chocolate pastries, the conversation seemed somewhat one-sided. Yet, Nanami's aloof demeanor never made you feel inferior for dominating the dialogue. He listened to every word and vowel with his undivided attention, nodding alongside and adding in short sentences when he could relate to your childhood shenanigans.
"Wait," he interrupted, causing you to halt in your tracks. The sun cast a warm glow on his face, making his eyes narrow into slits, but God did he look handsome. He extended his hand and brushed a thumb near your lips, discovering a small chocolate smudge. Swiftly, he licked it clean and tidied up the area around your lips with a napkin. "Beautiful."
“What?”
Nanami was a deer in headlights. He sunk his head, beating himself up from murmuring his thoughts aloud—at least, that’s what you concluded. "You look beautiful," he declared with more assurance, his gaze on your face. "You are beautiful, Y/N."
Oh, my.
Your heart was going to claw itself out of your chest. You could cook an egg on your face from how heated it had gotten. In fact, you were burning hotter than the sun, which continuously made him squint and blink. “Thank you.”
He nodded twice, finishing the remnants of his coffee. Rising, he disposed of the cups and wrappers in the garbage bin, then extended a hand to help you stand. "I'll wait outside while you close up."
At a lightning pace, you ensured that everything in the bakery was safely unplugged and shut off. Grabbing your purse, you gave yourself a quick once-over in the mirror, adjusting your face and hair. Stepping outside, you meticulously locked the door and gates.
Without a word, Nanami entwined his fingers with yours, causing you to smile like an idiot at him. He maintained a straight, vigilant gaze, seemingly unresponsive as you wrapped yourself around his arm. A subtle smirk tugged at your lips when you felt his muscles flex.
You walked for hours, café-hopping and trying pastries, baked goods, and sweet drinks. Every time Nanami attempted to cover the expenses with his cash, you scolded him, insisting that since you had suggested the place, you should be the one to pay. It was a rule you had read about online, and all your friends stuck to it religiously. The thought of Nanami spending his hard-earned money on your interests made you feel incredibly guilty.
As a matter of fact, you were feeling guilty about tons of things. He told you he worked at an investment firm, which meant it was a nine-to-five, likely sporting a migraine he kept hidden, and now he was being dragged around the shopping district by you, forced to listen to you because he was a man who didn’t complain, wouldn’t complain, and long, story short, you wanted to die.
“Kento,” you muttered, removing your hand from his, goosebumps rippling on your skin.
“Yes, darling?”
Your chest felt like it was being clenched in a fist. “I'm . . . I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For making you do all this. For making you pay for everything. For dragging you around when you're probably on the verge of exhaustion." Avoiding his gaze, you fixed your eyes on the concrete beneath you. “I know I can be too much sometimes—well, all the time.” A self-deprecating chuckle escaped your lips. "Exes in my past relationships have made it clear. I get overly excited easily, crave attention like one needs oxygen, trust people too easily to the point of getting scammed, and, well, I don't bring anything particularly special to the table. I'm sorry, Kento. Maybe it's best if we just stay friends?”
Nanami’s soft fingers lifted your chin up. Your words absolutely shattered his face, leaving you to feel worse than before. His lips were parted into a frown, his brows were scrunched up, brown irises flickering like he couldn’t believe you said that. This was the most reaction he had given you in the year that you’ve known him.
“No,” he said.
You blinked the tears gathered at your waterline. “No?”
“No.” Nanami took a calming breath, closing his eyes. His forehead gently pressed against yours. “Please, let me be selfish for this once. For you. I can’t let you go—I won’t let you go."
"Kento—"
"I want to do this, Y/N. I want to pay for everything. I want you to drag me around because I’ll never be too tired for you.” Nanami drew back and cradled your sobbing face in his large hands. “I know I fail to show it, darling, but I love your excitement. I love paying attention to every detail of you because you’ve become my oxygen source. You’re a good, kindhearted woman, and anyone would be lucky to be seen by you. And you don’t have to bring anything to the table because there isn’t one dividing us, keeping us lengths apart.” His lips brushed your forehead, imprinting his words into your mind. "I want us to be more than just friends. I want us to be best friends. Lovers. In this life and the ones that follow."
You could explode.
Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, seeking support as if the ground beneath you was about to crumble. Yet, you knew he would catch you, just as before. He was so real, embracing you wholly, both of you breathing in each other's scents to confirm a human like this could exist. How grateful you were he stumbled into your bakery that one rainy night, and how grateful he was that you offered him free coffee and a casse-croûte while he was freezing and trembling. His presence brought life to your bakery, gave you something to look forward to when you were at your lowest, and you gave him . . . everything. You were his everything since the first day.
As the shared silence lingered, Nanami's phone shattered the moment, its noisy ring cutting through the haze. You instinctively stepped back, but he clung to your hand as if afraid you might slip away.
Never, Nanami Kento. You’re stuck with me.
When he took out his phone, you caught a glimpse of the contact name: Satoru (assistant).
Before you could process the fact Nanami had an assistant, he swiped right. “Yeah?”
The voice on the other end resonated with loud cheerfulness in the quiet alleyway. Nanami half-rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Very well. Leave it there. I’ll be there when I want to.”
The assistant chuckled and sang his goodbye, the cheerful tone abruptly cutting off as Nanami ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket.
“Do all stockbrokers have assistants?”
He tilted his head. “I’m not a stockbroker.”
“Oh? I’m sorry. I assumed because you worked at an investment firm.”
“Yes, I was a stockbroker.” He nodded, warming your hand in his, then casually added, “But I own a firm now.”
Your brows hit your hairline. “That’s amazing!”
“Thank you. We have several locations around the country. Kento Investments. Have you heard of it?”
Heard of it? You were a client some time ago when you were starting your bakery. All you encountered were glowing reviews about their ethical practices, a refreshing leave from the scheming ways of most investment firms that had previously taken advantage of you. It stood out as the industry leader in your research, and the team was lovely in guiding you through the process, so much so that you even invited them to your grand opening.
"Ah, you have." Nanami grinned, gently tilting your chin upward and closing your gaping mouth. "Therefore, my darling, don't feel guilty about me covering the expenses. I'm quite secure in my position to support both of us for centuries."
All you could manage was a disbelieving chuckle as you rested your forehead against his chest. Taking it as an invitation, he embraced you, crowning you with kisses.
Lifting your head, you said, "There's something I want to get for you."
"What is it?"
Hand-in-hand, you pulled him back toward the bustling district, the sound of his deep laughter echoing in the air. Your own laughter naturally joined in.
As you strolled past a vendor selling accessories, your attention was drawn to an item you had briefly noticed earlier in your walk. Although you planned to purchase it the following day and surprise him in the afternoon, tonight felt like the perfect moment.
Politely approaching the elderly vendor, you asked, "Could I please try those on?" He handed you a pair of round sunglasses with a green tint to the lenses. Standing on your toes, you carefully placed the glasses on Nanami's nose, adjusting them to sit perfectly on the bridge. The sides of the spectacles featured a stylish steampunk design that complemented his narrow, sharp features. "Handsome.”
"I'll take it.” Nanami reached for his wallet. However, you were one step ahead, swiftly bringing out the spare change you had set aside in your coat pocket. You had already calculated the price, ready to outsmart him in this little game of charity.
“Y/N.”
“Thank you,” you said to the shop vendor, ignoring Nanami’s stare.
“Y/N.”
“Yes, darling?" You looped around his arm and began your stroll down the sidewalk. “Oh, come on. Let me be selfish and treat you once in a while.” You cut off his protests with a kiss.
He surrendered instantly.
Over the next four weeks, you didn’t realize how quickly you’d become comfortable with Nanami. Like clockwork, he would arrive at your bakery, patiently occupying a table until your duties with customers or decorating displays finished. Now resembling a vibrant florist shop, the bakery owed its transformation to Nanami's thoughtful gestures—bouquets of flowers in every shade of yellow, orange, and white became an amusing routine. As you arranged them in vases, you would burst into fits of giggles like a maniac.
You and him were like a Venn diagram, overlapping in unexpected places. He enjoyed non-fiction, classics, and history books; you immersed yourself in the world of romance and mystery novels. TV nights were a compromise between his love for documentaries and your penchant for anything sappy on Netflix, occasionally spicing things up with a true-crime documentary. His fascination with astronomy met your fixation with astrology, and surprisingly, he didn't scoff when you read the lines on his palms. Instead, he appreciated it just as much as you cherished his nightly photos of the moon and his ability to name the stars above.
At least, you were both Team Cats.
