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sillygoobermanlol · 1 year ago

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MIGUEL O'HARA X GN VILLAIN SPIDER READER

Miguel O’hara X GN spider reader

DISCRIPTION: You were best friends with Miguel O’hara ever since highschool. he was always a dork but he was there for you, he stood up for you, and you admired every bit of him. That is until he died, you didn’t know how to deal with his death and started working for some bad people using your spider abilities for bad bad things, until a strange portal opens up in your world.

This is legit my first time ever publishing some of my writing and it just so happens to be a Miguel fanfiction because hes been my hyperfixation for a few months now lol, I want feedback because I might not keep updating, if i do its gonna go on AO3 when I get my account. I have some good stuff planned I just wanna know if people like it so far. ^_^

Reader is GN but specifically transmasc so there MIGHT be some references to that throughout the story so idkidkidkdikddahhagagahvsgsh

Earth 1317

You were best friends with Miguel O’hara ever since highschool. he was always a dork but he was there for you, he stood up for you, and you admired every bit of him.

You have been living together for two months now, both of you had graduated and now Miguel was in college studying whatever nerds study. You weren’t to interested in Miguel’s work it always bored you in everyway but you still pretended to be interested when he ranted about it.

Miguel made his way down the hallway of your shared small apartment, he opened the door to your messy room flipping on the switch causing you to squint your eyes due to the harsh sudden light, “Dude!” you say covering your eyes. You had been searching for a job for the past few weeks in order to help Miguel with the bills but due to your piercings and careless attitude you were getting nowhere, he had offered to help you look.

“I’ve got good news do you wanna hear it or not?” he said leaning on the door frame, you snarled, you hated when he dangled information over your head. “sure whatever.” you huffed, fidgeting with your hands, “good. because Alchemax desperately needs a janitor, they will pretty much take anyone at this rate.” he said with a tone that almost made you laugh. You weren’t too crazy about the idea of being a JANITOR the idea made your head hurt, don’t the nerds at Alchemax keep the place clean enough? you thought. “A janitor??” you groaned,

Miguel furrowed his eyebrows, “You don’t have many options, plus I think this could be a good learning experience for you” he said gesturing to your room, you threw a pillow at him. “you’re such an ass,” you said holding back a smile, “But seriously, this is the ONLY thing you could find?” you pouted, he said your name sternly “You need this. plus I get to see you at work,” his expression softened to something more empathetic.

You sighed finding his expression convincing, “yeah okay.” you mumbled, “Look I know this isn’t the most exciting job, but you’re gonna be fine,” he sat on your bed causing the mattress to sink with him, “I know.” you looked up at him, dark circles under his eyes from countless nights of intense researching, he wore square black glasses and his eyes were a deep brown. you slumped on your bed looking up at the ceiling, “I just wish it were better you know?”

“It will, I swear we just have to give it time.” he said softly, you smiled at him. “Yeah alright O’hara I just better not be cleaning up any shit.”

The next day Miguel woke you up, he wakes up earlier then you for work and you hated this. He watched you with a cup of coffee in his hand as you struggled groggily through your morning, you brushed your teeth and angrily at your cereal. when It was finally time to leave you both walked to the bus stop because neither of you had a car. Miguel thought this was a good opportunity for exercise, and of course you hated this. he was always a pretty muscular guy considering the fact that he was always hidden away in his lab, he was also tall and caught the attention of a lot of people but never seemed to return it.

You arrived at Alchemax, the place was fucking massive. people in lab coats swarming the place, you thought about running as fast as you could out of there but remembered your conversation with Miguel. He also wore a lab coat that went down to the back of his knees, Miguel greeted more of his nerdy work buddies as the both of you made your way inside the building. In the hallways you could see inside the labs, every room made for something different. Miguel had to pull you away from some of them urging you to continue the tour he was giving you.

As you walked down the hallway there were tables holding more sciencey stuff, you reached out to touch but Miguel grabbed your hand. “Okay, ground rules. DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING or even THINK about it either, got it?” he said sternly, “ohhkayyyyy.” you mocked him, “I’m serious, this place isn’t a joke.” he said continuing to walk, you caught up with him, “Well im gunna need to touch things if I’m gonna work here,” you smiled. “Don’t be a smartass,” he said pointing a finger at you.

You stopped at a door where Miguel took out some keys, it must’ve been his lab. He flipped on the lights and it wasn’t nearly as exciting as the others were, “Alright, stay here I'll bring in my boss so he can meet you, then you can start cleaning up the shit or whatever,” he explained. You huffed at that last line, “yup.” you said holding up a thumb slumping in one of his rolley chairs. He made his way to the door you both entered in and turned to face you again “Don’t fuck this up,” he said pointing at you.

When he left the room was quiet, tooooo quiet. You spun around in the chair Miguel’s words ringing in your ears “Dont fuck this up.” I wouldn’t fuck this up you thought, but your boredom was starting to get the best of you. You got up from the chair roaming around Miguel’s lab, lots of paper work you thought. Your eyes finally made your way to the door, he wouldn’t be mad if I just peaked into another room right?

And you did just that, most rooms had more lab nerds in them but a dark room peaked your interest. The door was left open, this is totally not sketchy you thought. Nobody was in this room, in the dark you could see the glistening of test tubes, you squatted down to one of them. Spiders. A shit ton of them too ,you rested your hands on the table not noticing the little critter that crawled onto your hand exploring your fingers until it found a place to BITE. The pain caught your attention you shook your hands sucking the air in through your teeth.

Seconds after Miguel burst into the room “What are you doing? I told you to stay!” he scolded dragging you out of the room, he pinched the bridge of his nose lifting his glasses in the process. You were still holding your bitten hand feeling guilty now, “¿Qué voy a hacer contigo?” he sighed. You knew he was pissed when he spoke in Spanish.

“Look I’m sorry, can we just go?” you said almost teary eyed, the meeting with Miguel’s boss was boring for the most part other then the fact that you couldn’t stop sweating. You felt tired all of a sudden blaming it on the fact that you had woken up so early, when you got home you basically jumped face first onto your bed. You had gotten the job, you were happy but something just didn’t feel right. Miguel was kinda pissed at you for running off too, and you didn’t blame him, you slept the rest of the day away.

The next morning the light peaking through your curtains felt more intense, you groaned and covered your face with your blanket. It had felt like you had ridden 100 roller coasters, when you uncovered your face again it felt worse. Your ears rang and you were so sweaty, your door opened, that sound even was louder than usual. It was Miguel, “alright sleepyhead time for work,” he said tugging at your blanket. “Miguel, it feels like im gunna puke,” you whined, he said your name “Please no excuses, it’s your first day get up.” he said less playfully, but after seeing the beads of sweat on your forehead he moved closer.

He placed a hand on your head, “Jesus, your burning up.” his voice now a whisper, when he removed his hand he sighed and rubbed his face, “You’re lucky my boss liked you, I can cover for you but just this once okay?” his voice sounded empathetic but stern, you nodded your head.

About an hour after Miguel left you finally got the strength to roll out of bed, mostly because you were so oddly hungry. You made your way to the kitchen closing every single curtain until it was dark enough for you, grabbing the milk you sat it on the table now reaching for your favorite cereal you pour a good amount before attempting to put the box down realizing it was completely stuck to your hand.

You struggle a bit, shaking your hands frantically causing cereal to fly everywhere, you slip on a few pieces of cereal and now you’re on the floor and magically the box is now unstuck from your hands landing right on your face. You lay there for a few seconds trying to process whatever the fuck just happened, you lift your hands to your face closely observing them. “What the actual fuck.” you whisper to yourself.

The rest of the day was even weirder, more stuff sticking to your hands, you even caught a fucking fly in mid air, What was going on with you? Later on in the day you decided to get some fresh air, you needed to think, maybe you were going crazy? After your walk you made your way back home, catching Miguel entering your apartment at the same time as you were, he notices you, “Don’t tell me that whole sick thing this morning was just to get out of work.” he grumbled staring directly at you, you stood there not really knowing what to say.

Should you tell him? every thought raced through your head, yet all that came out was “No, im just feeling better maybe it was just a bug.” you say walking past him into your apartment, your tone worried him, Miguel headed in after you. He sighed putting down his bag so he could tend to you, “Okay, what’s going on with you? he said softly, you shrugged with your hands still in your pockets while looking down at the floor. “You know I care about you right, you can talk to me. I know I can be so….strong at times, but I care I really do.” it almost sounded like he was scolding you, his words were strong and you knew he meant what he said, they must’ve really pulled at your heartstrings because the next thing you know you were in tears.

Miguel was by your side as you sobbed, holding you close to his chest. “I just…don’t know whats wrong with me.” you said in between sobs, “There’s nothing wrong with you, tonto,” he slowly rocked you back and fourth until you calmed down. “Thank you,” you said wiping your eyes with your sleeve, you wouldn't know what you'd do if he weren't here. you both were on the couch now as he held you, “I’m always gonna be here for you, just like you’re always there for me, alright?” he said with a warm smile.

And he was, all the way until the end.

#miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #gn reader #transmasc reader #Miguel x transmasc reader #miguel x gn reader #miguel x you #into the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman miguel #miggy #miguel o'hara x male reader #mlm fiction #spiderverse #miguel o'hara x ftm reader #ftm reader

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ashsostrange · 1 year ago

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I'm honestly surprised at the amount of people who are still supporting him.He's got his little ((whats left of them at least)) fan base wrapped around his fingers.

“ He’s a minor he cant think for himself, his brain ain't developed!!” “ You don't know what it's like for him at home!” my fav so far “y'all are ablest and racist!! Yall don't care about black people!”

Bitch no one gives a fuck that he is black!! Motherfucker is telling people/threatening to eat glass to get away from what he's said to people. Calling someone out for gaslighting and trying to manipulate people with that shit ain't racist. Also using self diagnosis and laying about taking pill that will “get you high” as a way to get out of all his call outs. This is the stupidest shit I have seen while being on tumblr for the past three or so years like damn!!💆🏾‍♀️

perioddd!! lemme talk my shit again

i honestly giggled when his bf tried to say “y’all hate black people” when pretty much everyone speaking on him is black. why would i do that bc he’s black?? i’m black, not to mention a darskin girl. do with that info what you will.

ppl wna make us seem like bullies so bad. this isn’t just about what happened w catty, hell, it’s hardly about her at all! it’s ab his behavior in general. it’s inappropriate! if he would’ve just owned up, there wouldn’t have been a problem. i’m not obsessed w this nigga, i don’t care to go out of my way to make a post ab him everyday. he’s the one who escalated this further. he only wants us to “mind our business” when we’re not coming for his neck.

ab his mental health, if he doesn’t have a real diagnosis, he needs to not claim mental illnesses like that, but rather acknowledge that something is wrong with him. if you make a mistake, you need to not blame every damn thing on your said mental illness. if anything it’s a justification, but never an excuse. take the initiative to look at yourself and decide if you’re in the right headspace to be on the internet or not. i struggle with mental health, but not in the way he allegedly does. if ik i’m not in the right headspace for something, i step away. he needs to do that. and invest in a diary.

i genuinely don’t know why people are defending him when he did this to himself. if woulda stopped riding my dick like beyoncé rode that surfboard, then maybe we wouldn’t be here right now. accountability isn’t a bad thing. we’ve all made mistakes. i know i’ve made many, it’s about how you address them that matters.

i was literally defending his lame ass when he was sending inboxes as an anon to cause more mess between these two girls. yao was saying he was behind the anon and obv i didn’t believe her bc it wasn’t making sense to me at the time, and there was no real way to prove it. but then he started sending her hella inboxes and tagged all his mutuals saying “war has begun” a whole day later. when i tell you i showed one of my bsfs that post and we LAUGHEDD 🤣🤣🤣 nigga this is tumblrrrr, not a battlefield! from that day i’ve been watching him lmao. didn’t wna say anything about his behavior until i gathered more info cuz i’m not a mean girl (and didn’t want his army bombarding my inbox), but this is ridiculous.

and i’m so glad lia dmed me one day so we could discuss his weirdness. we literally played his ass and he didn’t know. bro was sending her msgs talking ab “i liked your new fic, but you blocked me” and he was the only one she had blocked recently. he sent so many hateful msgs under anon after that, nd he was reblogging it acting like it wasn’t him like… ok weird nigga.

i’m not ableist or “racist” (i’m literally fucking black!) fuck i gotta b ableist for? i’m the last person to rock w any kind of tomfoolery, and all my mutuals and irls know that. i’m unapologetically me on this blog. what you see is who i am.

“he’s a minor!!” so are the rest of us dealing with his bs bro. i’m literally SIXTEEN 😭

like i said, in most situations, if multiple people (with good morals) are telling you that you’re wrong, you can’t be right. i was never disrespectful with him to begin with. you get disrespectful with me, i get disrespectful with you. don’t care who you are ✌️like thank yewww

#ash spills 🌺

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avictimofthejazz · 11 months ago

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⏳ For Face ...

Face rolled his eyes at the group of younger men shoving and pushing their way around the bar. Comfortably into his thirties now, he enjoyed the smug confidence that came with viewing anyone, man or woman, under twenty-five as mere infants. The fact that he recognized the fraternity pin most of the men were sporting on their jacket lapels did little to change his assessment of their general character.