Nanami introduced you to his friends, including his quirky assistant Gojo, who had a habit of shamelessly flirting with you, seemingly just to get under Nanami's skin. However, your boyfriend was secure enough not to let it bother him. Yet, a trace of possessiveness would emerge during sex—when the two of you were entwined in bed, bodies bared and bathed in the aftermath of shared sweat.
Exiting the restaurant after a delightful dinner date, Nanami turned to you and suggested, "I'd like to invite you to my home tonight."
Finally, you thought, resisting the urge to dip your toes into the topic of visiting his home, especially considering he had been a frequent guest at yours.
The fact that he lived nearby had always puzzled you; he mentioned it casually yet never extended an invitation for a simple coffee or a chat on his welcome mat. Weekends saw him working from your living room, staying overnight, but on weekdays, he'd only spend a brief hour or two with you before heading home, a practice that seemed counterintuitive given his closeness. Despite the confusion, you hesitated to jeopardize your relationship by fishing too deeply.
So far, Nanami hadn't given you any reason to doubt him.
"Are you sure?" you asked cautiously.
"Absolutely, darling.” Nanami took your hand and planted a small kiss on the back of it. "I apologize for the delay. I've been having it . . ." He casually flicked up his sunglasses that had slipped. ". . . renovated."
“Oh, I see. Well, in that case, I’d love to!”
Nanami nodded and leaned down to kiss your cheek. “Thank you for being so patient. I know it was eating you alive. You're not exactly the master of hiding your emotions.” He gave you a small smile and kissed your cheek again.
You responded with a smile that crinkled your nose. "Just a bit anxious, that's all."
"Understandable.” He guided you toward his neighbourhood, exchanging a warm smile as you nestled against his arm. Observing the goosebumps on your skin and the faint shivers, he realized you had forgotten your cardigan. Without hesitation, he removed his blazer and draped it around your shoulders, helping you slip your arms through the sleeves and buttoning it up.
You took a deep breath, inhaling the pleasant scent from the collars. "You always smell so good."
Nanami bent down, kissing the side of your neck right above your racing pulse. "As do you," he murmured against your skin. "Always."
“Gosh, you're so flirty,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his midsection and burying your face in his chest.
“Come on now.”
You walked for another ten minutes, taking a five-minute pit stop to pet a stray cat before stopping in front of a towering residence building. It was one of those extravagant ones boasting a fountain in the lobby and a vigilant security guard who greeted Nanami with a two-finger salute.
Hand on your back, Nanami guided you toward the elevator with mirrors on all sides.
He exuded an air of sophistication in his neatly rolled-up black dress shirt, complemented by beige pants. His pale, blond hair was slicked back, a Rolex clasped his wrist, and veins corded his well-defined forearms. The sunglasses you had given him rested atop his head.
As Nanami caught your eyes on the reflective surfaces, a sudden blush warmed your cheeks. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” you whispered, fingers idly playing with the golden butterfly bracelet he had given you on the night he asked you to be his girlfriend. “I was just . . . God, you’re so beautiful. Sometimes, I think I’m dreaming of you. And I don’t want to wake up from it.”
Nanami released his grip on your hand, wrapping his arm around your waist. He tilted your chin upward and planted a lecherous kiss on your lips. As you stumbled backward, your back met the cool surface of a mirror, and you clung to his biceps. He continued kissing your jaw and nibbling at your neck.
“Ken—Wait, there’s a camera!”
“I own the building.”
Without allowing you to react, he kissed you fervently, his hands framing your face and his knee pressing between your legs. Your hips ground against the muscled surface, creating a heated friction that drew a moan from him.
The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival, but Nanami was undeterred. He refused to break the kiss. Lifting you effortlessly, he cradled you with a single forearm beneath your backside and your arms encircling his neck. Laughter echoed as you entered directly into the main corridor of his penthouse.
“Your front door is an elevator?” You marveled with an open jaw.
“Yes, it seems so.”
Oh, how you loved his monotonous replies.
Nanami gently placed you onto the expansive white surface of his couch, smoothly moving over your body to continue.
“I knew you were a clean freak,” you said between his kisses, “but your penthouse looks like it was bought this morning.”
“Two weeks ago.” He kisses down your neck, sideways toward your left shoulder. “That’s why I waited to invite you. Gojo was having the place decorated. I've installed a library for you, too. We can go book-shopping this weekend.”
"Wait, what?" You pushed him back by his chest, incredulous. "Hold on, hold on, hold on. You mean to tell me you moved in just two weeks ago?"
"Yes," he answered, tilting his head slightly perplexedly. "When you asked about my residence, I panicked and couldn't come up with a proper answer, fearing you might decline my invitation for a walk. So, I bought this building from the previous owner on the spot. There are also commercial benefits. Quite a strategic move, if you ask me." With that, Nanami resumed his attention, focusing on kissing your collarbones and skillfully lowering your dress, exposing your chest to him.
But you were still stuck on the subject like a pesky fruit fly. “But you don’t live here?”
“I don’t.” His mouth brushed over the mound of your left breast. “I live in Shibuya.”
“Shibuya? Kento, that’s an hour and a half away!"
"Hmm." He glanced up, mouth sucking at your nipple.
"You've been faithfully coming to my city every single day, all the way from Shibuya, for a whole year? You've been burning all that gas just to be with me?"
He broke away to say, "Gojo drives me occasionally," and switched to your right breast.
"Nanami Kento, are you out of your mind?"
Finally, he released you and sighed. "I fail to see the issue here." He appeared so innocent, with his moist lips, tousled hair, and a crumpled dress shirt.
You hurriedly sat up, readjusting your dress, which seemed to displease him. "I'm at a loss for words." Your gaze caught the weariness etched on his face, the bags under his eyes, the slow, heavy blinks signaling his desperate need for sleep. "You haven't actually been living here, have you?"
Upon hearing that, Nanami let out a weary sigh. "I do it when I'm too drained to make the drive back on weekdays."
As the details of his schedule fell into place, you flinched inwardly. He would rise at the crack of dawn, dedicate endless hours to handling clients at the office, and then endure a lengthy drive to your city, only to spend his evenings with you before leaving around midnight to return to Shibuya. The only time he would stay overnight at your place was on Saturdays, and he would depart early on Sundays for work. And all this time, you had believed he had an office in your city.
Oh, God.
You loved him.
You loved him so much.
Tears welled up in your eyes at the realization of just how much he loved you. The man had gone so far as to purchase an entire building in your city just to be closer to you. He showered you with affection at every opportunity, devoted his alone time to you with undivided attention and mind-blowing orgasms, and his bank transactions were probably dedicated to you.
“I don’t deserve your kindness,” you whispered.
“Neither did I the night when we met.” Nanami’s words always had a comforting effect on you. He gently pulled you onto his lap, and you curled up like a fetus, planting a kiss on his cheekbone. “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. I love . . . God, I love you so much. I didn't realize I was capable of feeling this much love for another human until I met you. It was all locked up inside me, and you held the key all along, darling." Leaning forward, he smoothly swept his blazer and delved into the pocket, revealing a small yellow box. With trembling hands, you accepted it and opened it to find a petite, golden key inside. “Our front door is an elevator.”
Your breath hitched. “What?”
“Move in with me.”
“Kento—”
“I know. I know it's quite early to discuss this, and I want to give you the space and time to consider it. As you mentioned, your lease ends next month, and I'll officially be transitioning to remote work with a few business trips every other week. It would mean a lot to me if you decided to join me on those trips." He gently placed the key in your hand, kissing your fist. "I'm scheduled to travel to Malaysia next month."
Overpowered with emotion, you choked out a sob and immediately lunged at him with a hug, causing both of you to stumble backward as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He loved you. He wanted you to move in with him. He wanted to travel with you, starting with Malaysia. Suddenly, the tips he left in your jar took on a deeper significance, backing the idea that you weren't meant to journey alone, why you weren’t meant to go with that swindling bastard. As Nanami's gestures of kindness and service became increasingly evident, your tears welled up, choking him in a tight embrace that eventually had him laughing.
Last November, Nanami Kento had stepped into your small bakery, raindrops clinging to him, unknowingly marking his permanent presence in your life.
#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#kento nanami x reader#nanami kento x reader#nanami x reader#nanami kento#nanami x y/n#nanami x you#jujutsu kaisen nanami#jjk nanami#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen drabbles#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen x you#kento nanami#nanami kento x you#nanami kento x y/n#nanami headcanons#kento x y/n#kento nanami smut#kento x you#kento x reader#jujutsu nanami#jjk imagines#zaraswriting
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Deep in the Woods: Part 2
Pairing: Soft!Dark Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Fic Summary: A relaxing getaway in the woods may become your permanent home when you catch the eye of a lumberjack.
Part 1 | Series Masterlist | Part 3
Chapter Summary: You chat with a friend about the grumpy lumberjack and pay him a visit.
Chapter Word Count: Over 4.5k
Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, bits of MCU canon, cheating mentioned (reader's ex), grumpy x sunshine trope, invasive behavior, bits of insecurity, tension, reader is too trusting, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.
A/N: Next part of our lumberjack is here! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
Bucky didn’t make small talk when he came back to the table with his second helping. You sat for maybe a minute before you went to clean out your bowl. As pretty as he was to look at, it felt rude to sit there and watch him eat and you weren’t going to force him to chat. Standing at the sink, you felt him staring at you. He didn’t look away either when you snuck a glance at him. He looked fascinated and you couldn't imagine why.
“Do I have food on my face?” you asked, swiping at your cheek when he continued to stare.
“No.” He swallowed his last bite and licked his lips, making your cheeks warm as you looked away. “Was just looking at you.”
You glanced down at yourself, a nervous giggle bubbling up. “Not much to look at,” you mumbled, going back to get his empty bowl. “So, you said early afternoon tomorrow to go to your place. Will 1 o’clock work?”
He leaned back in his chair, nodding. “Should be fine,” he said, observing you in continued curiosity as you finished cleaning up. You weren't used to someone observing you the way he did, and you couldn't pinpoint if the feeling in your stomach was nerves or butterflies. “You trying to kick me out?”
“No,” you said, your brows pinched as you sat back down. “Does it seem like I am?”
“Just cleaning up quickly and asking about tomorrow. Seemed like you were trying to get me out of here.” He lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “I could be wrong.”
“I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.” You hadn’t exactly planned for his company, but you didn’t mind, and you weren’t trying to be a bad hostess. You almost reached across the table to touch his hand but opted to give him a soft smile instead. “It’s nice having you here.”
His gaze softened, his lips inching upward before he cleared his throat. “Any plans for the rest of the day?”
“Not really. I do have to get on my laptop for just a few minutes, but that’s it,” you answered. Since the trip was meant to be a romantic getaway and you were alone now, you didn't have much of anything planned besides relaxing. “You?”
“No,” he said, tilting his head. “Why did you say that earlier?”
“Why did I say what?” you asked.
“That you aren't much to look at,” he said, tilting his head with another tiny smile that made your knees go weak. “You’re beautiful.”
Your eyes widened, your cheeks hot. “That’s…” You thought for a second that he was joking, but his eyes were serious. The compliment was also completely unexpected, especially from a man who wasn't too welcoming a short time ago. “Thank you, Bucky, but I’m not-”
“Don’t do that. If I made you uncomfortable, just say so.” His cheek twitched and guilt churned in your stomach at the thought of upsetting him. “You don't need to brush off the compliment by trying to put yourself down.”
You looked in your lap, not wanting him to see the sadness in your eyes. Your ex should've called you beautiful, should've made you feel that way, too. And what happened? He strayed. You couldn't hold onto him. As much as you wanted to think there wasn't anything wrong with you, there was still that voice of doubt that said you weren't good enough or pretty enough. Insecurities had a tendency to seep in like poison. What was the remedy for that?
“I wasn't trying to brush off your compliment,” you promised, lifting your gaze. He didn’t look convinced and that made you feel worse. He was only being nice. “It’s just… My confidence is a little shaken and self-deprecating is a defense mechanism, I guess.”
You wanted to run to the bedroom and hide when he regarded you. Why did you tell him that? Why did you tell him anything? He wasn’t your friend or confidant, and it wasn’t fair to unload anything like that onto him.
“I’m sorry. I-”
“Don’t apologize. I understand what it's like,” he said, glancing at his metal hand. “To have your confidence shaken.”
After what he had been through, you could only imagine. “How did you pull yourself out of it?”
“Still working on that,” he replied, his eyes distant as he pushed himself up from his chair. “I should get going.”
“Oh, okay,” you smiled politely and got up to follow him to the door. While it wasn’t your intention to push him out, you may have inadvertently driven him away. “Thanks again for chopping the firewood.” It saved you a lot of trouble.
“Thanks for the meal.” He swept his eyes over you once his boots were on. “Guess we took care of each other, huh?”
“I guess we did,” you said. And you really appreciated his compliment. It felt nice after everything.
You were reminded once again just how large he was when he straightened up, your heart racing when he stood directly in front of you. That close you could smell the forest on his shirt. “Don’t touch that axe again,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. “If you need anything, you come to me.”
Your throat went dry. He was so dominant in his stance, something in his tone sending a delightful shiver down your spine. There was also a predatory shadow in his eyes that gave you pause. He could eat you alive.
Out here, all alone, he could do anything.
“Say it,” he whispered.
“If I need anything.” You had to clear your throat. “I’ll come to you.”
Bucky stepped back and took some of the warmth with him. “Lock the door tonight. I need you safe,” he said, leaving without another word.
The silence in the cabin was deafening as you were left alone. Bucky was… something. Curt at times, a bit defensive, and didn’t have regard for your personal space bubble, but you weren’t going to judge his social skills when yours were nowhere near perfect. He also seemed to like your company at least a little and was oddly protective of you.
“Probably thinks I’m just a damsel in distress,” you muttered, going to get your laptop.
You thought back to the conversation you had with Bucky. He was out here for nine months now and had a cat. And you… your stomach sank when you realized you told him you lived alone and worked from home. He already knew you were out there by yourself and you basically implied that no one would realize if you were gone. At least, not right away.
“It’s fine,” you said, pushing the weird feeling away. Bucky Barnes was a hero, and you were a stranger in his territory. It was natural that he’d have questions. You had nothing to worry about.
You decided to sit out on the porch so you could look at the picturesque view again. Part of you wondered what it would be like to live out here full time. To walk outside on a cool morning and inhale the fresh air. To see the sun rise through the trees. You wouldn’t have to worry about the bustling sounds of the city but could instead take in the quiet.
Which was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing.
You smiled when you saw Kenna’s name pop up. She was one of your oldest friends. “Hey,” you answered, putting the phone on speaker so you could continue to type. “What’s up?”
“Hey, girl. Work sucked. I’m seriously considering getting a sugar daddy.” You scoffed. She would never. She hated relying on others. “How about you? How are the woods?”
“Gorgeous,” you smiled, stopping to look around. “Sorry work sucked.”
“It’s whatever. You actually get reception out there in the woods? Nice.”
“So far, so good,” you said. You expected it to be a bit spotty, but it was fine for now.
“And you're feeling okay?” she asked with a hint of concern. “That cabin was supposed to be for-”
“I’m fine. Really.” You didn't want her to worry about that. “But I may have done something kind of stupid.”
“God, you didn't call him, did you?”
“No! No way.” You blocked his number and all social media accounts. You wanted nothing to do with him.
“Then what did you do?” she asked curiously.
“Well, there’s this kind of grumpy, really hot lumberjack who lives near the cabin I’m staying in,” you said, looking around to make sure Bucky wasn’t nearby. It looked like you were all alone. “He wasn’t exactly nice to me when we met earlier today, and I may have snapped at him a little bit.”
“You snapped at a guy who was rude to you? That doesn't sound stupid. Sounds like he deserved it.”
“Yeah, that wasn’t the stupid part,” you said, taking a breath. “I may have told him that I am here all alone for the next couple of weeks,” you blurted out, leaving out that he knew you lived alone, too, and that the grump in question was Bucky Barnes.
Your face scrunched up when you waited for Kenna’s response. “Oh, sweetie…” There it was, the condescending tone complete with a “sweetie” on top. “Why would you tell him that?”
“I don't know!” you exclaimed, lowering your voice with a sigh, “Because I’m an idiot.”
“You're not an idiot.” There was a pause on the other end. “I mean, you did kind of shine a beacon over yourself that says ‘hey, take advantage of me!’ because your self preservation skills aren’t the sharpest, but I know that wasn't your intention.”
You made a face at the phone, your fingers taping the keys harder than you needed to. “Wow. So, I am an idiot and anything that happens to me is my fault?” you asked. You were being defensive when Kenna was only being honest, which you appreciated. But being in the woods, the only thing you should have to worry about was bears, not people with bad intentions.
“No! That’s not what I meant. You just see the world in a much brighter light than most of us do, you know? You feel like you can trust people to have your best interest at heart when you open up to them because you choose to see the good. But the reality is, the world isn't that bright, and most look out for themselves first.”