The last time he saw his own pin, he was giving it back to Lesl—Sister Teresa—and telling her to hang onto it. It seemed like the right thing to do. He had no more use for it, and he had always intended to give it to her anyways. The senior bartender mirrored Face’s expression as he walked over to check on the younger man’s barely diminished scotch and soda. “You’re the slowest drinker I ever met, Peck.” He used the younger man’s last name with a trace of fondness. “George, if I’m going to spend this much money on Glenfarclas, I intend to savor it.” Face glanced toward the fraternity boys before wryly adding, “I’ve outgrown buying the cheapest liquor I possibly can just to get drunk—or trying to impress the other guys by buying something I think is classy simply because it has an expensive price tag on it.” George snorted. “I was running this place before you knew how to tie your shoes, Peck. In fact, I remember you coming in with your fraternity a few times while you were in college.” The old man narrowed his eyes, “Weren’t you in this same one? You came in a few times with a pretty blonde too—you had a bad case of puppy eyes for her back then. What happened to her? I know I’m not on your regular date-spot list, so these days I only see you alone or with that brunette reporter you’ve been running around with. I haven’t seen the other one since before you went running off to ‘Nam.” “She became a nun.” “You’re joking.” “No,” Face laughed, the sound surprising him after spending so many years in torment over Leslie’s disappearance. “I’m not joking. She’s Sister Teresa now, and she’s working in an orphanage in Ecuador. She’s the one that has my fraternity pin—she tried to return it and I told her to hang onto it.”

George shook his head. “Does that higher calling have anything to do with why you vanished so abruptly back in 1969?”

“Everything, actually.” Face took another sip of his drink, savoring the complex flavors of the scotch before swallowing. “How do you remember anything about that though?”

“Oh,” George waved his hand, “Your fraternity brothers made fun of you for about six months. Every time they came in here, there were a lot of mock toasts to your service in Vietnam, and why you left the so-called Brotherhood. It was pretty pathetic, all said.”

Face grimaced, glancing down at his glass for a minute before picking it up, and studying the amber liquid inside. “I’m not surprised. Most of those guys were pricks. Wouldn’t let a guy sleep, had a hell of a time getting space to do my homework unless I hid in the library, were always throwing wild parties—”

George cut him off with a casual wave of his hand, “If they annoyed you so much, why’d you waste time joining in the first place? Or did they present a better front to the new guys, until they suckered you in?”

“I had a rough idea what I was getting into,” Face admitted quietly, glancing at the younger men again. “But I wanted the social clout that came with being part of that fraternity. I picked it out very carefully, and spent a good deal of time smoothing my way into joining their selective ranks.” Spotting the disbelieving look George leveled on him, Face made a vague gesture.

“Come on, I came from the orphanage, and I got in on a mathematics scholarship to study accounting. Sure, I played football in high school, but so did half the guys there. It didn’t mean anything once I hit UCLA. When the tools I had, I wasn’t exactly lining myself up for a dazzling social life in college unless I made connections. I didn’t have to like the guys. I just had to tolerate them long enough to reap the benefits of their connections, and pretend I was like them.”

George shook his head, “I guess you didn’t shed too many tears when you left then?”

“Not for the fraternity at any rate.” “Then if you had been able to finish your degree, you wouldn’t have gone back and re-joined?” “Of course not!” Face announced disdainfully. “They’d have never let Murdock around, deciding he was too much of a weirdo… and I really cannot stay anywhere for long that won’t allow Murdock past the front door. Someone’s got to sit up with him, and watch late night monster movies about aliens that look like shag rugs.” George grinned, “Besides, Murdock’s better company than those yuppies there. Maybe not as well-connected…” “I wouldn’t say that.” Face tilted his head, “I’ve met a lot of VA nurses through him—and as long as they’re not the night nurses, it’s generally safe.” George snorted, raising his hand to acknowledge a call for more service from the fraternity. “Those are the connections that matter, Peck. A good date’s a lot more fun than running around with a bunch of rich, spoiled brats. A good wife’s even better.” Face winced faintly, a forlorn glint slipping into his eyes before sliding out again. “Let me get my legal issues sorted out. Then I’ll worry about a wife.” “I’ll bet you end up with that brunette you keep bringing in here. Take it from an old man—I’ve always looked at my Helen the way you look at her.” George took off to answer the repeated call for service before Face, properly flabbergasted by the older man’s statement, could get his voice back and craft an answer. Taking another sip of his scotch, Face shook his head and rolled his eyes. Time to find a quieter corner to finish his drink, before the fraternity kids spread out too far, or George decided to make more harebrained predictions.

#Muse: Templeton 'Faceman' Peck #Hints of Face/Amy #and hints of Face & Murdock broship #Since you're not an RP partner #you get a short story clip XD #Glenfarclas is a type of Scottish scotch whiskey #I hope you enjoy #Thanks!

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omegaremix · 9 months ago

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Academy Annex, 2022.

I had a moment thinking about keeping my music-collecting quotient up, specifically in the areas of noise rock, noise, post-punk / d.i.y., cassettes, and other diamond finds I played on Omega WUSB. One example: Wharf Cat Records stands as one of my all-time favorite labels and it helps that they’re from Brooklyn, New York City. For some reason they have this inexplicable aesthetic to them. You know where it’s from but what and how, exactly? From what I’ve seen, it feels like it’s part of the upper-echelon of obscure music and style like where Ascetic House sits right now. There was something about Boulders’ Rock N Roll Will Never Die that stuck in the back of my mind; their sound, vision, artwork, their origins and what surrounds it. Tommy Conte and Cameron Worden’s world is far and away from what’s out there and it’s what I look for in all things Omega.

So I was curious to see what the going price for the album went for on Discogs: less than $3.00. Why can’t I have it for that price? Academy Annex was selling it, so I also checked out what else they had. David Vassalotti’s Broken Rope and Water From Your Eyes’ Structure, also Wharf Cat releases, were sold for less than $6.00 each. Then something else caught my eye: two Chondritic Sound cassettes from JS Aurelius and Believer/Law (if you know Uniform-related matters). Throw in some hip-hop singles and a couple of jazz / fusion records and that’s $45.00 well spent including shipping and New York State bloodsucker tax. Academy Annex also had another separate Discogs account where I found York Factory Complaint’s Lost In The Spectacle (more Uniform-related matters) and other releases from Nick Klein, Vagra, and Sleaford Mods. That’s another $31.00 and the second of two shipments Academy sent to me. Only Brooklyn record stores had been carrying the good stuff that my other island record stores wouldn’t even imagine carrying. “That’s it” I said. A visit to their physical store was in order.

It’s the final day of February. Since the beginning of the month I had hoped to visit Academy Annex in Greenpoint. I had this urge for years to take the train on a wintry Sunday because I had those great feelings only a few years ago. Anxiety does get in the way and then you stay local but productive. In the right now those feelings still linger on because those recent Winters provided some sentimental soundtracks, and I always wanted to get that specific Brooklyn experience out of my system. It had something to do with former follower and interest of mine who lived there, and it stands forever a ‘what-if’ every time I walk through Greenpoint because she’s no longer in the picture. It was finally time to go.

Academy Annex touted itself as Brooklyn’s largest independent record store. You walk in and you won’t believe it. Compared to my island record stores, Academy was pretty small. Remember, this is Greenpoint, a hipster fantasy land. Tenants and store owners are being hit up for twice as much and get half in return of what everyone else has. I take a few seconds to slow down to see that this place is a mess. There’s an upstairs balcony full of junk and beams that yell ‘under renovation’ where co-workers sort out new stock and is off limits to their customers. Stacks of boxes are plentiful and all over the place. Behind the counter are tattered walls, newspaper clippings, various old merchandise and ornaments hung up on the wall. To the right are other columns of half-empty bins. In front of it is a near-empty old glass display occupied by a hand puppet and a pair of old boots. How much are they paying per month to live inside that case? On the brighter side, vinyl occupies 99% of the store and they have their hand in everything. Soul, blues, and jazz? Check. Metal, new wave, and hip-hop singles? It’s there. African, Eastern Brazil, Latin, reggae, New York / New Jersey house and techno? Got it. Look even harder and you’ll find a very distinct category of their own: ‘horoscope’. How sweet.

Right as I enter, the cassette bins are to my right. I immediately grabbed tapes from Keith Murray, Grand Puba, Boogie Down Productions, The Ultramagnetic MC’s, Terminator X, and Apache. After my tape grab, I look up and find a crate-diggers dream: Wee’s You Can Fly On My Aeroplane. Numero Group re-issued it on white vinyl. Never would I imagine finding anything like that in relation to what surrounds my single-digit Brooklyn youth. Wee is a gold example of what I look for in terms of crate-digging and vinyl treasures and those can be found on Omega WUSB’s bonus broadcasts. I’m not even five minutes in the store and already I’m at $50.00. Let’s see how much faster the total goes up.

Right below the cassette shelves are the CD bins. Five each or three for ten. They would be the least expensive finds Academy offered to thin the bill. The hip-hop still continued with 3rd Bass and a still-sealed Dead Prez RBG. Other wild cards included Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, Tom Tom Club, Rollins Band, and The Men’s Drift; one of two Sacred Bones records I’d nab. Most importantly, I got my hands on Depeche Mode’s Some Great Reward. One of my most valuable allies / followers here have re-introduced me to them. I told her that if I found any in my travels, I’d take it home. No questions asked. (At this moment of writing, we’re discussing it.)

I’m not one for 7″ records or 45′s unless it’s punk or hardcore. They had one box dedicated to them amongst a section of at least 25 boxes of cheap pop, soul, R&B, and other stuff. Hello, Brandy’s “Clown Pain” 7″. We meet again. This time for $9.00 as opposed to Rough Trade’s asking price of $15.00. This is the d.i.y. stuff I dream about having in my hands. Grabbed some Antiseen on translucent magenta vinyl, Poison Girls, Spizzenergi’s “Soldier Soldier” (a fun one we played one summer on Omega WUSB), Asshole Parade, and Jayne County & The Electric Chairs in solidarity with Long Island punk luminary Jimi LaLumia. I also got Martin Atkin’s Brian Brain project, Love Child Plays Moondog, and Ingstangd which looked like some pretty serious shit. On the subject of Swedish punk bands, no Totalitar. Fuck!

Now the LP’s. Academy is considered a collector store. They buy collections for top dollar, grade each record, fit them in plastic sleeves and put them out. Plenty of arrivals can be found for less than ten dollars. It’s the new releases, re-pressings, and new old stock that could potentially hurt your wallet. Add the fact that it’s a city store and Brooklyn’s rent prices are well-documented, and you can’t help to think that their prices are tough but fair on their end - sometimes. I thumbed through their hip-hop / rap singles section and couldn’t justify paying more than three dollars for something I can buy for a dollar from my island stores. Some of those singles apexed at $40.00. No. Thank. You. There were plenty of punk records from The Plasmatics, Subhumans UK, The Fall, and other acts but at $20.00 or more I had to pass. But it was some of the later vinyl grabs that made for some astonishing moments.

It was when I thumbed through their experimental section that there was no passing up two Throbbing Gristle records, Greatest Hits and Heathen Earth, a title I gave up once when Centereach’s None Of The Above was in existence. I finally have it and on blue vinyl. Those two Throbbing Gristle albums were a must-grab as I almost never see their titles anywhere. At $28.00 each, it was worth it. On that note, I wasn’t expecting finding a re-press of Robert Rental’s Paralysis e.p. Not exactly Thomas Leer & Rental’s The Bridge, but I’ll take anything. Micro-Phonies was the only Cabaret Voltaire album the store carried and that came with a $20.00 hit. After letting The Crackdown slip a few years ago, I took no chances. It still stings me to this day.

To my surprise, I found Sweeping Promise’s Hunger For A Way Out for $21.00. That’s now off my diamond list. It was that moment in which I re-considered Pure Hell for $24.00 because I asked if I really needed it, but thankfully I changed my mind. They had several copies of Shocked Minds and grabbed the least expensive one and on clear orange vinyl for five. Yves/Son/Ace was the only 12″ wild card I took home; purchased it on sight based on the attractive album cover and not knowing who they were. And I don’t know how this always happens, but I always find Excepter albums on vinyl for less than five dollars. This one? Self Destruction.

I could not not pass up the jazz / fusion and soul section, or anything sample-related any time I’m in a store. Digging through those shelves gave me the biggest shock of the night: Lonnie Liston Smith & The Cosmic Echoes’ Astral Traveling. That record has some songs on it that literally changed my life one turn-of-the-millennium summer overnight listening to WUSB, and it was one of the last Smith titles I needed.

But not all vinyl sections bled me dry. They have alphabetized columns and then eight shelves of new arrivals out in front of the store. The other Sacred bones record, Marissa Nadler’s For My Crimes was acquired for $12.00 and she’s only one of very few vocalists I’m into. No Parade’s Ceaseless Fire and George Benson’s Livin’ Inside Your Love were also had for five each.

That’s it. I’m done. Thirty minutes to closing and I’m spent. Time to cash out. I place my entire stack on the counter with the skinny timid young lady awaits. Of course, her name is Sarah. She tallied up the vinyl records as normal until she saw the Brandy 7″. She gave it to me for four instead of nine because the store had plenty of copies and wanted to get rid of them. She also gave me the stack of CDs for free because she saw I was buying a lot. I never ask for any discounts and felt bad that she did. I told her she didn’t have to do it because I want these independent record stores stay in business, but she kept on insisting. I sighed and gave up, but I’ll admit it was nice of her to do that even though she didn’t have to.

Total cost: $311.00, about $100.00 less than what I spent last Spring at (formerly Williamsburg’s) Rough Trade. Why does every Brooklyn record store excursion have to fucking run my pockets? I already answered that question here. Then again, Academy Annex wasn’t like Plainview’s Vinyl Bay 777 where everything was graded and priced so high that I felt hopeless walking out. Not really the case here. WUSB’sJ-Ro advised me that as a customer I would be playing their grading game because they knew their stuff and how much their stock was worth. But I just had two tax refunds hit my savings and I had the money, but you still want to be cost conscious.