“Rose colored glasses, I know,” you said, softer this time.
“Listen, I shouldn't have said you put a beacon on yourself. People who do bad things are the ones at fault, not the people they take advantage of.” There was another pause. “Maybe you won’t have to worry about this guy but try to be careful.”
“I will,” you said. You had to look out for yourself.
“And before you say more, let me guess. You were nice to the grump after you snapped at him?”
“You know me too well,” you smiled sheepishly. “I fed him.”
“Oh, God, he tasted your cooking? Yeah, you’re in danger,” Kenna teased. She always praised your cooking skills. “He’ll probably be on the doorstep every day asking for a meal and you’ll give him one.”
You giggled. “Because I’m a pushover?”
“It’s because you’re a good person, so stop with the self-deprecating,” she said. First Bucky, now Kenna. “If I could just give you some of my pessimism and you give me some of your optimism, we’d be perfect.”
“The perfect blend,” you said, though you didn't think Kenna was that pessimistic. She was just realistic.
“Also in your defense, a hot grumpy lumberjack is like something out of a romance novel. I probably would've jumped his bones.”
“Trust me, you would,” you said. Bucky was drop-dead gorgeous, and he would probably have fun with Kenna. Why did that thought make you feel sick? “He has a cat. And he said I was beautiful,” you said, your heart skipping a beat from the memory.
“Oh, he did, did he? Okay, I know I just told you to be careful, but… maybe this guy can blow your back out.” You looked around again and debated taking her off speakerphone when you thought you heard a twig snap in the distance. “I mean, you deserve multiple orgasms after what he who shall not be named put you through.”
“Kenna…” you sighed, not in the mood to discuss your ex. She never liked him but tried to tolerate him for you while you dated. You were grateful she didn’t say “told you so” when you broke up. “I just met this guy.”
“And? People go to bars and leave with people all the time. And all I’m saying is that your ex is out of the picture, and you have some wounds exposed,” she said carefully, not wanting to upset you. “So let this guy lick them clean if he offers. Let him lick something. I mean, he’s a lumberjack. He’s probably pent up and a beast in bed.”
Heat spread between your thighs before you mentally dumped a bucket of cold water on yourself. No way did Bucky want you. “So, I’m no longer supposed to be careful. I’m supposed to let him, what, fuck me?” you asked.
“Be careful and let him fuck you. Establish boundaries but have fun over the next couple of weeks. Go see his cat and then show him yours.”
You burst out laughing and covered your mouth so the sound wouldn’t echo. “You’re the worst.”
“I’m also the best,” she stated. She really was. “And who knows? This could be the start of something new.”
“I don’t think…” You sat up when another twig snapped, this one closer. You couldn’t see anything when you did a quick scan from your seat. “Hey, what would you think about coming out here for a couple of days so I’m not alone the whole time?”
There was a beat of silence on the other end. She was probably looking at her calendar. “Hmm. I’ll try to swing it with work, but no promises. I’ll keep you posted,” she said.
“Yeah, just call or text me,” you said, shutting your laptop. If she couldn’t, maybe one of your other friends wouldn’t mind spending some time away from the city. “I gotta go.”
“Me, too. Take care. Carry pepper spray. Be safe,” she said, hanging up.
You slowly went to the edge of the porch and looked around the side of the cabin. There was a good chance the sounds came from an animal nearby, maybe a deer. You could blame the chill that ran through your body on the breeze. It was getting darker though and not being able to see much beyond the nearby trees didn’t soothe your sudden nerves.
With a shake of your head, you went back inside. No one was there. You were just being paranoid.
Locking the door like Bucky instructed, you breathed a bit easier and wondered what you’d cook for him tomorrow. Something not too heavy since it was for lunch, but tasty. It was nice to have someone to cook for since the plan was to cook for two for the next two weeks.
You also thought about what Kenna said. Would there be any harm if anything transpired between you and Bucky? It would be nice to have some fun, but that wasn’t really your style. You were always a relationship kind of person. And Bucky, well, you had no clue what he wanted.
“Forget it,” you muttered.
Curling up on the sofa, your heart ached as you stared between the board games on the shelf and the small fireplace. There really wasn’t much to do by your lonesome, but there was reading. Television. And you wouldn’t put stock in Bucky spending lots of time with you while you were there. He wasn’t responsible for you.
Sniffling, you curled into yourself more. The cabin was meant to be filled with laughter, sounds of pleasure, and more. Not silence. But you’d still have a nice time. You owed it to yourself. And if anything, maybe you’d end the trip with a new friend.
You were in much better spirits when you headed to Bucky’s cabin the next day. The spring in your step was partially thanks to the good night's sleep you had after reading. The bed was extra comfortable, and you woke up bright and refreshed. You could get used to that feeling.
The other spring in your step was, well, because you were having lunch with Bucky. You didn’t want to admit how long you took to pick out an outfit in between making lunch and baking cookies. It wasn’t like you were trying to get his attention or impress him, but you still wanted to look nice and presentable. And you wouldn't allow the thought of loneliness to dampen your mood.
“Wow,” you whispered when his cabin came into sight. It was larger than the one you were in, simplistic and beautiful in design, and had a wraparound porch. You wondered how often he sat on the porch swing and if he brought Alpine out with him.
Taking a breath as you walked up the stairs, you gently knocked on the door. You didn’t know why you were nervous. It was just lunch with Bucky. A handsome, brooding-
You didn’t realize that Bucky had opened the door until you blinked, his blue eyes locked with yours. How many people cowered under his stare? He took up almost the entire door frame and a tiny sound escaped your lips when you noticed he was shirtless. The man had no shirt on.
You bit your lip involuntarily, trying your damnedest not to leer. Were you supposed to look at his massive chest? The scars on his left shoulder? The metal arm? Or was your gaze supposed to dip down past his torso to his jeans and… No. No. You weren’t supposed to stare at all.
“Right on time.” His voice was gruff, holding a hand out to take your bag. “Did you have a good night?”
“Um, yeah. Did a bit of reading and went to bed early.” His fingers touched yours when you handed the bag over and you let it linger longer than you should’ve. It wasn't like there was any tension between you two, right? “You?”
“Yeah. Uneventful,” he said before he deadpanned, “You staring at me?”
Your mouth fell open as he raised an eyebrow. Saying yes would make you look like a creep and saying no might hurt his feelings. “Well, you’re shirtless,” you answered, making a point to look away when you gestured to him. You felt kind of bad looking, but it also felt wrong to not look. As if that was an excuse. “You’re not cold?”
“It’s warm in here and I run warm as it is.” He didn’t look at all embarrassed when you snuck another glance at him. “It’s also more comfortable with the arm sometimes to go shirtless,” he explained, giving you just enough room to squeeze past him. You couldn’t stop your body from pressing against his since he didn’t provide much room and you hoped he didn’t notice the hitch in your breath. “If it bothers you-”
“This is your home and I want you comfortable,” you said, putting some distance between you once he shut the door. If he wanted to go shirtless, you wouldn’t stop him. You could deal with him and his sexiness for a short time and get through a meal.
“I appreciate that,” he said, taking your coat and purse. “Make yourself at home.”
You lingered in the living room. Rustic with the exposed wood beams, but cozy and inviting with the plush sofa and chairs. The large stone fireplace drew your attention, along with the rug in front of it. The perfect place to sit and gaze into a fire on a cold night.
You moved close to the mantle to look at the three photos that rested there. One was of the sun shining on a large body of water with trees on each side. It looked warm and peaceful.
The second was Bucky with two other men, all three of them in leather jackets. You recognized them after taking a closer look: Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, heroes just like Bucky. While they looked relaxed and happy, Bucky wasn’t smiling at all.
Was that photo taken before or after the tough mission?
But the third photo wasn’t a photo at all. It was an empty picture frame. Where was the picture?
“Wakanda.”
You jumped and spun around, nearly bumping the mantle with Bucky so close. Your racing heart didn’t go back to normal immediately. How did he move around so quietly? “Wakanda?” you repeated.
He nodded to the first picture frame. “Where that photo was taken. It was right outside of my hut, sometime after I started healing. I didn’t have any nightmares that day.” His smile was soft as he reminisced. “It was a peaceful time.”
You smiled softly, too. He deserved peace. “It’s a beautiful view,” you said. The view he had there was beautiful and peaceful, too.
“I assume you know who Steve and Sam are?” You nodded in confirmation. “That was Sam’s birthday. He made us take a picture together and insisted on framing it.” He rolled his eyes, but there was affection there that he couldn’t hide. “I only have it up here because Steve said it would hurt his feelings if I threw it out.”
You looked at the photo again. Bucky’s hair wasn’t as long as it was now and his stance wasn’t as stiff, but the brooding expression was there. “I think that’s nice,” you smiled. It was good that he had friends. “And what about that frame?”
His jaw clenched, his fingers grazing the glass. “It’ll be a family photo,” he whispered longingly. “One day.”
Your heart broke for him and the urge to soothe him skyrocketed. Before you could stop yourself you put a hand on his arm. His muscles tensed under your touch and you pulled away, regretting your action immediately. “I’m sorry I touched you.” You felt terrible. You should’ve asked. “I’m sure it’ll be a beautiful photo. A beautiful family photo for your beautiful home,” you assured him as he let out a breath. He’d have that one day like he wanted.
He leaned in close, his lips close to skimming your ear. “Your touch doesn’t bother me,” he whispered like it was a secret between you before he pulled away. If he caught you quivering, he didn’t say so. “If you think this room is beautiful, wait ‘til you see the rest of the place,” he said, leading you away and not mentioning the family photo again.
You gasped when he brought you to the kitchen, your eyes bright as you took in the room. The rustic and cozy theme continued and you wondered if Bucky built the cabinets. You envied the open concept and counterspace and you wanted to weep over the large stove. The kitchen was the heart of a home and it was very much true for Bucky’s place.
“You like it?” he asked.
“Are you kidding? I love it,” you said, running a hand along one of the counters. You didn’t miss the way his chest puffed out with pride. “My kitchen is so small, but a space like this…”
He unpacked the bag of food you brought, giving you a sideways glance. “Maybe you can cook here,” he casually stated.
Your eyes lit up. “Really?” you smiled, nearly throwing yourself into his arms. You refrained. “I can cook here?”
“Yeah, really,” he said, tucking his hair back. Standing in front of the counter, shirtless, his hair down, he looked like a wet dream. “Like I said, I’m not as good of a cook as you. It’ll be nice to get some better use out of it.”
You clapped your hands giddily and he actually smiled a full blown smile. “Thank you, Bucky. Really,” you said. You’d make something extra special. “I hope you like the sliders. I made cookies, too.”
He turned to face you, his muscles rippling as he stepped a little closer. This man really didn’t understand personal space, did he? “How did you know I wanted dessert?” he asked, that husky tone back in his voice. Was he implying… No.
It was like Kenna was both the angel and devil on your shoulders, one telling you to flirt a little, and the other telling you to play it safe. “Just a guess,” you said lightly, going for something in the middle.
You didn't feel like you could breathe properly until he stepped back. “I almost forgot…” he trailed off, sauntering from the room.
You swallowed as you stayed rooted to the spot. What did he forget about? That he was still walking around without a shirt on?
Bucky came back with a beautiful cat in his arms, and you were close to swooning. It was quite the sight seeing a shirtless Bucky Barnes holding a cat, who looked at you with a curious stare. You didn't blame her for staring. You were a stranger in her home.
“Al, this is the woman I was telling you about,” he said, making your heart flutter when he said your name. He actually talked about you to her? It didn't mean anything special. He probably told her that a new visitor was stopping by. “Can you say hi?”
Alpine gently meowed, bringing a smile to your face. Bucky smiled, too. They made quite the pair.
“You can hold out your hand for her,” he said.
You did so gently, not wanting to startle her. “Hey, Alpine,” you smiled.
Her nose tickled your fingers before she nuzzled it, urging you to pet her. You did so, which earned you a purr in response. It was nice to get her seal of approval since Bucky said she was particular with people.
“Wanna hold her?” Bucky offered.
“If she’ll let me,” you said.
As soon as you held out your arms, Alpine crawled into them. Bucky looked pleased when she got comfortable and continued to purr. “She really likes you.”
“I like her, too,” you smiled down at the feline. She was a sweetheart.
“Perfect…”
You glanced up to find Bucky holding up his phone. “Sorry. Just thought it would be a nice photo,” he said, his expression not at all apologetic as he showed you the picture he took of you holding Alpine. “You don't mind, do you?”
“Oh, no. That’s fine,” you said. Maybe he didn't have pictures of others holding her.
He glanced at the photo again and nodded. “I might have to frame this one,” he said, tucking his phone away.
Your smile wavered as he grabbed a couple of plates. That wasn't weird, was it? No. It was just a guy wanting a sweet photo of his cat.
“Let’s eat,” he said, rubbing his chiseled stomach. “I’m starving.”
We deserve a shirtless Bucky, don't we? Is that photo going in that empty frame? What do we think will happen next? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
#navybrat writes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x fem!reader#lumberjack!bucky barnes#lumberjack!bucky barnes x reader#soft!dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes au#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky x you#the winter soldier#bucky fanfic#bucky imagine#x reader#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#deep in the woods
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After Cleric March’s AI overrides HieroRelm’s systems on the planet and shuts down the landmine the Inspector is standing on,
he informs Cut and Cleric Friday that he will return … which is actually Lyman Spong speaking through the character that he will author future episodes of Inspector Spacetime.
#Inspector Spacetime#Kablooey (episode)#Leaning on the Fourth Wall (trope)#Leaning on the Fourth Wall#Lyman Spong (show runner)#Lyman Spong (writer)#Cleric March (character)#artificial intelligence#overrides the systems on the planet#HieroRelm#shuts down the landmine#on which the Inspector is standing#the Inspector (character)#Continuity Nod (trope)#Continuity Nod#informs them#Cut (character)#Cleric Friday (character)#he will return#speaking through the character#he will author future episodes#of the programme
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brother’s best friend.
pairings: lee heeseung x reader
synopsis: your brother have one rule, that is to stay away from his friends. and rules are there for you to break them.
wc: 2k
warnings: smut. mdni. p in v. brother’s bestfriend trope. smut with a plot. raw sex (please use protection) dirty talking.
note: this is a short one. it randomly came inside my head and i knew i had to write this one. please stop asking when i’m posting the updates. thank you. anyway, reblogs and replies are highly encouraged. stay safe everyone!
slutofpsh 2024 © all rights reserved.
“fuck,” a low groan emits from lee heeseung’s sexy lips as he continues rutting his thick cock deep inside you.
one of his large hands took a grip over your hip so he can go even faster. you moaned at the sensation, pleasure overwhelming for you. he just knew how to properly do it and he’s reaching every delicious part inside you.
“h-heeseung,” you moaned his name and held onto his strong arms for support. eyes tightly shut as they kept on rolling at the back of your mind.
heeseung’s eyes darted at you and smirks at the way your face beautifully contorts out of pleaser. he grabbed one of your boob then leans down to nibble on the tip, making you whimper.
he licks, suck and even bite it. making sure he leaves a mark on you. he pulls away when satisfied then dips his head towards yours to attach his hot lips to yours. he started giving you open mouthed kisses, both of you drunk of lust for each other.
your bodies connected like it was made for that. the way his dick slides in and out of you adds to the pleasure he's giving you. lee heeseung is good with a lot of things, specially on fucking you deep and hard. he’s a total expert.
“i love it when you’re being such a slut for my dick, princess.” he whispers, lips a few inches away from you. his lustful eyes staring at yours as you flutter yours open.
heeseung looked ethereal this way. hair’s messy, a few strands sticks onto his forehead due to the beads of sweat from fucking you so good. his nose touching yours affectionately.
you can’t remember for how long you’ve been doing these kind of things with him. you can’t even remember how did it even started. it shouldn’t suppose to be like this, but it just happened.
you can already feel the chills run down your spine just by imagining if ever your brother finds out you’re in bed with lee heeseung, his best friend.
heeseung kisses you on the cheek then glanced down at your connected privates. the way your cunt takes him all just drives him crazy. he used to just fantasizing about burying his cock deep inside you and to actually have him fucking you in every way he wants is fulfilling. it felt so good.
he knew it was wrong. its another level of betrayal for his best friend, but how can he resist such temptation? he’s just a human. a horny human and its getting even more uncontrollable when you’re around.
you are a walking sin for him. he tried. trust him, he really tried. but even after praying to all the saints, he just found himself on his knees and between your legs. deliciously devouring you like you’re his last meal.
“i’m c-close, h-hee.” you moaned sensually that made the grin on his face spread wider.
he loves it whenever you’re like this. a mess and very desperate for him.
“really?” and he started fucking even deeper. you nodded your head frantically, wanting so bad to reach that pleasure.
“y-yes...” your hold to his arm tightened. “please!”
“please what, princess?” he asks, taunting.
you pry your eyes open and stares at him, eyes begging. “please make m-me cum.”
he chuckles and was about to dip his head closer to you when a knock on your door slightly pulled you back to your senses.