The trip to Academy and the train ride back to Central Islip was the only way I’d end the Winter proper. It seems like I always make a visit to Brooklyn near or on the February / March border, and it only takes a second time to make it a regular thing. Lord only knows what city store I’ll hit up next year around this time, but I’m more focused on what will unfold in the next few months. You’ll know sooner than later.

Brandy: “Clown Pain” 7″

Spizzenergi: “Soldier Soldier” 7″

Asshole Parade: Asshole Parade 7″

Wayne County & The Electric Chairs: “Fuck Off” b/w “On The Crest” 7″

Brian Brain: “Jive 7″

Poison Girls: “One Good Reason” 7″

Antiseen: “We Got This Far (Without You)” b/w “(We Will Not) Remember You” 7″

Instangd: Mitt Svar Pa Ingenting 7″

Love Child: Love Child Plays Moondog 7″

Throbbing Gristle: Greatest Hits 12″

Wee: You Can Fly On My Airplane white vinyl 12″

Yves/Son/Ace: “Parade Of Thoughts” b/w “Can’t Sleep” 12″

Lonnie Liston Smith & The Cosmic Echoes: Astral Travelling 12″

Sweeping Promises: Hunger For A Way Out 12″

Throbbing Gristle: Heathen Earth blue vinyl 12″

Robert Rental: Paralysis e.p. 12″

Shocked Minds: self-titled translucent orange 12″

Excepter: Self Destruction 12″

Pure Hell: Noise Addiction 12″

George Benson: Livin’ Inside Your Love 12″

Merissa Nadler: For My Crimes 12″

Cabaret Voltaire: Micro-Phonies 12″

No Parade: Ceaseless Fire 12″

Boogie Down Productions: By All Means Necessary CS

Apache: self-titled CS

Grand Puba: Reel To Reel CS

Keith Murray: The Most Beautifullest Thing In This World CS

Terminator X: & The Valley Of The Jeep Beats CS

Ultramagnetic M.C.’s, The: Fruits Of Nature CS

Depeche Mode: Some Great Reward CD

Tom Tom Club: self-titled CD

Rollins Band: The End Of Silence CD

3rd Bass: Derelicts Of Dialect CD

Dead Prez: RBG CD

Men, The: Drift CD

John Spencer Blues Explosion, The: Acme CD

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maverickrojas · 11 months ago

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A sunny disposition only got you so far in life, particularly when the world was hellbent on tearing you down and reminding you how unwelcome you were. Maverick’s work over the years accounted for him being switched on, so to speak. Working with teens and underprivileged kids, largely those belonging to minority groups, meant knowing just what it was that made the younger generations tick. If he needed to connect with a 15-year-old queer kid from Alabama stuck in a Juvenile Detention Center for possession of a weapon or drunk and disorderly conduct, he needed an understanding of what might have strayed them off the beaten track to begin with.

This meant that Maverick was all too aware of the statistics on LGBT+ hate crimes, for example. In 2022 there’d been an increase in LGBT+ hate crimes by a whopping 19% from the year prior. His heart had been crushed upon learning the statistic, a shudder down his spine sending him catatonic for several minutes as he’d tried to process the information. And yet, it somehow got worse; another increase this year of 13.8% based on sexual identity, a 32.9% increase on attacks based around gender expression. Every single day Maverick thought of Abigail, of what he could have done, how he could make the world safe for her, and then numbers like these would drop and shatter every last bit of hope he had. If Abigail had thought the world too cruel in 1997, what would she think of it now? Would she see the good? Would his sister embrace the small changes, hold them up and magnify them in whatever way she could, holding out for more in the future? Or would she read stories of Brainna Ghey and O’Shae Sibley and feel as though they’d taken twelve steps back, the same way that Maverick felt today.

He couldn’t know, of course. It was no use dwelling on and ifs and maybes, pointless trying to imagine what could have been. Which is why Maverick found himself sitting in a bar on Christmas Eve – Abigail’s 45th birthday to be precise – drinking himself silly by way of distraction, and talking the ear off of the very pretty bartender where Wardo’s curious friend Ivy worked.

He had never been much of a drinker, which meant that any time he happened to indulge he ended up either talking incessantly at some poor stranger until their eyes fluttered shut and they fell into the deepest sleep of their lives or stumbling into bed with a nameless, faceless gent who’d have him out the door before the clock struck midnight. Tonight seemed to be the former, the gorgeous man behind the bar currently staring at him with unmasked confusion, an arched brow directed at Mav as he absently wiped a glass with a dishtowel.

“And so, the long an’ short of it is, I don’t know who li’l Ivy’s big, bad boss is,” he mused, his words slurring, cheeks flushed. “But I’ve been led to believe that Wardo – that's my kid... of sorts – supposedly had an affair with Ivy’s boss's wife. Her name is Helen.”

Mav shook his head, as equally perplexed by the information he was sharing as the man staring back at him. Truth be told, as naughty as it was, Maverick enjoyed a good ol’ gossip. And while he wasn’t one to be airing people’s dirty laundry, his inhibitions went out the window ever so slightly when he’d had a drink or two, and Ivy had been sharing her drama all over twitter, for reasons he couldn’t fathom. It seemed lost on him, in his tipsy haze, that he was currently spewing gossip to Ivy’s coworker, in her workplace, where Helen’s very own husband could be lurking just around the corner.

“Twitter, my friend, is a confusin’ place. But how else is an ol' timer such as m'self meant to keep up with the kiddos these days, hm?”

#thread: rafferty1 #ft. rafferty #cw: homophobia #cw: transphobia #cw: hate crimes

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gosmigenergy · 1 month ago

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KINKTOBER 2024 / Day Eight

FLOGGING / SWALLOWING / COCK WARMING (@absurdthirst)

Starring: Maxwell Lord x F!Reader

Summary: When the pair of you end up trapped in an online meeting, Maxwell comes up with a perfect way to keep you entertained.

Rating: Mature-ish

Warnings: No use of Y/N, language, P in V (there’s no sex but please use protection in real life, thank you), cock warming

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Notes: Ok, so this is a little modern day setting and is more of a representation of if Maxwell was big CEO.

Being called into Maxwell Lord’s office was a regular occurrence. Though you were considered an intern, you did plenty for him. Your job description only included his admin and screening his calls, a minimum of two coffee runs a day.

On your first shift, he told you not to be nervous and that only made you more so. He was patient with you unlike any other of his staff, your colleagues said that maybe he actually liked you. Two weeks in, Maxwell insisted you buy yourself a drink on the company card to accompany his triple shot espresso.

“I dunno what he sees in you,” a colleague said, looking you up and down.

Fortunately, you didn’t see it either.

You noticed how all the other women dressed in the Black Gold offices. Sheer shirts and blouses, skirts that cinched them in at the waist, heels with the highest stilettos possible. You chose to go minimal and comfortable, your smallest shoe a kitten heel.

It wasn’t long until you elevated your wardrobe, adding a touch more makeup to your routine but not too much. You still looked like yourself and Maxwell’s eyes continued to follow you while you worked.

There were many reasons why Maxwell liked you. He secretly thinks he shaped you from the shy, softly spoken girl to the confident woman you had become. You were well mannered, forceful if you needed to be, always got his lunch order right and to put the cherry on top, weren’t vying for his attention.

However, it only made you more desirable.

You had noticed how he took care of you, most of all at the office party. A guy from accounts wouldn’t stop harassing you, you shrugged him off but he wouldn’t let it go. When you went to leave, he followed you until Maxwell caught up with him.

You never saw him again.

Part of you knew he had been fired, that Maxwell wouldn’t have stooped so low as to get his goons to beat him to death, you wished he had though.

“Thank you, Mr Lord.”

“Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours.”

The butterflies in your stomach fluttered and he loved nothing more than to see that proud smile on your lips, your back straightening.

For months after that, the sexual tension seemed to rise between Maxwell and you. You knew it was wrong to have a crush on your boss yet his energy was magnetic.

How his lips curled when you came into his office to place his coffee on his desk, how he nodded happily as you ran off a list of all the names you politely told to fuck off. How you warned him that his wife had magically appeared at reception and how you pulled every trick to make him disappear.

Then there were the other moments, the ones where his eyes darkened when you made a cheeky comment. The ones where he leaned back in his chair and allowed you to willingly berate him, a smug smile plastered on his face knowing he’d been bad. All the times he’d caught your gaze when he ran a broad hand through his dyed golden locks and it’s like he felt your pussy clench.

You’d imagined all the ways you’s let him have his way with you. You always wondered how good you’d look with your tits pressed against the cool glass of his desk when he fucked you from behind.

“I’m just popping out.”

He interrupted your daydreaming.

“No, you’re not.”

“Excuse me?” He retorts, taken aback.

You wouldn’t normally but you had to put your foot down on this occasion.

“Mr Agraste has been wanting this meeting for months and I’ve run out of excuses. He’s sent me an email two times a day for the past three weeks, you are having this meeting whether you like it or not.”

It was clear to him that you were at the end of your tether. Yet he knew how fucking boring this was going to be, it was going to be all about figures and profits and money, money, money. If he was going to do this, he wasn’t going to do it alone.

His look of alarm dropped, his lips curling.

“Then I need you to sit in.”

Your nose scrunched, “What?”

The smug expression grew as his eyebrows raised into his unnaturally blonde hairline.

“I need someone to take notes.”

Take notes?

You questioned whether you needed to show him, yet again, how to hit the little red button on the screen to record it.

“Since when?”

“Since thirty seconds ago.”

He gave you a childish grin.

You hum, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“You can use mine.”

The phone vibrating in his pocket snapped him out of the trance he was in. Maxwell and you had been in this meeting an hour and already, he was losing the will to live. He switched off his camera to look at the message, eyes glancing to you as you tapped your notepad with a pen.

This could have been an email.

You smiled sweetly.

“Fancy a little pick me up?”

Part of you was hoping he’d offer you his finest liquor to help loosen off your aching muscles but instead, he pulled on a cupboard and out rolled a coffee machine.

“Why do I always go out and get you coffee when you’ve got that in there?”

“The coffee you get is better.”

That and he liked to see you deliver it to him, the way you walk in those kitten heels and the new pencil skirt you bought.

“How much longer do you think this is gonna be?”

He shrugs, “Another half hour.”

“Jesus Christ,” you say, stretching your back before standing up.

“Why, have you got somewhere to be? Someone to meet?”

Maxwell knew he was prying but he didn’t know your situation and he needed to know if chasing you was a bad idea. He had taken too many of those.

“No,” you giggle, “just don’t know how much more I can take.”

He places a cup on his desk, in front of your seat.

“We could make it interesting.”

“How so?”

You’d wandered over to his floor to ceiling window, watching the ant sized people and matchbox cars go about their day. When you glance over your shoulder, he noticed how you fluttered your eyelashes in curiosity.

You were warned by your parents when you applied for this job. Maxwell Lord had a reputation, he had done adverts on yachts with scantily clad women, the he was more than likely to hire you if you were female. Then there was the whole Dreamstone palaver that literally the whole world knew about.

They were right in some parts yet he had plenty of beautiful woman roaming his office halls, why the fuck would he choose you?

“What did you have in mind?”

You couldn’t deny that he’d peaked your interest.

“If my observations are correct, I’d say you like me.”

He watched how your body stiffened but he’d seen how you appeared flustered when he caught you looking. Sometimes he knew you weren’t even focusing on his face, there were other aspects of him that caught your attention.

“Maybe… but I’ve heard what people say about you.”

He smiles, “The one where I’m a ladies man when I’m actually a divorcee who hides from her whenever she turns up at my doors.”

You nod faintly, that was true.

“So why do you only hire women?”

“I haven’t chosen who works here in years and there are men, you know.”

“But you have so many women to choose from.”

“And I’m choosing you,” he tips his head to the side. “If you want me.”

Your stomach does a somersault, everything now depended on you and you tried not to have any second thoughts before giving your response.

“You still didn’t answer my first question.”

“How about a way that we can both sit comfortably.”

It was cryptic but something in you couldn’t say no.

Within minutes, you found yourself downing your drink before taking a seat on Maxwell’s lap. There was no pressure, you would both take it as far as you wanted to, if you didn’t wish to continue, all you had to do was stand up.

The temperature rose between you as you exchanged delicate touches and light kisses. Mr Agraste was no longer talking yet the voice who had taken over was equally as boring.

You almost whined when Maxwell was finally asked a question he had to reply to.

Sniggering, he switched the mic back on and answered swiftly. You scrambled for your notebook, ass still firmly planted in his lap as you scribbled some form of illegible notes.

You’d worry about that tomorrow.

He muted himself, returning his attention to you, chuckling at your agitated expression. It fell as he lifted his hips into you, his semi erected outline pushing gently against your skirt. Hearing him sigh sent shockwaves down to your pussy, your juices spilling into your knickers as he rolled his hips again.

He worked himself until his stiff length strained against it’s confinement.

His cock was all you could think of, the meeting was nothing but white noise under Maxwell’s soft moans of pleasure. You needed to see it, to touch it, to have it sit snuggly in between your heated walls.

You stand up, a momentary flash of disappointment behind his eyes as you turn round.

“Take it out.”

The words shook with your breath but the tone was stern. His eyebrows rose, his mouth parting before he had something to ask.

“Are you sure?”

You’re not even looking at him, already bending down to hike up the hem of your skirt. You lift it over your thighs and over your hips, Maxwell finally seeing what was underneath. The knickers you wore wear simple yet accentuated your figure.

You pulled them down in one swift motion, carefully treading out of them as you face him.

His hands reach for his belt and slowly unbuckle as he soaks you up from your neat triangle of pubic hair to your soft curves. The belt whips from the loops and he tosses it to one side, his fingers tugging at his zip, unbuttoning his trousers and underneath were white briefs. His thumbs tuck under the elastic, pulling down until his weighted cock springs free.

Your mouth salivates.

He lets you admire it before patting his lap, initiating the next step.

You take a single step, twisting on your heels so your ass faces him. Peeking over your shoulder, you watch his eyes flit from your behind to your eyes. You grab your ass cheeks and tilt forward, spreading them to show him how wet he’d made you.

Your arousal coated your lips and inner thighs.

“How would you like me?”

There was a cockiness to your question and he liked it.

“We should really finish this meeting…”

You pout, straightening up, your hand moving to pull your skirt down.

“But, I can think of a way you can keep me warm.”

His hands grabbed your hips and heaved you to him, his face pressed against your lower back. He lets one hand go, squashing between your bodies so he can take his cock in his palm, lining it up with your entrance.

Squeezing your side, you slowly start to sink down, his fat tip nudging at your folds. You mewl as his girth breaches, the stretch met with the slightest twinge before fading into something pleasant. Your walls relax around him as you let out a long exhale, dropping until his cock disappeared from view.

He knew how good you were a magic tricks.

His hand spreads over the curve of your ass, watching how the goosebumps arrive on your skin.

“Is this ok?”

This was more than ok, you can barely get the words out.

“Uh-huh.”

“Lift your feet a little.”

You listen, taking your feet from the floor so he can scoot towards the desk. The air whistles through gritted teeth as your walls clench his cock with the movement.

“Sorry,” the temperature rises in your face.

“Just,” his word is gruff, “don’t do it again.”

He was pretty sure if you did, he’d lose his mind and come there and then. It had been so long since he’d felt anything other than his hand, his trust in women deflated from his money grabbing ex who screwed him out of almost everything he got.

Yet you were sensitive, when he told you not to, you twitched.

He grunts.

“If you behave, I’ll give you a reward.”

The pair of you sat through the rest of the meeting like this, only business matters being discussed between you.

Your lips were becoming sore with your teeth buried deep into them so you didn’t make a noise, your motions were kept to a minimum so not to disturb either of you. Even when you wrote something, words noticeably wobbly, your mind couldn’t stray away from what was between your legs.

He was in a similar position, trying to focus his attention on what was being said on the opposite side of the screen. However all he could feel was your warmth, the steady flutters that held his cock a fraction tighter.

Even though you were doing your best not to look, he could see how your eyelashes batted when your head was at the right angle, how your lips were getting plumper, the heat that climbed up your spine when his palm attempted to soothe you.

Your juices weeped around him and Maxwell just kept smiling, no one outside of the office any the wiser.

#kinktober 2024 #kinktober #maxwell lord #maxwell lord ww84 #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord x you #maxwell lord x f!reader #fanfic

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thisisyourprincipalspeaking · 4 months ago

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Ok I’m seeing this sub narrative from “blogs” that claim to be over the situation but you know lurk 24/7 and still have the audacity to be mad 🙄.

I’m sure if you decide to post this that person and others will see it and get mad but hopefully I can say this in a somewhat diplomatic way.

Blaming a celeb for their crazy fandom is a lazy position to take. Accountability goes both ways and I am sick and tired of people on here refusing to take accountability for being shitty and bitter people. It’s ok for you to blame someone you don’t know for everything that goes wrong but it’s not ok for me to call you out as being an overbearing asshole that loves to rille themselves up when they could simply press ignore tag??? Like you went and asked for it then get upset when you’re mad. Why?

Why is it so hard for some people to admit they themselves rile themselves up and overreact and project because they’re human? Why does it have to be because the celeb is at fault for ruining things for their fans? I mean, you can choose to not be so bothered. You can choose to limit your interactions. You can choose to leave the fandom because it’s too much. You have all these choices you can make and the freedom to walk away at any point.

But continuing to stay here and insist anyone who doesn’t want to think the worst of a celeb just because they got married to someone you think sucks and just because they haven’t spoken on certain topics - is delusional or just as bad or whatever buzzwords gen z TikTok taught you -

I’d like to kindly say go F yourself.

Some of us like to believe the celeb in question has reasons they do things or don’t. Some of us don’t want to assume they’re some type of monster and they’re ok with things like racism and bigotry just because someone they date has friends who made comments years ago. The fact, is most people will know people who have done these things. I don’t believe for one second that any of these holier than thou blogs and anons are perfect and don’t know anyone who’s problematic or has made comments whether it be present or in the past. Whether I like to admit it or not, I’ve sometimes had problematic thoughts. I’ve sometimes made problematic comments. I choose my words more carefully now but my life isn’t out there for the free world to see. And I try to remember that when viewing public people who’ve been placed on impossible pedestals and under a magnifying glass by the public.

Some of us are okay to accept we don’t know everything and we probably know closer to nothing. But some of us want to continue to have positive thoughts and some want to continue to enjoy the fandom space they’re part of and that’s okay as well. They can be upset too at the bitter and negative haters that come here putting up angry think pieces every other day.

And they are also free to not condemn a celeb for all things terrible even if some bitter blogs and anons want to make a global smear campaign.

Life is not black and white. Things are not or wrong and most of the time, reality shows us that things are more likely gray and somewhere in between.

If you hate a celeb this much, leave. If you don’t leave, then don’t be mad if your angry and shady rants get found in tags and mutual blogs and somebody else who disagrees with you calls you out on it. Just like you’re hellbent on convincing people that this person is BAD because you’ve decided it - some of us will question your opinion and call you out. We’re free to do this just like you are. And don’t be mad that I found your shady comment. You’ve been a constant lurker for years now.

Principal, I hope I didn’t cross any lines. Thank you for sharing your space.

i think it's safe to run on the assumption that all celebs are pretty much bags of shit. and if they happen to be "one of the better ones" well, then, congratulations to them. good job on being the bag of shit that stinks the least 😆

#anon asks #chris evans shitshow #celebs #fandom #fandom drama #this is your principal speaking

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survey--s · 2 years ago

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467.

Describe your hometown. What’s it like there? I grew up in a really safe, white, middle class country town lol. It was very pretty and had lots of nice landscaped parks and pedestrianised streets. I found it boring as a child but looking back there was a fair bit to do - we had a couple of cinemas, a bowling alley, a skating rink, bars and clubs and some decent shops and restaurants. It was a good place to raise kids but I’m glad I don’t live there as an adult.

What did you do yesterday evening? Absolutely nothing and it was heaven lol. We ordered chippy for tea and then just chilled on the sofa and watched movies. This is my first weekend off for weeks and it’s been SO nice to just chill. And for once I’ve not been sick, or had a sick dog to care for, or had horses or cats or whatever to feed lol.

Are you comfortable with leaving the house without any makeup on? I can’t remember the last time I left the house WITH make-up on.

Do you have any expensive hobbies? Horse-riding - my lessons cost me £35 a week and then beach rides/hacks out are at least £90 a go as well, but my dad VERY kindly gave me money towards riding this year for my birthday so I don’t need to worry so much about the cost anymore.

What length do you like to keep your nails at? Short, otherwise they get caught on leads and stuff at work.

Have you ever felt physical pain in a dream? I don’t think so.

What is the oldest online account that you still use? Probably my Yahoo! e-mail address.

Have you ever had Christmas carolers come to your house and sing for you? Yeah, a few times when I was younger, but it doesn’t really seem to be a “thing” anymore, at least - not since COVID.

Do you know anyone whose family has lived in the same house for…3+ generations? Not to my knowledge, no.

What was the last video game you beat? BeatStar - then they released an update for it which is really annoying and now I don’t really play it as much.

What’s your favorite Studio Ghibli film? I’ve never seen any of them.

What did you learn from your last failed relationship? That some people really aren’t worth it.

What country does your favorite band hail from? England.

What’s something on your to-do list that never actually gets done? Finish decorating the bathroom. It’s been two years since we started it and we’re still not even halfway through hahah. It’s just expensive and a hassle as it’ll involve being without a shower for a few days too.

Have you ever been really passionate about something but then lost interest? If so, what was it? Yeah - reading, for sure. I used to read everyday and would get through several books a week, but then I ended up on medication that killed my concentration span and I just never got back into it. I do read on holiday (like, by a pool or something) but that’s about it. It’s not that I don’t still enjoy it, I just got out of the habit really.

Do you sleep with the TV or the radio on? Not on purpose, but I’ve fallen asleep in front of the TV more than once.

What’s the worst thing about being male/female (whichever you are)? Periods, the pressure to have children and do traditionally female things.

What movie has the best special effects? I don’t really pay attention to that kind of thing.

How many work hours per week is too much for you? I work about 30 hours and that’s fine for me, but I work outdoors in a physical job so it’s much more tiring than working indoors sitting down, lol. I’ve done 40 hour weeks in this job and it nearly killed me, I was so sore and tired hahah.

What habit is essential to your daily life? Getting at least an hour of peace and quiet to myself, every single day.

What is your favorite documentary? Anything by Louis Theroux or David Attenborough.

When did you last have a vision test? Years ago, ha. I’m way overdue an eye test but it’s SO expensive to get new glasses that I keep putting it off lol.

What do you typically eat for breakfast? Lately it’s been peanut butter and sliced banana on toast with a coffee and a glass of fruit juice. I go through phases of eating the same thing for weeks then I switch to something else lol.

What are three things you need to do tomorrow? Go to work, feed the animals, spend time with my mum.

#survey #surveys

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emmyhem · 4 years ago

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everything you’re missing (c.t.h)

a/n: hi everybody, i’m back with another post. this is my first calum piece and i’m so excited to finally get it up. this is once again unedited, i’m way too tired rn. it’s also the second smut i’ve posted so that’s pretty exciting as well. yeah i don’t really have much to say right now because i’m literally exhausted, my classes are really kicking my ass. anyway i hope you all enjoy this bff!calum piece. feedback and comments are always appreciated. hope you all are doing well and are being safe. thank you - emmy <33

pairing: bff!calum hood x fem!reader

summary: a drunken text meant for your ex shows up on calum’s phone and leaves him questioning everything he’s missing out on with his best friend.

warning(s): talk of a previous bad relationship, y/n’s ex body shamed her, mentions of alcohol, insecurity, smut, cursing

word count: 4.7k

You’ve decided that 3 glasses of wine is your happy medium, but even a sip into the 4th and there’s no telling what you’ll do.

So, naturally you were finishing up your 5th glass on Friday night while angrily scrolling through your exes instagram when you got what seemed to be an incredible idea. It was simply too tempting not to, your mind was feeling hazy which made your confidence skyrocket, and you truly did just look good.

A day of pampering had left you in a black floor length silk robe with nothing but your favorite deep cherry red lingerie set underneath. Your face was bare and glowing after a refreshing and illuminating face mask, and your lips were left glossy and plump from a new scrub.

You had posed in front of the floor length mirror in your living room, giggling between snaps until you had taken the perfect shot. It was classy but provocative, the dressing gown slipping from your shoulders exposing the lace of your bra and a tasteful amount of cleavage. You had also left the bottom open, allowing a clear shot of your thighs and the curve of your ass from where you sat on your knees.

With a mischievous glint in your eyes you selected the picture into a message, typing a cheeky, “take a good look at everything you’re missing” and sending it off to your ex (or so you thought).

But you really couldn’t be blamed for your mistake, Cam and Cal were far too similar for your drunk brain to decipher the difference. You also couldn’t be blamed for the fact that you dozed off on the couch immediately after sending it, before you even had a chance to recognize your humiliating mistake.

You were awoken by the ringing of your phone at around 9:00 am, way too early for your liking. Before even registering who it was, you brought the phone to your ear and groaned a sleepy, “hello,”

“At your door.” a voice you recognized as your best friend responded.

“M’coming” you said, scooting off the couch. On your way to the door you registered that you were still scantily covered, the robe falling off of you as you walked. You clutched it around you as you swung the door open to a wide eyed, Calum Hood.

“G’morning.” he smirked, looking you up and down.

“Shh” you hushed, pulling him in by the arm. “Why in the world are you here so early?”

He lightly laughed while taking a seat at the kitchen table, eyes following you while you moped over to the fridge and pulled out two water bottles.

“Well,” he sighed as you handed him one. “I got a very interesting text last night and I figured I just had to come over and see, y’know everything I was missing.” he spoke in a teasing tone as he gestured a hand down your body.

You tugged your eyebrows together in confusion. There was something familiar about what he was saying, but not familiar enough for you to put the pieces together.

“What are you talking about?” you questioned bringing the water bottle to your lips.

Calum shrugged his shoulders, a smirk still glued to his face as he took out his phone and began looking for something. After a few seconds he extended his arm to hand you his phone. You accepted it and glanced down absentmindedly as your body slumped against the counter.

The second your eyes hit the screen it all came back to you, your mouth fell open and you straightened out, suddenly very awake, not to mention very mortified.

Calum on the other hand was buzzing. Actually, he had been ever since his phone dinged last night awakening him from his sleep. Well, buzzing and extremely, extremely sexually frustrated.

When he first opened your message and saw the picture that would now be making a regular appearance in his wet dreams, he had nearly choked on his own breath. He knew that it was most likely a drunken mistake, and while that slightly saddened him it didn’t stop his dick from plumping up at the sight, straining uncomfortably against his boxers. He seriously debated wanking to the tempting image but decided against it, thinking it would be a gross violation of your privacy since it wasn’t even meant for him. Oh how he wished it was. Unfortunately that meant he had been sporting an exceptionally sensitive halfie since then.