“y/n?” the soft voice of your brother from the other side made your stomach drops. eyes bulging and heart thumping faster.
“oh my gosh! that’s my brother, hee!” you whispered at him, in panic.
“y/n?” he repeated after not hearing from you.
on the other hand, the boy hovering above you remains calm. too calm, actually. no panic can be seen from his lustrous eyes and a small smirk plays over his lips.
“calm down, princess. he won’t go inside.” he says, knowing his friend so well.
despite what he said, your chest can’t help pondering out of fear. this isn’t the most ideal position to be seen by him. he’s the sweetest brother, which makes you even scared on how he will react if he saw his best friend dicking his little sister down.
“b-but—” he interrupts and shushes you.
“just talk to him, hm?” and he leans his head, lips giving feathery kisses on your neck.
he started moving once again that strips out a moan from your lips.
“y/n? hey.” this time his tone became a lot stricter.
you heaved a sigh and tries hard to shove off the thought of heeseung’s dick currently sliding in and out from you.
“o-oppa! i’m so sorry. what is it?” you even chuckles. you bet it sounded so awkward.
“what are you doing? i’ve called like three times.” he stated, a hint of suspicion lingers through his voice.
“i was trying on some dress i bought o-online!” you made up and one hand flew on your lips to muffle a gasp.
heeseung sucks on your skin and rut his dick even faster. he’s trying to chase the orgasm both of you lost when you’re brother suddenly knocked on your door.
“oh, okay. i knocked because i ordered some pizza.” he informed you. if you aren’t in such situation where you’re being desperate to cum, you’ll be flying out from the room to devour that pizza. tho, there’s a much important thing you’re focused at the moment.
“o-okay oppa!” and lets out a stiffle moan when heeseung started hitting that spot again.
he groans on your skin, kissing and biting on it. “fuck, feels so good princess.” he whispers.
“are you okay?” your brother asks after hearing like you’re out of breath.
“y-yes! i’ll be down in a bit to join you, oppa.” you shouted, eager to get rid of him so heeseung can fuck you freely.
heeseung chuckles lightly, finding you adorable.
“okay. hurry up or it will get cold.” was his last words before you heard his steps going away from your room.
heeseung inhaled your sweet scent and pulled away slightly to look on your eyes. he smirks dangerously.
“well you heard him. we should hurry up.” he whispers and started fucking you sensely. you can feel every slide of his dick inside of you. he’s so thick and long, feels so delicious.
“i’m c-cumming, heeseung.” you moaned.
he grunts, “me too, fuck.” he curses and rests his forhead on yours.
“this pussy is mine.” he growls lowly. “you hear me?”
you mindlessly nod your head. mind too fuzzy to even comprehend what he’s saying.
“say it.” he ordered.
you didn’t respond and kept on whimpering softly under him.
“say that this pussy is mine, y/n.” he demanded.
your eyes pry open and stared at him with lust in them. “t-this pussy is yours, hee.”
a satisfied smirk spreads across his handsome face before he fucked you hard and deep. the familiar knot on your stomach made you delirious, almost making you see stars.
you came around his dick first, legs shaking and eyes rolling at the depth of your head. heeseung leans down and puts your nipple inside his mouth, trying to reach his own release. the desperation on cumming and painting your insides with his cum is poisoning his mind.
“shit.” he curses after shooting it all inside. he pulls away and attached his lips on yours.
“you did so well for me, princess.” he whispers while still sliding in and out, riding out your high together.
a small smile is what you return to him then place a kiss on his cheek. after snapping back to your senses, with slightly wobbly legs, you tried your best to pull yourself together. he casually put his clothes back and helped you with yours.
“let me fix your hair.” he chuckles and tries to run his fingers through your messy strands.
“i’ll go now. i will text you.” he says and rests both of his hands on your hips.
you nodded, “i’ll go down to my brother.”
he nods then placed a peck on your lips before exiting through your open window. he did it with so much ease that anyone who sees it can tell that isn’t the first time he did that. and just like that, lee heeseung left your room like as if he wasn’t even there.
“here.” jay, your brother places a plate of pizza in front of you.
“thank you, oppa.” then you even gave him a sweet smile.
he nods and lets you eat in peace. his eyes are carefully watching you while he eats his own slice.
“my friends will be arriving in a few minutes. we’ll play video games and you—”
“and i should stay inside my room.” you finished his own sentence that made him smirk a little.
“yes, please.”
he was clear as the crystals from the start when he warned you not to get involve with any of his friends. your brother is the sweetest and kindest brother in the whole wide universe, but he’s also very strict. he’s good in setting boundaries too.
moments later, somebody rang the doorbell and your brother left to go check it while you enjoy your pizza. now that all the lust worn out, you felt the hunger from all that activity.
you can hear some people heading to your kitchen so your eyes lifted from your phone.
“you’re early, dude.” jay says. he was the first one to enter. behind him towers lee heeseung.
“i told you, i happen to be around the area.” he reasoned out while glancing at your way.
when your gazes met, you glanced away like you’re being burned by it. his reasons to your brothers almost made you laugh. ‘happen to be around the area’ my ass, more like ‘happen to be inside your sister’s room’.
“hey, y/n.” he says then leans over the table.
jay sat down at his seat before swatting his friend’s arm. “fuck off.” he hissed strictly that earned a sexy chuckle from heeseung.
it made you gulp, instantly feeling wet down there just by hearing him laughing. it was unbelievable even for you.
“what? i was just greeting your little sister.” he says with a big smile. it may appear nothing but teasing to your brother, but lee heeseung can’t help smiling. not when he just buried his dick so deep in you and filled you with his hot cum.
the two of them got interrupted when a train of doorbells occurs on your door. jay picks up his phone.
“go inside. its open.” he ordered.
soon, a few more of his familiar friends storms inside the kitchen, crowding it. they’re goofing around and even greeted you despite receiving threatening looks from jay.
heeseung’s eyes are fixed at you, a playful smirk on his lips can’t be wiped off.
“i’ll take my pizza up to my room and i’ll watch some kdrama, oppa.” you said that almost made your brother cheer in joy.
he kissed you by the cheeks and told you to just text him if you needed anything. on the way to the staircase, your eyes caught lee heeseung and he’s giving you that meaningful look. you tried hard to ignore it and just proceeded on going back to your bedroom.
you’ve lost track on how many episodes you already watched and now you’re on tiktok, mindlessly scrolling over the feed when a faint knock from your door caught your attention.
you glanced at it shortly then eyed the wall clock. seeing that its already 1 am in the morning, it made you wonder who it was.
his friends and your brother has been at it all night after their arrival between your dinner. you can still hear them loudly from downstair so you assume it could be your brother, checking on you.
without thinking much of it, you stood up from the bed then headed towards the door.
your brows furrows hardly when you saw a familiar built standing by your door. it was slightly dark as the hallway to your room is not fully lit as its late already. but despite the lack of lights, you can tell who it was perfectly.
“what are you doing here?” you ask, a little surprise and worried. trying to peak through the door to check if he’s with someone or your brother’s around. but nobody was there.
he pushed the door wider to let himself inside and then closes it behind him.
a light gasp escapes from your mouth when he suddenly pushed your back to the door, pressing his body closer to you.
“my brother and your friends are downstairs! are you out of your mind?”
he lets out a sexy chuckle, “i sneaked out so i only have a few minutes until they notice my absence.” he informs you.
“you shouldn’t be here.” you mumble, shoulder relaxing from his soft touches. his warm hands caressing inside your shirt makes you feel dizzy.
his face leans down to your neck, his pointy big nose nuzzling and inhaling your scent.
“i know baby. but i just can’t stop thinking about last night.” he mumbles, sounding a bit desperate. “i can’t stop thinking about you.”
your lips falls open and heart thumps so loudly. one of your hand raises and plays on his hairs at the lower part of his head. his long, soft hair feels amazing through your fingers. you let out a light moan when his thick, luscious lips starts giving your neck open mouth kisses. sucking the skin.
“i can’t stop thinking about last night too” you inwardly admits and eyes shut when you felt his hand slipping inside your clothes.