“Oh my god.” you groaned, sitting the phone down on the counter and covering your eyes in humiliation. “Cal I’m soooo sorry, I was drunk, and overly confident, and I meant to send this to Cam and now I’m just, I’m sorry.” you reiterated.

‘Hey, don’t apologize on my account.” he countered. “Plus, you should be thrilled you sent it to me and not that asshole, doesn’t deserve ya.”

“I know, you’re right. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m mortified though. S’bit ridiculous, get a little alcohol in my system and I have a god complex all of a sudden” you rambled, running your hands through your hair nervously.

Calum stood and pulled you into his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“You think too much, y’know that?” he quipped.

You turned your head, pressing a cheek against his sweater clad chest and mumbled, “Yea I’ve been known for that.”

Calum softly chuckled at your words before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head and pulling apart.

“S’really no big deal, y/n.” a teasing grin plastered on his face. “Besides I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it.”

“Calum!” you scolded, swatting a hand at his arm.

He dodged your hit just in time and held his hands up in surrender before taking his seat again.

“Why'd you let that dick bother you anyway? Y’know you’re way out of his league.”

Your jaw clenched at the question, your mind wandering to every time you had come to Calum crying after your ex had done something to hurt you. Everytime he commented on your “stomach pudge” as he liked to call it, when you wore a tight dress to go out. Or when he would ask if you were really “that” hungry, even if you hadn’t eaten much at all. And each time you would feel absolutely wretched and end up sobbing in Calum’s arms, but refusing to tell him why you were so, so sad.

“He texted me the other day y’know?” you muttered under your breath, while fiddling with the coffee machine.

“Really? What’d he say?” Calum responded, watching your back with narrowed eyes.

“Uh, he saw me the other night, when we were at that bar with the guys.” you said, shaky fingers pulling out a mug.

“And?” he spoke flatly.

“It’s stupid really,” you sniffled, willing your voice not to break. “He said I put on a few pounds, that he was glad he got out when he did.” your bottom lip traitorously jutted out as you turned to face him.

“Fucking dick.” he hissed.

Calum wasn’t necessarily proud of the violent images that flashed through his mind at the thought of that asshole finding yet another way to hurt you but, the sad little quiver of your lip allowed him to reason without a doubt that they were fair.

Before you could even blink he was holding you again, arms impossibly tight around you. .

“He’s wrong, y/n. Fuck, I don’t know how to even...he’s just so wrong.” he said softly, his hand rubbing your back reassuringly.

“I know.” you whimpered, holding tears back.

He pulled back enough to look you in the eyes, arms still firm around your waist.

“No you don’t. It’s...It really fucking pisses me off that he makes you feel like this. It’s like-fuck you’re just like-” he moved his hands to cup your cheeks. “You really are gorgeous.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and your whole body felt warm as you stared at his big brown eyes. His words felt sincere, everything about him felt so sincere.

“Thank you, Cal.”

He pulled you back into his chest, “Really wish I could just, like hug away all his bullshit.”

“M’used to it.” you mumbled.

“You don’t deserve any of it.”

“Yea, well what can you do.” you sighed, moving out of his embrace.

Calum’s eyes were still glued to you as you stirred a spoonful of sugar in your coffee.

“I hope you don’t let anything he says get to you.”

You let out a breath of exhaustion.

Confidence wasn’t something that you used to struggle with. I mean sure, there were spouts of insecurity here and there but you knew your worth, and you considered yourself pretty, hot even. That had all changed a few months into your latest relationship. First it was the backhanded compliments which quickly turned into passive comments, and then outright cruel insults. People really underestimate the toll their words take on others, especially when the person that’s making you feel so ugly and worthless, is one that you adore and who’s supposed to adore you right back, no matter what.

“I try but, he can’t just be making it all up.” you were ashamed. When did you become the girl that lets a guy affect how she sees herself? That just wasn’t you.

“He is. He’s insecure and a douche. He was probably trying to destroy your confidence to the point that you felt like you couldn’t leave him.” Calum assured. “But you’re way too strong for him, dumped his sorry ass anyway.”

You smiled gratefully at his words, taking a seat next to him.

“Yea, so strong I tried to send him half naked pictures for reassurance.”

Calum shook his head, “I wish you could see how hot you are.”

Your eyes widened at the compliment, your head dropping to avoid his stare as blood rushed to your cheeks.

“I’d be happy to reassure you whenever you want.” he continued, bumping his knee against yours under the table.

“Doesn’t count.” you dismissed, before sipping your coffee. “You're my best friend, you’re obligated to tell me I’m pretty.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.” he muttered back quietly, his expression dropping slightly. He hated when you deflected his compliments. All he ever wanted to do was make you feel good, and you made it very difficult for him when you blocked every swing he took at the wall of insecurity that Cam had built around you. He would kill Cam if he could.

You let out an apologetic sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder.

“M’sorry, you’re right. I love you for that, the only thing keeping me sane.”

Your heart squeezed as he hugged you back.

Calum was perfect, he was sweet, and funny, and quite literally your favorite person on earth. Not to mention you had been hopelessly in love with him since practically the beginning of your friendship. But as his best friend you had heard over and over just how uninterested he was in a relationship. Everytime you would ask about his love life he would just respond,

“I’m just not the boyfriend type, m’not cut out for it.” shrugging nonchalantly.

Which you thought was laughable because anyone would be lucky to have him as a boyfriend, in fact sometimes you would let yourself pretend he was yours.

Like,in a busy club with his hands on your hips, guiding you through the crowds. So close behind, you could feel each exhale on the back of your neck, as his eyes darted around the room to ensure there weren’t any potential threats to your safety, in the form of drunk overzealous flirts. Or after a night out when he got cuddly and clingy, and would find his way from the couch into your bed. You’d wake up with his cheek pressed against your chest and his arms snaked around your torso as he released soft breaths that caused goosebumps to rise on your exposed skin. You’d let yourself imagine that you had this every morning and that he would wake up any minute to smother your face in kisses and tell you he loved you. And of course, here he was again this morning being so thoughtful and kind and everything you wanted in a boyfriend. And here you were again swimming in his praises and physically having to restrain yourself from kissing him.

Begrudgingly, you pulled away and stood up.

“Gonna get changed.” you spoke.

“I’m making us breakfast.” Calum called as you walked away. You hummed in response and slipped into your room.

Once in the privacy of your own room you quickly pulled on a pair of leggings and a hoodie before scurrying to the bathroom sink and splashing cold water on your face in hopes of ridding yourself of any romantic thoughts towards your best friend.

Although you weren’t aware, Calum was doing the very same thing just a few feet away. Internally reminding himself repeatedly that it was never gonna happen with you. He wasn’t good enough to be anyone’s boyfriend, let alone yours. You didn’t want him that way and he could almost trick himself into believing that he was okay with that.

You hastily finished brushing your teeth before returning to the kitchen. You were greeted with the sight of Calum’s back, he stood over the toaster cutting an avocado and humming a song you didn’t recognize quietly to himself. He looked over his shoulder as your footsteps approached.

“Hungry?” he questioned.

“You have no idea.” you affirmed, as he fixed a plate for you both.

“Good. I was thinking we could watch something while we eat,”

“Fine with me.” you responded, hoping he wouldn’t notice the distraction laced in your voice. Your focus had easily been stolen from the conversation to how easy it was to see his back muscles flex through the thin material of his jumper.

But of course he did, it was Calum after all.

“Y’alright?” he said, handing you a plate.

“Uh, yep.” you rushed out.

“Not still thinking about Cam, are you?”

“No, not at all.” you answered honestly, walking to the couch, Calum trailing closely behind you.

“Then what’s got you all flustered?”

“You” you thought, taking a seat in the furthest corner.

“I’m not flustered.”

“Bullshit” he countered, sitting practically on top of you.

You let out a huff, and motioned to the other completely empty side of the couch.

“Is there a reason we aren’t practicing personal space right now?”

He laughed softly at your question and nuzzled closer into your side.

“Yea, you’re all pouty, looks like you need a cuddle.”

“I’m really fine Cal.” you shoved him lightly but saw no results, he just scooched in even closer and bit into his toast.

The two of you sat in silence while some newly released action movie played on your TV. Calum’s arm was wrapped around your shoulders keeping you tight to his side, and although you could’ve sworn that you had been in this exact same position hundreds of times, you felt as if this were the very first time. Every single one of your nerves were on fire and the warmth that had flooded your body was making you antsy.

Feeling overwhelmed by your senses, you allowed your eyes to flutter close with a deep inhale.

“You okay?” Calum whispered, dipping his head down slightly to reach your ear.

You opened your mouth to respond but didn’t trust your voice to protrude through your shaky exhales, settling for a subdued nod instead.

“You sure?” his words were long and drawled out, despite your eyes being closed you knew his proximity from the feeling of his breath just behind your ear.

Before you could speak up his hand secured itself just above your knee, and your muscles flexed involuntarily at the contact.

“Relax, y/n” he continued, his thumb beginning to run repeatedly over a spot on your inner knee.

Everything in your brain was screaming at you to excuse yourself, maybe even kick him out, anything to gain some space and hopefully some clarity from the cloud of sexual tension that was looming over the two of you and blurring boundaries at lightning speed. But you were essentially frozen in place, petrified that any movement would alert Calum to the way he was affecting you.

Your head lolled back to rest on his forearm which was lying behind you on the couch and finally peeled your eyes open, staring up at the ceiling.

He watched you from the corner of his eye, taking note of every rise and fall of your chest, every thick swallow of your throat.

If there was one thing Calum was well versed in, it was his ability to read you, he liked to think he knew you better than anyone else in the world. He could tell exactly how you were feeling just by watching you, your face, your breathing and he was more than shocked when he started getting the feeling you were no longer upset but something far more appealing.

Were you turned on? Right here in his presence? The thought made blood rush to his dick, which twitched in his pants when another breathy sigh passed your lips.

“What’re you thinking about, love?”

Everything in you urged you to answer honestly, just tell him the truth. “You, I’m thinking about you. I’m always thinking about you.” But you couldn’t do that, so instead you deflected.

“What’re you thinking about?” you countered, meeting his eyes.

Calum questioned his next words very carefully, debating whether or not he could recover if he was wrong about what you were feeling and you shut him down. It was pointless though, he knew he would never recover from your rejection. He also knew that spontaneous combustion wouldn’t look very good on his tombstone and that’s exactly what would happen if he spent one more minute not kissing you.

Fuck it.

“That pretty little set you had on last night.” he confessed.

That you weren’t expecting.

A quiet whine rang from your throat and you were far too affected to feel embarrassed.

And that did it, Calum was now impossibly hard in his pants, no doubt leaking precum onto his boxer briefs. He needed to get his hands on you, now.

His hand started to slowly travel up your thigh, goosebumps rising on every centimeter they passed.

“So gorgeous in red, aren’t ya y/n?”

“Cal,” you hissed when his thumb brushed the sensitivity of your inner thigh.

“Mm.” he hummed. “It’d be pretty hard fo’me to stop right now, but I will if that’s what you want. Is that what you want, love?”

He was sure he’d cry if he had to let go of you now, but he needed to hear you say it.

“No, don’t wanna stop.” you whined, turning your body flush to his.

“Whaddya want then, baby? Hm?” You could feel his every word on the flushed skin of your neck as he leaned into the crook.

“Want you.”

He could’ve came then and there.

“Then I’m all yours.” he admitted before crashing his lips on yours.

Your heart was in your stomach as his tongue entered your mouth, explorative and eager. He was too busy memorizing your taste to notice your fingers tugging at his sweater. You attempted to push it up desperate to feel his skin under your hands. You were able to pull the fabric up about halfway before they were blocked by his arms that were holding you close against him.

Calum laughed when you pulled apart from the kiss, giving him a disappointed look.

“Want it off?” he teased.

You couldn’t bother to be embarrassed when you nodded eagerly in response. He didn’t waste any time peeling the fabric off of his skin, and you were quick to lightly run a finger across the ink feather just below his collarbone.

Now it was his turn to tug on your clothes, “Level the playing field?”

You nodded, lifting your arms and allowing him to lift the sweatshirt over your head leaving your chest completely bare. Calum groaned at the sight of your tits, his hands quickly finding your waist and tugging you down to lay on your back in one swift motion.

Once you were laid out in front of him he took the opportunity to explore the new skin. His hands left a lingering warmth as they dragged across your stomach and despite the kind words and endearing demeanor that he always upheld with you, you found yourself shying under his gaze, wanting to curl away from him. As your hands began to wrap around your stomach in an attempt to cover yourself up he quickly pushed them away, locking them in place on either side of you.

“Wanna see everything baby, all of you.” he cooed in your ear before nipping at the lobe.

His kisses began to travel down your neck, sucking a few marks to your collar bones and the surrounding areas. When his fingers grazed over a fresh bruise in the dip just between your neck and shoulders you hissed lightly.

“You look so pretty marked up for me. All mine, aren’t you baby? Not Cam’s, mine. Say it.”

“Yours, Cal.” you admitted, feeling your body sink further into the couch. You had never felt drunk off of someone’s words before and the experience was leaving you sputtering, completely compliant to your best friend.

He hummed contently at your confession, his large hands gripping at your hips, before slowly peeling your leggings off.

“Y’feel so good in my hands, like you were made for me.” his thumbs poking at the soft skin, just beneath your panties.

The feeling of his hands so close to where you needed them, but not quite there was driving you crazy.

“Cal, please.” you begged.