“i can’t stop thinking about you too, jake.”
permanent tag-list
@stacey-stonem @love4hee
#enhypen#enhypen smut#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen hard hours#enhypen imagines#enhypen lee heeseung#enhypen heeseung smut#enhypen heeseung dark hours#enhypen heeseung x reader#enhypen jake sim#enhypen jake smut#enhypen jake dark hours#enhypen jake x reader
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Too Many Beds
main masterlist | supernatural masterlist
summary: you want nothing more than an excuse to sleep next to dean again
pairing: (pre-s1/s1) dean winchester x female reader
rating: R for language
word count: 2.1k
warnings: none really, language, bed sharing, kissing, mutual pining, idiots in love, brief mention of the death of reader’s dad
timeline: starts slightly before season one, ends near the beginning of season one
author’s note: a spin on the classic 'just one bed, what ever shall we do?' trope lol
You’d known Dean all your life, practically. You met him when you were six and he was eight; two lonely little kids stuck with absent (job-driven) fathers and baby brothers you felt responsible for. Over the course of the last eighteen-or-so years you ran into the Winchesters during hunts enough that you considered them family.
When Sam left for college you were there for Dean and when you lost your dad in a hunting accident Dean was there for you. He actually stayed with you, not wanting you to hunt alone since your brother was off at college too.
So, for the last six months you’d been hunting with Dean (who hadn’t spoken to Sam for over a year).
“One room, two queens,” Dean said to the woman behind the counter, placing “his” credit card on the space between them before sliding it toward her.
“We’re all booked up I’m afraid,” she said.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, I was actually about to turn on the no vacancy sign.”
“This is the third motel we’ve been to,” you said, “every one of them has been full—you’ve gotta have something!”
“I mean, there’s technically one room left but the heater’s out and my boss said not to let anyone sleep there because of that.”
There was a silent pause; you and Dean shared a knowing look.
“We’ll pay in cash, your boss ‘ll never know,” you told the woman. She smiled and nodded as you paid her with cash.
“Room 209, my boss gets here at ten tomorrow morning so please leave before then.” She handed you the key and you nodded in thanks.
You had underestimated just how cold the room could be, but when you unlocked and opened the door you understood why the owner didn’t want anyone staying here.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean mumbled, following you into the room and feeling the cold air. “We’re gonna freeze our asses off in here!” he quickly closed the door behind him, hoping the icy air hadn’t swept any snow into the room.
“It’s either this or we sleep in the Impala,” you shrugged, “and, no offense to your car, but it’s fuckin’ uncomfortable to sleep in.”
“And there’s only one bed,” Dean sighed.
“I’m gonna take a quick shower,” you told him, ignoring his complaints.
**
“Are you shivering or crying?” Dean asked.
You rolled over so you could meet his stare; “Shivering! It’s fuckin’ cold in here!”
“You wanna…cuddle up, maybe?” he asked hesitantly.
“Excuse me?” you laughed a little.
“Look, I’m not thrilled about it either, but it’s cold in here and unless we both wanna catch fucking pneumonia we better be smart and share body heat.”
You sighed, weighing your options; “Fine. But we never, and I mean never speak of this again, you hear me?”
“Understood.” He nodded.
You rolled back over as he scooted closer to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you into his chest.
“This okay?” he asked quietly, his lips ghosting the back of your head.
“Yeah,” you mumbled back. “Thank you, Dean.”
**
You woke up to the sound of Dean snoring loudly. You were used to his snores, sure, but he’d never been this close. He was laying on his stomach and resting on your chest; his mouth open and his hair tickling your neck. Your first reaction was annoyance but then it quickly washed away as you realized you didn’t want to move a muscle, so Dean could continue sleeping.
And the more you laid there, listening to his snores, the more you realized how comfortable you were…even in such a physically uncomfortable situation.
As the time passed and the sun began to rise, you cursed the light that was slowly but surely peeking through the curtain and onto Dean’s face.
“Morning,” he mumbled to you as he lifted his head up. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his right hand before wiping his mouth. “Sorry,” he chuckled, noticing the small spot on your gray sweater dampened with his drool.
“It’s okay,” you mumbled back. “I think it’s your sweater anyway.”
“I thought it looked familiar.”
He rolled off of you and out of bed.
You watched as he padded across the dirty carpet and over to the small kitchen. He turned on the coffee maker and the loud, off putting grinding noise made his face scrunch before he quickly shut off the (definitely broken) machine.
“So much for coffee,” he grumbled. “You gonna sit there all morning or you wanna get outta here? We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
“I’m getting up,” you replied. You would usually be annoyed at him for rushing you to wake up, but this time the annoyance was…different. Something about his bedhead, the way his lips were pouting over the lack of caffeine, and how he looked in his brown Henley and baggy sweats just made you wanna hold him again. All you wanted was to pull him back into bed with you and hold him in your arms forever.
**
You were beyond frustrated at this point. How many stupid fucking hotels had to have vacant rooms with two beds and a functional heating system!?
It had been nearly six months since you and Dean shared a bed and you had been looking for an excuse to sleep next to him ever since.
But the last couple weeks had been different—Sammy was back. Yes, you loved Sam like a brother, but you missed getting to be alone with Dean. You missed sitting shotgun in the Impala and watching him drive.
Sam definitely noticed the way you looked at Dean, but the younger Winchester didn’t say a word. Without being too obvious about it, he tried to do little things that would let you be close to his brother. He’d sit in a certain chair or part of the couch so that you and Dean had no choice but to sit together. Or he’d make some lame excuse so that he got his own room while you and Dean had to share. “I need to do some more research and I need the light, why don’t you two just sleep in the other room?” for example.
**
“Two rooms, please,” Dean said, reaching into his coat pocket for his wallet.
“Unfortunately we’ve only got one room left,” the cashier replied.
You almost couldn’t believe your ears, fucking finally!
“Oh, that’s too bad,” you faked your best frustrated look, of course Sam saw right through that.
“Well, I am not sharing with either or you,” he said with a teasing smile.
“There’s actually a pullout couch in that room, as luck would have it,” the cashier informed the three of you.
God fucking damn it, you thought to yourself.
**
It was barely after two when you felt the bed behind you dip, and you shook yourself awake.
“The hell?” you asked, still half asleep.
“The pullout couch isn’t working,” Dean mumbled quietly. “You mind sharing with me?”
You smiled a little and scooted closer into his arms, indicating you were okay with him sleeping next to you.
“Of course I don’t mind sharing with you,” you whispered and his grip tightened.
**
“I’m gonna go get breakfast,” Sam announced. “I’m assuming you want your usual?”
Dean put his right pointer finger to his lips and furrowed his brows angrily. He gestured to you as you slept and Sam got the message.
“Usual is good,” Dean whispered before Sam left.
Dean stayed laying perfectly still as you slept on his chest, soft snores escaping your lips and to Dean they were the sweetest sound.
As you stirred awake slowly, he rubbed your back a little.
“Morning,” you mumbled, a small smile on your lips. “Where’s Sam?”
“He went to grab breakfast,” Dean told you.
You furrowed your brows as you sat up, looked across the room, and realized something; “The pullout bed looks fine? I thought you said it wasn’t working?” You turned back to Dean, who had a sheepish grin growing on his lips.
“So…maybe I’ve just been looking for an excuse to sleep next to you again. Like we did back in that motel when the heat was out.”
“Really?” You attempted to hide the smile trying to find its way onto your face.
“When we were checking in last night I noticed how your face lit up when they said there was only one room left,” Dean admitted. “And I saw that disappointed look you made when they said there was a pullout couch. So, am I wrong, or have you been wanting an excuse too?”
“I really liked sleeping next to you that night,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “And you’re right, I have been hoping for another ‘oh no just one bed, guess we’ll have to share’ situation but…”
“But what?” Dean asked when you trailed off. You looked down at him.
“Dean, you and Sam have been like my brothers for as long as I can remember. I mean, Bobby practically raised all three of us and my actual brother as siblings! Your dad and my dad knew each other basically forever and I guess…I guess I figured our lives are too entangled for anything to ever actually happen between us. We’re family.”
“Chosen family, Y/n.” Dean smiled softly. “Doesn’t mean you have to be my chosen sister, you could be my chosen…you know…”
You leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his full lips.
“That,” Dean finished his previous statement.
“Let’s just keep this between us for now, okay?” you suggested. “If Sam finds out, then your dad will find out, and he’ll immediately tell my brother, then before we know it Bobby—”
“I get the picture, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled before kissing you again. He put his hands on your cheeks as he sat up. He pulled you onto his lap, your legs now straddling his hips. His hands moved to your shoulders then trailed down to your lower back as yours went into his hair. You pulled away from him after a moment, huge smiles on both your faces.
You looked into his eyes, his truly beautiful eyes, and you bit your bottom lip ever so slightly. Your right hand rested on his left cheek, your thumb stroking his skin lovingly.
“You’re awesome, Dean Winchester,” you whispered.