He groaned before tugging at the cotton covering you. “Cam’s a fucking idiot, y’know that? He had the prettiest girl in the world and treated her like shit. I’d never do that, wanna worship you baby.”

It was ridiculous how overwhelmed his words were leaving you, all desperate and squirming. As his fingers met the soaked expanse of your cunt you couldn’t hold back the throaty moan it elicited.

A pornographic sigh followed close behind, one that made Calum want to pinch himself to ensure he wasn’t in the midst of a haunting dream.

“Soaked f’me darling.” he mused, running his fingers up and down your folds to completely coat you in your arousal. You whimpered at the feeling, bucking your hips up desperate for friction.

Tutting while shaking his head, he used one hand on your lower stomach to press you back down to the couch.

“Stay still for me won’t you, love?” he cooed, continuing to run his fingers over your core lightly.

When you bobbed your head up and down in agreement he lifted your leg to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your calf.

“Hm, good girl.” he praised, softly laying your leg back down.

Calum hovered above you, dipping his head down every so often to peck at your chest, his fingers still unrelenting. The knot in your lower stomach tightened every second that passed and you felt like you could scream at any second, yearning to be full.

Calum felt like he could burst any minute himself but was determined to make this experience the best of your life. He wanted to give you something to remember, a reason to want more.

Your soft moans and frustrated grunts alerted him to your neediness and he was just about ready to give in for the both of you.

“What do you need from me, baby?” he said against your shoulder before peppering kisses across your collar bones.

You could only respond with an airy moan when his fingers found your clit.

“Hm? My fingers?” You shook your head aggressively. He knew exactly what you wanted, the tease.

“No? Want my mouth?” he teased further, leaving an opened mouth kiss in between your tits.

“Cal,” you sighed. “Fuck me, please.”

He groaned at your words, nipping lightly at the skin before ridding himself of his pants.

“You’re a fucking dream, y’know that?” he praised, desperately searching for a condom in his pants. When he finally located one he held it up to you as if it were a prized possession, smiling proudly at his own preparedness.

He hastily freed himself from the constraints of his boxers and rolled the condom on, never once taking his eyes off of the blissful expression on your face.

“Ready?” he questioned, his tip lightly pressing at your entrance. You nodded and sucked in a breath, bracing yourself for the stretch, your eyes falling closed in the process.

When a few seconds went by and nothing happened you opened your eyes to find Calum staring down at you in awe.

“Cal,” you whined. “what’re you doing?”

Your words seemed to break him from his trance, he shook his head and muttered an apology to you.

“Sorry, fuck you’re pretty. You’ve got no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

“Then stop waiti-” your words were cut off by a sharp hiss that couldn’t have been prevented as his length finally pressed into you.

“Fuck.” Calum groaned his head falling back. You felt too good around him, seriously he was fucked, completely ruined for you.

You felt the exact same as your silky moans filled the room. You had never been filled this good and you questioned how you had gone so long without this.

“M-move” you sighed, clenching around him.

You could hear his breath catch at the feeling and he grunted out a strained, “Need a minute.”

He held himself in place for a few more seconds until his breaths began to even out once again before pulling nearly all the way out and slamming back in.

You yelped, pulling your lip between your teeth in hopes to drown the sound.

He continued slamming into you at an unrelenting pace, taking notice of each time your eyes would roll back when he brushed against your g-spot. He could write a book about how good you looked all fucked for him.

As his thrusts grew closer together you could feel your release creeping up on you.

“Cal, need’ta cum.” you stuttered out.

His hands tightened around your hips, pulling you even closer to him as his head poked at that spot again.

“Go on baby, let go.” he encouraged, willing himself to hold out a little longer as your walls fluttered around him.

Once you had came it only took him about three more thrusts before he was painting the condom with his release, groaning your name as his hand searched for yours to intertwine them as he came down from his own high.

His body flopped next to yours on the couch, both of you struggling to fit next to each other in such a small space, not that either of you minded the close quarters.

Your fingers remained laced together as you caught your breath, Calum peppering kisses to your shoulder and mumbling praises into your skin.

“You’re an angel. God, I just- I love you.” he said, causing your head to snap in his direction.

He looked like a deer in headlights when you asked for him to repeat himself.

“I love you?” he obliged.

“Is it a question?”

“No, I’m just not used to saying it.” he admitted, vulnerability clear in his eyes.

You wanted to kiss away the worried crease in his forehead but instead pressed your lips to his, pulling apart a fraction of an inch to speak after a few seconds.

“I love you too.” you ensured.

Calum eyes widened, not expecting you to say it back, at least not so soon. He had so much he wanted to say to you but figured all of it could be summed up by another kiss to your soft lips. So he closed the distance once again, using a bit more force this time in hopes it would convey the strength of his feelings for you.

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handsomelyhiddleston · 3 years ago

Text

Smitten - Tom Hiddleston x Curvy Reader

Filming sex scenes wasn’t the easiest task. There are weird nude undergarments or socks or tape or sometimes just a nude co-star…With Tom, though? There were nerves and feelings and a deep down hope that he couldn’t tell that you were incredibly turned on as he mimed fucking you twelve ways to Sunday.

“Cut! That’s a wrap on today. Great work guys!” the director called.

Tom collapsed onto your chest, laughing as the tension left his body. “These never get easier.”

“I don’t know” you teased, playing with his hair as everyone left the set so you two could leave the bed with some of your dignity. “It’s a lot easier with you.”

Tom held himself up on his elbows. “Don’t tell me your past romantic co-stars have been less than gentlemanly.”

“Not all of them.” You shrugged. Being a ‘larger than the Hollywood standard’ actress had put you in some…not very flattering roles in the start of your career. Sure, now you were the romantic lead with a conventionally attractive male actor, but lets just say you’ve dealt with a lot to get here.

“Well, I hope you know you deserved better.” Tom kissed the back of one of your hands, rolling off of you.

“Coming from you, I may actually believe it.” You laughed, gathering the sheet around you as you left the bed, grabbed your robe, and started walking towards your trailer.

The two of you filmed the movie…Where you’d usually fall asleep in one of your two trailers watching other movies…

The two of you attended interviews…Where Tom would almost always defer to you and even stuck up for you when a few interviewers were borderline sexist or would comment on your appearance…

The two of you even walked a few red carpets together…Tom’s hand always placed at your middle or on your hip or in one of your hands...

He invited you out to eat with him before or after any shindig the two of you went to…

He’d walk you to your hotel rooms with kisses left on your cheeks…

He’d even tried to convince you to spend the week before the premiere in London with him…

In your mind, Tom was just too nice. He was nice to everybody. It all seemed very friendly…Until…

You hadn’t been watching the interviews as they’d been posted. Some interviews you did together with Tom and others you’d been split up and put with other actors from the movie.

Your phone pinged…

*best friend* - HAVE YOU SEEN TOM ON FALLON?!?

Before you could reply, your phone started blowing up.

You scrolled through the texts until you saw Tom’s

Tom – Darling, I hope you know how much you mean to me. Regardless of what your answer is, I’d never want to lose your friendship. It’s not every day you get to work with one so incredibly kind and thoughtful and talented and beautiful and…every moment I’ve spent with you has been a privilege. Please put me out of my misery and let me know you’ll at least let me see you again.

“What the fuck?” you asked yourself, opening your laptop and googling “Tom Hiddleston and Jimmy Fallon”

You saw that the Fallon YouTube channel had just posted Tom’s segment of tonight’s episode…

“How are you doing, buddy?” Fallon asked, pulling Tom into a tight hug.

“I’m doing incredibly well at the moment, actually.” Tom answered, sharing that the movie you two had filmed together had done extremely well on its opening weekend just a few days earlier.

“I know! It was amazing. I’ve seen it twice!” Fallon replied, always enthusiastic.

“I’m so glad you liked it. Y/n is incredible, right?” Tom turned to the audience, loving that they cheered when he brought you up.

“Oh my god, you two are so good together. I kind of thought maybe you two were…you know…” Fallon waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Tom threw his head back laughing, fidgeting with his tie and avoiding looking into the audience.

“Come on, you can’t tell me you two don’t have SOME sort of real chemistry. I saw the movie.” Fallon gave Tom a look like *Don’t lie*

“Well, perhaps we’re just incredible actors and you’re simply complimenting our craft.” Tom shrugged, trying to look anywhere but at Jimmy.

“Well, yes. The acting in the movie is amazing, but I don’t think that accounts for this.” Jimmy turned and pointed to the screen. It was a series of clips pulled from Tom’s interviews where all he did was gush about you.

“I missed being home, but it’s hard for anyone to stay upset when they’re around Y/n. She just lifts the mood in any room she’s in. You could say she makes anywhere feel a bit like home.” Tom had answered when a woman asked him if it was hard being on site away from home for 5 months.

When another interviewer asked Tom what his favorite line in the movie was, he answered, quoting one of your lines. “When she delivered it for the first time, it kind of took my breath away. I felt very unprofessional. I had to apologize and ask to start over. I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to say next. She tends to have that effect on me.” Tom laughed, a slight blush on his cheeks.

The final clip was one of an interviewer simply asking Tom how his day had gone. “I feel all out of sorts, if I’m being honest. Y/n isn’t here today because she woke up not feeling the best and with Covid still being an issue, she didn’t want to risk getting anyone else sick.” Tom answered with a sad smile on his face. When the interviewer shared that they hoped you would be okay and feel better soon, Tom answered with “I’ll make sure to pass on your sentiments when I bring her food later on.”

“COME ON!” Fallon laughed, throwing his arms up.

“I know, I know. I’m not very good at hiding how I feel, I guess.” Tom admitted, leaning back against the couch and laying his arm across the top. The crowd went wild.

“So, you admit it! Are you two together?!” Fallon asked, sitting on the edge of his seat.

“Unfortunately, not.” Tom answered, ducking his head as his cheeks flushed.

“Why?!” Jimmy asked. “You’re clearly smitten!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault!” Tom rebutted, looking to the audience for support. “I’ve tried!”

“Aww, now I feel bad for bringing it up.” Fallon chuckled and looked at the audience as they collectively ‘aww’ed. “How could anyone turn down this?!” He gestured towards Tom as the audience cheered.

“Well, if I’m to be completely honest I guess I haven’t actually TOLD her how I feel.” Tom confessed.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Jimmy paused.

“Well, I thought she’d catch on. I assume she has.” Tom laughed, fidgeting in his seat. “I’m pretty sure everyone else that knows the two of us can tell I’ve fallen completely head over heels for her.”

“Tom, Tom, Tom.” Jimmy shook his head.

“What?” Tom asked, nervous about what the answer would be.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I think you may just be horrible at flirting.” Fallon said with a straight face, the audience busting up laughing after.

“Do you think?” Tom replied, eyes gone wide in exaggerated surprise.

“I mean, I think you’re just so nice.” Jimmy laughed, trying to stay serious…“that everyone thinks you’re flirting with them…Which means, when you’re trying to flirt it just blends in.”

“Well, how would you suggest I stand out then?” Tom asked, putting his elbow on his knee and leaning his chin on his fist like he was really paying attention.

“I mean…” Fallon slowly pointed towards the camera. “You gotta shoot your shot, right?”

The audience went wild at the suggestion. “Oh, dear.”

“I can scrap this and we can just talk about the movie.” Jimmy offered, making sure Tom knew that none of this had to go on the air.

“I mean, if it’s truly that obvious to everyone what have I got to lose, right?” Tom answered.

“That’s what we like to hear!” Jimmy cheered with the audience.

“Well…Y/n.” Tom paused, a soft smile on his face. “I don’t quite know where to start. I feel as though I may have been remiss by not just telling you how I feel. The consequence of such is that now I’m doing it in front of all of these people *gestures to the audience*…and I’m sure you’re laughing at how red I’ve gone and how flustered I am so I’m going to get to the point. Darling, you’re an incredible woman. I could list a million reasons why, but hopefully later you’ll give me the time to tell you them in person. What I really want to tell you now is that you make me happy. You inspire me. You make me want to be the best version of myself and you even make me believe I can achieve it. I’d be honored if you’d give me a chance.”

Fallon had tears in his eyes and most of the audience did, as well. “I…That was so beautiful. I think we need to go to a commercial break.” He was all choked up and stood to give Tom a hug.

You pulled up Tom’s text, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Are you still in New York?” you text him. The two of you were there for interviews. You were even staying in the same hotel.

“I am.” He text back, but the ‘typing’ bubble stayed. “Did you watch it?”

“I did.” You answered. “Come over?”

You saw the ‘typing’ bubble pop up and then disappear a few times. Instead of a text, you heard a knock at your hotel door.

“So?” Tom asked when you opened the door. He looked nervous, a look you didn’t often see from him. He had his glasses on and his hair was an adorable mess. He was even already dressed in his night clothes.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you stepped forward and placed your hands on each side of his face, pulling his lips gently to yours. He quickly reciprocated, his hands finding your hips as he walked you backwards into your hotel room.

“And to think, I could have been doing that for a whole year already.” You teased him, connecting your lips again.

“Don’t worry, my sweet.” Tom answered, pressing kisses across your cheek and down your neck. His lips paused at the shell of your ear and his voice dropped. “It just means we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

#Tom hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston x reader #Tom Hiddleston imagine #curvy #loki

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soulwillower · 3 years ago

Text

housesitting • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: no

had this in my drafts and figured i’d finish it and post it, sorry for being away, but idk if i’ll keep writing! hope you enjoy, i’ll prob still come back and update/post fics on this account on occasion. love u guys lots and i hope you’re all doing okay <3333

warnings: drinking, unprotected sex, oral (fem and male receiving), light deepthroating/face fucking, praise kink, degradation, use of the words slut, whore, etc, suuuper unedited

(losers + reader are 21+.)

4.7k words

♡

the moment you stepped back into your flat, dropping your bag heavily on the ground with a sigh, you finally felt like you could breathe.

today and yesterday had been a nightmare - you and your roommate bill had gone home, planning to stay for a week with family and friends back home.

you'd spent the first night out with old friends at the bar enjoying yourselves and you'd even gone home with a handsome boy you'd had a crush on in high school. but just as he was about to go down on you, after you'd gone down on him despite how terrible his b.o. was, he said he wouldn’t because it was 'gross.'

you hate to admit but you were slightly tipsy and horny, so you still stayed for ten minutes of awful, boring missionary before he fell asleep. then when you'd left in the uber, a voice message from your boss threatened to fire you if you didn't come in and finish a project - so you had to scramble for a flight home, leaving bill back with your friends in maine for a few days, and now you're just ready for a shower, a nicely packed bowl, and a large dinner.

because good god, that was an awful trip.

"hello?" you call, rubbing your eyes as you walk towards your kitchen, wondering if your roommate's best friend was still here - he was supposed to stay and take care of the apartment while you were away.

but instead, your eyes landed on a complete mess in the kitchen; solo cups everywhere, trash, empty chip bags, furniture moved and counters sticky from spilt beer.

"what the fuck?" you project, eyes landing on the figure who walks into the kitchen, towel hanging low on his hips as water drips from wet, shaggy curls of hair. you meet the bright eyes of richie tozier, your roommate’s best friend.

he looks like a deer in headlights, his glasses slightly fogged as he blinks his eyes owlishly and you swear his eye lashes tangle together as he blinks. "oh, hey y/n, why are you here?"

and honestly, richie has always made your fingers tingle and your abdomen clench when he so much as looks at you, despite bill’s groaning and glaring when you refer to him as ‘hot friend number one.’ (he had a lot of hot friends).

but you’re wound up, stressed, frustrated, and exhausted so all you can do is look from the boy to the mess and then back, stunned, "this is my apartment."

he chuckles, wiping a drip of water off of his chest. you have to fight to look away, feeling burning from irritation and also something else as your chest heaves. you're just so tired, and this boy who you don't know very well has trashed your place and maybe even had a party and you just want to smoke and go to bed and-

"say, what are you doing back so soon, toots? thought i had the place to myself for the next five days." he says too casually, grinning like he's catching up with an old friend. his hand runs through his wet hair, droplets rolling down his bare skin and causing you to fight the urge to keep your eyes on his face.

you shake your head. "richie, why does my kitchen look like a scene from dexter?" you say, trying to keep yourself calm.

he tilts his head in an irksome, handsome way that makes you want to scream, "pretty sure dexter was....murdering murderers, not slamming smirnoff at three am." "clean it up! what gives you the nerve to have a party in someone else's fucking apartment? while they're gone?!" you yell, throwing your hands in the air. richie shrugs uncomfortably and you're briefly in shock at how much faith richie is putting in the small tuck he's made with the towel, barely keeping up on in his waist. he laughs somewhat nervously, "sheesh, doll, it would've been cleaned by sunday, you just surprised me and almost gave me a heart attack while i was in the shower. bill told me we could throw at your place as long as we were responsible." he sounds pretty genuine, but you're just so tightly wound and frustrated.

"well this," you gesture to your place, "is not responsible." you glare, "i'm going to shower. i've had a long fucking day, and when i get out the place better be fucking spotless and you better be gone. i'm not asking." you snap.

he grins as you push past him, turning to watch you storm towards the bathroom with an apologetic grimace on his face.

you took as long as you could in the shower, savoring every warm drop until you stepped out of your bathroom, expecting to see an empty apartment.

"what are you staring at?" the boy with the curls mutters as he fixes the wine glass he'd placed on the counter. you're pretty speechless as you look around, wondering how richie had managed to get your place more clean and inviting than how you'd left it. dishes are all clean, put away, the counters spotless; the oven is set with a timer for two hours, and the smell of lasagna invites your nose with a rumble of your stomach. two glasses of wine are poured, sitting at the counter as richie chews on his lip anxiously, hair glinting in the dark mood lighting from the lamp near the window.

"i felt bad. you seem like you had a long day and i didn't mean to make it worse." he admits.

you step forward, suddenly feeling hot as you watch him, his jaw clenched slightly and sharper than you remember it. he's actually really fucking beautiful, you realize.

"you didn't have to do all this." you say, biting your lip as you take the wine glass from his hand.

"i know." he says with a cocky smirk. your face feels hot as you watch him slide out the stools by your breakfast bar, sitting down and sipping on his own wine.

with a smile, you sit next to him. he was always the friend of bills that made you the most flustered - he's a tall, loud, garish bartender who spends most his time doing stand up at the clubs on the weekends even though he studied applied mathematics in school. he's the kind of boy that everybody has a crush on, because he's got that dorky yet beautiful sculpt; dark, curly locks, pale skin with a splattering of bright freckles. his eyes pierce yours whenever you're in the same room and his grin makes your stomach flip on it's head.

"so, why'd you come back early?" richie asks as he takes a sip, eyes staring at you brightly from behind the rim of the glass. you huff a small bitter laugh, "my boss told me i had to come back because we're understaffed. told me the extra hours are 'building charater' or something. but i was having a shitty trip anyways, so i may as well just volunteer my time."

he laughs, muttering, "good girl. doin' the lords work." you almost laugh but his words have heat sent straight between your legs and you can't tind words, suddenly in a state of shock. oh, god, this wine is getting to you.

richie's always been so hot, you're not surprised that one casual phrase had you so frantic like this. you blink, richie muttering, "y/n?" gently.

you shake your head, snapping to look at him, "y-yeah? sorry, i just- what did you say?" you're embarrassed. you're embarrassed because richie didn't even mean it like that and you didn't expect to like being called that by him and you're embarrassed because he knows now, god look at his smirk, you're done for.

"i asked why your trip was shit." he says simply, smirk on his face causing your face to heat up even more. you sigh, eyeing him, "i tried to enjoy myself and then i have the worst hookup experience of my life. then i came back to a messy apartment." you admit, shaking your head as richie pours you both another glass of wine, "the worst? that's a shame. what'd he do, throw up on you?"

you laugh, "no, nothing like that. he was a minute man, and he refused to..." you shake your head, wondering why you're admitting this to a guy you barely know. you've never hung out one-on-one before with him. "-he made me do all the work. and then he fell asleep. the worst part is, i've liked him since high school." you admit, dropping your face into your hands as richie lets out a chuckle.

richie's shaking his head, "see, those types are the ones who just shouldn't be allowed in the gene pool. lazy. missin' out on all the fun, especially with a gal like you." he says with a wink. you laugh, face feeling hot. "i'm no fun." you say bashfully.

richie raises his brows with a grin, his smile making you melt, heat pooling in between your legs from the way he runs his fingers across the rim of his glass. "i highly doubt that, doll."

his eyes dip down in a not-so-subtle way as he takes in your body, biting his lip and making you clear your throat with a heated face. "sorry you had to put up with a guy who couldn't fuck you the right way. and that your boss also fucked you. and that i ruined your night."

you shake your head, "i just had so much pent up stress from the last few days." he's eyeing you, and you wonder if he wants to fuck you as bad as you want to be fucked right now. would bill kill you? yeah, he would, but richie is so damn fine and you were left so high and dry last night that you’re just about ready to jump onto his lap.

as if reading your mind, richie hums, "bill's still in maine, yeah?" he asks casually, eyes fluttering to the timer on the oven that ready an hour.

you nod, "yeah, he's actually hanging out with the guy i hooked up with tonight." you say with a light huff. richie groans a laugh, "no fuckin' way. i promise, not all of bill's friends are bad at sex." richie says with a grin, and you laugh. "you sure about that?"

he hums, eyeing you but not responding.

“guess i’ll just have to find out.” you say boldly, butterflies fluttering in your chest when richie shoots you a deep look, slicking his lips through a smile. he hums, "so i don't get it, what was so bad about it?"

you sigh, "he wouldn't go down on me. said he was 'too tired' and ‘too much work’ then he wanted to lay down so i rode him for, like, five minutes and then he fell asleep."

richie's laughing, and you swat his arm as your face burns, "it's not funny! it's humiliating, richie."

he snorts, standing up to place your empty glasses in the sink, recycling the empty bottle. "sorry, doll. that's just shit. he should've at least had the decency to make you cum."

you almost choke on your spit at his bluntness, face blossoming and thighs tingling. "y-yeah."

"anyways, i can get going, if you'd like. guess i’m done being the house sitter. the lasagna will be done in an hour or so." he says with a nod, eyes staring at yours fiercely. you hum, standing up as richie walks closer. "or you could stay." you say, looking up at him from where he stands in front of you.

"you lonely or somethin', doll?" he rumbles lowly, lifting a brow. biting your lip, you swallow, "something like that." you say, lifting a challenging brow.

“so if it was stan here, or mike...” he starts, walking towards you until he’s close enough that you’re afraid he can hear your heart thump, “you’d want them to stay?”

you swallow dryly, “if bill lived with someone else, would you want to stay?” his smirk makes you clench your thighs. his long fingers raise and curl around your jaw, tilting your head back before tucking hair behind your ear. you swallow roughly, his hands are so big. his rings that he wears are thick and ice cold and feel so good against your warm face.

your heart pounds as he smirks, eyes challenging you. the waiting is killing you.

"you've got a pretty mouth." he whispers, sending shocks all around your body. "y-you've got a pretty everything." you stutter out, feeling extremely flustered and suddenly shy. "thanks, honey." he says with a laugh, making you feel even more bashful.

"y'know..." he drawls, hand settled on your neck, caressing your jaw, "i've wanted you since i first saw you."

you can't help the whimper as it falls from your lips. it's a small, shy noise of need and it makes richie beam a beautiful, sexy grin that has your knees weak. "please..." you whimper, eyes staring at his, the suspense making you anxious with need.

"please what?" he asks quietly, clearly loving the tense air. you almost roll your eyes, "kiss me." you say, rushed.

he pulls away slightly, giving you a stern look. “please.” he says, smirk creeping onto his face. you burn in slight humiliation because he knows what he’s doing.

“please kiss me, richie.” you finally say, swallowing.

"good girl." he says with a smirk and you feel like you're burning up under his gaze. but then he’s leaning in and his lips are on yours and wow, richie is a good kisser. he’s pulling you towards him tightly, hungrily; his teeth bite gently at your lower lip as his tongue swipes your own, pulling you into him. he was needy in the way he kissed you, a dominance in him that you're not surprised to find. you craved it, you craved him; and then he's pushing you back, up onto the stool as he moves between your legs.

his mouth is then marking your neck, claiming you, and you love it, the feeling of his teeth against your warm skin, the sweetness of his smile against you.

his hands brush up your thighs and past the hem of your shorts, legs spread so he’s pressed flush against you, his bulge so close to where you want him. "richie," you let out a mangled whimper, hair knotting in his soft curls. he laughs, lips finding your ear, "always wondered how you'd sound when i had you like this," he says quietly, "can't wait to hear what pretty noises you make when i'm inside you."

his fingers find the damp seat of your panties, dancing across it and making your legs shake with anticipation and neediness. you’re already a soaked, mewling mess as you grasp for him, hungry and needy and you want him closer, closer.

he pulls you off the stool, then, and you both stare at each other for a moment. he almost dies at the state of you; already fucked-out, hair mussed up and still wet, your eyes lidded and your lips kiss-swollen.

you can’t believe your eyes, richie’s curly hair fluffy from being freshly washed, the taste of wine on his lips, the freckles, the collarbone peeking from his collar, the smirk that could melt black ice. he looks like he could tear you apart. you hope he will.

“you’re hot.” you blurt.

he rushes at you again, melding your lips together with a searing hot kiss as he shoves you backwards towards the bedrooms.

"bill told me to stay away from you," richie says as he walks you down the hall, your feet nearly stumbling and shaky as you walk backwards, lips seeking his every moment, "he said i'd ruin you." he adds.

you lift a brow, too flustered to say anything as you stare up at richie, inhaling sharply as his hand trails down to cup your ass lightly, still walking backwards. "he knows how pretty i think you are. how hot, how... perfect." he whispers into the skin of your neck, raising goosebumps. "but i want to fuck you so well you forget your name. i don't care about what bill wants."

you look at him, desperate and needy. "i don't give a fuck what bill says. i want you, please." you say, pawing richie and kissing him needily. richie’s leaving dark love bites on the column of your neck and you know it's wrong, and you shouldn't, but you let him kick open the door into bill's room, guiding you to bill’s bed instead of yours. “please, wan’ you so bad,” you pant, the needy throbbing getting unbearable, desperate for some release.

“how bad, pretty girl?” he asks, smoothing down your hair. biting your lip, you sit on the bed, eyes level with the zipper of his pants. the sight of you staring up at him from below his hard, clothed cock makes his pants feel even tighter and he hums, "you sure?"

you nod enthusiastically, "wanna make you feel good, please." he lets out a soft noise as your hands go to pull down his fly, “filthy girl." he says lowly, making heat drip from your core. you shift, trying to relieve some pressure. you feel hot when you realize you want him to degrade you, that you love it. “god, say that again.” you moan, mouthing around his bulge. his hands come to caress your face, watching you,

"you like being my little whore, huh? so good just for me. bet you’ve thought of my cock in your mouth before, haven’t you?"

you nod, biting your lip. he grins and you’re moving to pull him out of his pants, trying to conceal your shocked face as you take in his size. your cheeks heat up, hand grazing his length and meeting his own hand as he pumps himself a few times, lining his tip up to your lips.