“You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he replied before he kissed you again. “And gorgeous, too,” he added. “You know how fuckin’ annoying it’s been, sleeping without you every night since that one time?”
“I do know, Dean, I’ve been just as annoyed about it.”
Dean kissed you one more time before he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, tucking his head into your neck. You wrapped your arms around him too, pressing your lips to his temple.
You pulled out of the hug so you could once again look at his face. Resting your forehead on his, you smiled before you kissed him again.
“Breakfast,” Sam called out as he opened the door, “is served!”
You and Dean froze for a split second before you hurried off of him.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Sam said, “did I interrupt you two?”
“What?” you scoffed. “Of course not!”
“Interrupt? There’s nothing to interrupt?” Dean added.
“Oh…wow you two are fast,” Sam mumbled, shaking his head as he made his way to the kitchen before putting the food down. “Well, pancakes, eggs, and bacon from the continental breakfast.” He gestured to the food now on the table. “Hope you’re hungry.”
As Sam sat down to eat, you looked at Dean anxiously. Say something you begged him with your eyes.
“Sammy,” Dean started as he got out of bed, “would you mind uh…not telling dad? About me and Y/n…kissing just now? When we find him, I mean.”
“Dad’s never really been invested in your love life, but he’s not an idiot,” Sam laughed.
“So…you are gonna tell him?” Dean furrowed his brows in frustration.
“Dean, he knows you two are together, it’s not some big secret?” Sam replied, shoveling more food into his mouth. “Damn that’s good.”
“Okay, just hold on—what?” Dean asked. “What do you mean dad knows? There’s been nothing to know since like four minutes ago?”
“Wait,” Sam stopped eating and fully turned to face you and his brother, “are you trying to tell me this is the first time you two have kissed?” Sam furrowed his brows deeply as you and Dean both nodded. “So…never in high school?” You shook your heads again. “That prom we crashed?”
“Sam you were there the whole time? When would we have kissed?” you asked.
“Huh,” Sam let out a laugh. “I genuinely thought you two had been a thing since like… ‘98.”
“What!?” you and Dean exclaimed in unison.
#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester comfort#dean winchester x you#dean winchester fic#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester#sam winchester#supernatural#spn#supernatural fic#supernatural fluff#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fanfic#dean x reader#by mind empty just fictional people#by jean
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Wanted: A Gentleman
Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Part 2 || Future take Summary: Your lovely group of friends, Penelope, JJ, and Emily, set you up with your perfect match Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.3k a/n: Back at it again with something miss Sabrina Carpenter inspired. The fluff idea has finally struck and I love how this ended up, even without any editing! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗 masterlist
“I’m serious!” You clarified, wiggling to get comfy on Penelope’s sofa. “It was the worst date I’ve ever been on!”
All the three girls laughed. It was Friday night, girl’s night, and you found yourself surrounded by the baddest girls Virginia could ever offer. The Powerpuff girls of the BAU as you once jokingly dubbed them—JJ being Blossom, Penelope being Bubbles, and Emily being Buttercup. Witty thinking on your part, if you say so yourself.
Having just moved into the state just a few months ago, you were grateful for the ray of sunshine that Penelope was for taking you under her wing and introducing you to a great set of girlfriends.
“It can’t be that bad—” JJ giggled as she took a sip of her newly refilled glass wine. “Can it?”
Bringing out your phone, you swiped to the screenshot Bumble profile of your date the night before. He wasn’t bad looking, not at all. He was cute in a very American boy next door type of way but then again, his profile being filled with gym pictures should have clued you in.
“We had dinner at that newly opened restaurant, Palm & Pine, which is a great place by the way, but all he ever did was talk about himself—”
Emily nodded along. “Typical macho male behavior.”
“—that wasn’t even the worst part! He brought out a scale, a portable weighing scale, to log his macro calories in a fitness app!”
Penelope chose the wrong time to take a sip of her drink causing her cough violently while the two remaining girls threw back their heads and laughed hysterically. All you could hear were gasps of weighing scale and calories between them.
“I’m all for being healthy but really? On a first date?” You crossed your arms to your chest. “At this point, I might as well get a cat or two to keep me company.”
Penelope snatched your phone and clicked to open the dating app. “Oh no no, sweetheart. You’re too beautiful and nice to end up alone. We can find you a perfect man to love and take home with!”
“Yeah, we’re profilers. Trust us to pick for you,” Emily slyly added as she peeked behind Garcia’s shoulder.
Reaching out for the opened bottle of alcohol, you sighed in defeat and let the girls do their thing. “I’m going to need copious amounts of alcohol in my system for this.”
———
It was bad. Based on all their comments and numerous swipes to the left, the dating pool was atrocious, hell on earth.
“He looks cute—” Penelope continue to scroll on his profile before making a face. “Never mind, look at that horrible grammar.”
JJ leaned in and read the poor man’s bio. “Theirs a million reasons why I’m your future boyfriend—Jesus, it’s really hard out there, huh?”
“I’d take any man who’s nice and breathes,” you laugh in despair.
Emily’s eyes twinkle from a sudden idea. Everyone had been drinking continuously and the filter had been turned off by the time the third bottle was opened. Any thought made beyond just screamed bad idea. “You know, we could just set you up with Reid.”
“Reid?” you tilted your head to the side. What kind of a name is that? Its very…unique. “You have a co-worker named Reid? As in that’s his first name?”
“No, no, no. His name is Spencer, Reid is just his last name,” JJ clarified, leaning forward with a sweet smile on her face. Oh no, you knew that look. She was very much into this.
Penelope slides your phone to you and promptly claps her hands in glee. “You’re so right! Why didn’t I think of that!”
“Right,” Emily turned to face the other two. “They’d be great for each other. Now we just have to get him to agree. JJ—” the blonde raised her eyebrows. “—can you talk to Reid about it?”
She shrugged. “I could but you know how stubborn he is.”
“I’ll blackmail him if I have to,” Penelope interjected. “Boy genius needs to meet our own girl genius. They’ll be perfect for each other, he just doesn’t know it.”
Your eyes volleyed in between the three. “Don’t I have a say in this?”
Emily tsk’ed as she turned her inquisitive dark eyes on you. “I’ll cash in on that prize I won last time.”
“No,” you breathed out, remembering how you badly lost last poker night and vowed to do any dare the winner would tell you to do.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes,” her smile growing wider and wider with each denial.
Your shoulders slumped forward. “Fine but he better be the love of my life or you owe me big time.”
“Don’t worry your pretty head. He will be,” Penelope laughed, pouring more wine in all of the glasses. “Cheers!”
———
It took three weeks before the girls were finally able to wear the mysterious Dr. Spencer Reid down and in the midst of waiting (and stubbornly hoping that he would never give in), you learned more about the boy genius than you ever wished for. How he has an IQ of 187, graduated high school at the age of 12, has 3 PhDs under his belt, and an avid reader—like yourself.
You begrudgingly admitted that he spiked your interest and having someone to talk to about books would be lovely but beyond that, you were slightly intimidated by his background which made yours, a literature degree graduate and publishing editor, seem insignificant. Penelope tried to squash that negative thought once you aired it out in the open by saying that Spencer wasn’t the type to judge anyone based on their societal standing. If anything, he’d find you interesting, she urged.
But there was one information you weren’t privy to, how he looks like. The girls didn’t want to show any photos, stating it’s best to see him face to face rather than through an image, which in turn made you imagine the worst.
You looked around, standing on the second step of the museum as you try to spot any curly, hazel haired man walking your way. He wasn’t late, you were just too anxious to be fashionably late.
Someone stopped in front of you at the bottom of the steps.
“Are you—” the doe eyed stranger cleared his throat. “Y/N? Penelope’s friend?”
Oh damn. He was beautiful.
“Yes, are you Dr. Spencer Reid?” You squeaked.
He smiled, stunning you into even more into awe. “Hi, yes. Yes, Spencer is fine.”
“Should we go inside?” You breathed out as you watched his cheeks reddened, no doubt matching the color of your own.
He nodded before slightly touching your arm to stop you in place and bending down like he was some kind of knight and shining armor and for all you knew, he could be. “Your shoelace is undone. Did you know that there’s more than 1,000 cases related to loss of footing each year and 67% of these falls were attribute to untied shoelaces?”
“We wouldn’t want to contribute to that, do we?” You quipped back as you studied how the sunlight hit his wavy locks, turning some into gold, and his doe expressive eyes with specs of green in them. Your favorite color as of today.
He laughed, his high pitched chuckle further capturing your heart. “Shall we?”
“We shall.”
Your thoughts thanking the three women for setting you up with what seemed to be a perfect gentleman.
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