“open.” he says simply and you comply willingly, laying your tongue out. he’s teasing his cock on your tongue and you’re whining, desperate to feel him in your mouth, to make him feel good.

“just wait until i say so, baby.” he says, slapping your tongue lightly with his cock and making you shift on your legs, dripping wet.

he groans, one hand coming to hold your head softly, making you tingle. you watch as he stares at you, lips parted and eyes blown wide. his cock is glistening with precum as it lays on your tongue. “suck my cock pretty girl.” he mutters, caressing your cheek. so you close your lips, slowly sucking on his tip before taking a bit more, moving your head slowly.

you lick a stripe up the base of his cock and up to his tip, swirling your tongue. he groans in relief and pleasure as you take as much of him into your mouth as possible slowly, bobbing your head and taking as much in as you can. he’s bigger than anyone you’ve been with before, and the need to feel him inside you and to make him fall apart has you taking him as deep as you can.

you take him deeper, your eyes clouding with tears as you try not to gag and he hums, hands pulling your hair from your eyes - you can tell he’s straining not to buck his hips as you bob up and down on him.

“god, you feel so good, y/n.” he groans. you pull back, sucking on his tip as you swirl your tongue, catching your breath. his hands fall to your head and he gently, slowly thrusts his hips slightly. you gag, mouth wet as he pulls out of your mouth and wipes the trails of spit from your lips. “do it again, please.” you gasp, and he grins. “such a slut.”

he guides your face back to him, “tap me three times if it’s too much.” you take him in again, holding as long as you can and loving the way he’s thrusting into your mouth. he groans, both hands on your head, his chest rising and falling shakily.

"god, that’s so perfect. my good little toy.” he rumbles and your chest flutters. you feel him twitch and you sense he may be close, so you start to bob your head again.

he stops you, "no, pretty girl. i'm going to cum inside of you, okay?" you swallow, mouth dry, "okay." please.

he sinks to his knees, gently pushing you so you're laying down on the bed again, pulling your legs so they hang off the side of the mattress. he's pulling your shorts off, your underwear following as he spreads your legs wider, kissing your thighs. “look at that pretty pussy. soaked, all for me.”

you're breathing shakily as one finger rises to gently rub your slit, making you moan softly. his touch is feathery-light, teasing you and making you whine, moving your hips. "shhh." he says softly, bringing his tongue to lick up your slit. you moan out, relieved to have some sort of satisfaction. richie's hand moves up to push up your top, thumbing your nipples as he starts to suck your clit. he pins your hips down, "be a good slut and stay still for me." he says, burying his face as your toes start to curl in pleasure, the burning sensation of pleasure increasing.

he rubs circles into your hips with one hand as he slides two fingers into your heat, making you whimper, his fingers start to pick up pace as he continues to circle your clit with his tongue. his long fingers curl up inside of you, still pushing into you fast and rough, hitting your g-spot. you moan, “richie, harder, please.”

he hums, lifting his head as you gasp for breath, "since you asked so nicely, doin' everything i say." his fingers are moving again, faster than before. his tongue runs over your clit, practically moaning into your heat, fingers moving faster. you moan unabashedly, feeling yourself clench and knowing you're about to cum. your legs wrap around his shoulders as your hips move slightly,

“cum on my tongue like a good little slut, okay baby?” he says gently. you moan, eyes shutting as you see stars. you're hitting your high and then richie's watching you, praising you as you fall apart, letting out soft whimpers.

then you're sitting up as he rises from his knees, licking his lips. pulling him into a searing kiss, he crawls on top of you, rutting into you a few times before pulling back.

he's pulling himself out of his pants and you swallow around your words, resisting the shocked face that threatens to creep on to you when you see how big he is. you moan as you watch him pump himself, pulling off his shirt as you pull off your own.

he grins as he looks at you, "so good for me, my little slut. you want me to fuck you now?" he asks and you eagerly pull yourself up to your elbows, "yes, please, rich, fuck me."

he hums, pushing his cock against your slit, the tip rubbing your sensitive clit and making you moan sharply. he continues to tease you, one hand on his cock and the other holding your waist. "use me, please." you whisper in his ear, hand holding him to you from the back of his neck.

he lets out a sharp breath, hand snaking to your neck and pushing you back onto the mattress. "you want me to use you?" he asks, thrusting against you slowly, teasing your slit. "like my little plaything?"

"yes, god, richie, please-" but then he's sliding into you all at once, his large cock stretching you as he moves his hips, sheathing into you. you feel so full that all you can do is gasp, richie kissing your forehead as his hand rests on your throat. "gonna fuck you on bill's bed, okay? and you're gonna be good for me, right? my good little cockslut."

you nod yes, "so good for you." you say, and he smiles. he starts to pull out, easing back in and starting a shallow rhythm, getting you used to his size. you're euphoric as he starts to languidly pump into you, one hand on your neck and the other on your chest, palming your tit.

he starts thrusting into you, picking up speed - rough and fast. his hips buck up against you, pulling back fully before filling you up. his thumb gently grazes your sensitive clit and you grip his bare back, raking your nails down in pleasure. "do you walk around thinking of how it'd feel to get fucked by me, baby?" he whispers in your ear as he pounds you into the mattress. you moan, "yes, r-rich, i've wanted you for s-so long," you trail off into a moan. "feels so good." you mutter, panting, words babbling from your mouth incoherently.

you barely have a warning before you cum a second time, clenching so hard that richie's hips sstutter, his moan ringing with your own. he looks down at you, thumb trailing into your open mouth, you eagerly sucking on it like a lollipop. "god, you're so tight, doll. such a good little whore for me. i bet you'd let me do anything to you, anywhere."

your legs are shaking as he keeps thrusting you through your orgasm, feeling sensitive and euphoric. he smirks, "yeah? bet you'd let me fuck you anywhere, just my little fuck toy. so perfect for me."

you nod, kissing him needily, tears from oversensitivity pricking your eyes. "want you filling me up richie, feels so good."

"anywhere?" he asks, eyebrows knit in pleasure as he fucks into you. he's so possesive, it makes your face warm. you nod, "anywhere."

he's smirking, and you know he's thinking about how shocked bill would be if he found out. it makes it that much hotter as you turn and see the picture of bill and richie on the wall near the door.

then richie pulls out of you and you're being flipped onto your knees, richie's large hand pushing your face towards the soft sheets. you can't help the moans that escape you as he spits onto your dripping cunt, fingers playing with your used pussy as you moan, sensitive and still desperate. "pretty baby, all fucked out. can you take one more?" he asks, hands roaming your ass. you nod, yelping gently when a hand smacks down on your ass.

"can you take one more?" he asks. "yes!" you moan into the mattress with need. he mutters, "good girl." as he pushes into you, the new angle making you moan loudly. with every thrust, he pushes you down on the mattress, making you grip against the edge of it with pleasure. one of his hands drops down to rub your clit, and you buck needily against his touch. after only a few minutes, the combination of the snap of his hips, the few slaps on your ass, and his hands on your clit push you over the edge, clenching around his cock as you whimper. your legs barely stay up after you cum, and his arm wraps around you to hold you as he pounds into you, chasing his own high.

"yes, my pretty girl, so good." he praises again, hips speeding up. you think he's close because his breathing is faster, hands gripping your hips hard as he kisses down your spine, "take it." he whispers onto your back as he finally cums, pulling out and finishing on your ass and lower back, moaning lightly.

you can't believe what just happened as richie disappears, returning at the speed of light with a damp washcloth to clean you off. you blush at how sweet the gesture is before he falls next to you on the bed, sighing. "i'll be honest, i didn't expect that."

you laugh, "neither did i. i thought i was coming home to an empty apartment and some microwave ramen."

he's staring at you, a smirk on his face, “i'd apologize again but holy fuck, you look so pretty when you cum.” you don't know what to say, feeling hot as you roll your eyes with a grin. he laughs and kisses you, “you’re cute, you know.”

"says you." you mutter against his lips. you thank god bill won't be back soon as you watch his best friend rise, naked, from beside you and grab a spare hoodie and gym shorts from bill's closet, throwing them on before handing you his own shirt to wear.

"so, lasagna?" he asks, glasses askew slightly. you laugh as you stand on shaky legs, "it's the least you could do." you joke.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @sft-core @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @chl0bee @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters @unfortu-nate-ly @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie @decafcoffeew @etaerealboy

#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier smut #losers club smut #losers x reader

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americasass91 · 4 years ago

Text

The Shield and the Sweater

Hello lovelies! This little fic came to me when the lovely, beautiful, talented @stargazingfangirl18 asked a very important question on her blog. Would you rather be enemies to lovers with Steve Rogers or friends with benefits with Ransom Drysdale. Well my greedy ass wanted both. Thus the birth of this story. I also turned it around a little to make it fit into Siri’s 5k Soft Dark Challenge! I’ve never written anything dark before. Also not sure if this classifies as soft!dark or if it’s more dark. But it’s one of those! If that makes you uncomfortable, then please don’t read it. This is also my first time writing a threesome, so let me know if it sucks! I hope you enjoy it! 😘

General prompts:

8)The town golden boy isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

Dialogue prompts:

3)”Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

11)”I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

Rating: Explicit(if you’re under 18, please leave)

Words: 6.2k(this one got away from me, sorry)

Warnings: soft!dark/dark themes, unprotected sex, anal sex, vaginal sex, threesome(M/M/F), manipulation, language, model!Ransom being an asshole, Steve not being who you think he is

“And I really think if everyone pitches in to make these changes, it’ll really make a difference in the long run.”

Wow, so this is how you were going to die. In your whole 20 something years of existence, you never thought boredom would be your cause of death.

Sure, you were the lead Accountant at Stark Tower and these monthly meetings were mandatory. But did you really have to be here to listen to Rogers go on and on about how we can ‘improve our working environment’? Why did he even care anyway? He was barely ever here as it is.

You must have been zoning out worse than you thought because next thing you know your coworker, Janet, is poking you in the side and pointing towards Steve.

With a quick glare sent her way, you move your gaze to the Captain. He is giving you the same look he always does. Like he’s disgusted with you. “I’m sorry Miss Y/L/N. Am I boring you?”

A scoff escapes your mouth. “No, not at all Captain Rogers. I just love when people who are never here seem to always have an opinion on how things are run and how they could be better.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “Do you have a problem with me, Y/N? Cause if you do, I’m sure there’s a way to solve that.”

You stand up and match his expression. You lean forward with your hands resting on the table. You can’t help but notice the Captain drops his gaze to your cleavage that’s now on more display than before. But just as quick as it was there, his gaze rises back up to meet your face. “Is that a threat, Captain Rogers?”

“Oh, it’s more than a-“

Tony quickly stands up and claps his hands together. “Okay! Meeting adjourned! You two, come here!”

You quickly straighten yourself up and make your way over to Tony. You always try to make sure you show him as much respect as you can. He’s your boss after all.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. My emotions got the better of me. It won’t happen again.”

He nods to you. “Thank you, Y/N. I accept your apology. But what I’m not understanding is why Steve here wanted to fire you?”

You both turn to look at Steve who has a sheepish expression on his face. “Yeah, sorry about that, Tony. She just seems to bring out this ugly side of me. I’ll try to keep it more contained next time.” He then moves his gaze to you. “Sorry, Y/N. I promise to be more professional moving forward.”

He makes a quick exit, leaving you shocked that he apologized at all. Ever since you started here almost a year ago now, you’ve been at each other’s throats. It was your fault really.

It was your first week and you were in the break room grabbing some coffee when you overheard a few of your coworkers making fun of Steve for being a virgin. Now, you weren’t sure if it was true but you wanted to fit in so you made your way over to the group and asked if anyone calls him Captain Virgin. That earned you some big laughs. But the laughter died down quickly as Steve entered the room to grab some coffee. Judging by the glare he gave you, he heard what you had called him.

You went straight to Tony after that to apologize. You really didn’t want to get fired. But you wanted to make sure Tony heard the story from you before Steve got the chance to talk to him. To your utter surprise, Tony found the name hilarious and gave you a high five, saying you were going to fit right in.

Well long story short, it’s almost a year later and Steve is still getting called Captain Virgin. Oh but don’t worry, he has names of his own for you. His favorite is Tony’s Pet. For some reason, it really eats at you when he calls you that.

But the one thing you hate the most about Steve?

Is how utterly, hopelessly, and desperately attracted you are to the son of a bitch.

That happened in your second week when you went to use the complimentary gym and saw him beating the shit out of some poor punching bag. Your panties and your workout were definitely ruined after that.

The more you fought with Steve, the more you just wanted him to bend you over any surface and have his way with you.

It was despicable how horny you were for him. You were pretty sure all he’d have to do is snap his fingers and point to the floor in front of him and you’d happily drop to your knees and take him down your throat.

So that left you leaving work every day in a horny state. You started by taking care of it yourself when you got home. But after a while even that wasn’t cutting it. Then you started bringing home one night stands. But after the 4th disappointing non-orgasm, you gave up and just learned to live with it.

Sure, you could attempt to start being nice to Steve and maybe ask him out. But you were pretty sure he hated you. Plus you have way too much pride to actually do that.

So that leads to now. It’s Friday night and your workday is almost over. You’re inputting the last few numbers from the last expense report in your pile.

You get the last number put in when Janet approaches you. She sits on the corner of your desk. “So, you coming tonight?”

You take your glasses off and lean back in your chair, stretching your arms over your head. “Coming where?”

She rolls her eyes at you. “Oh, come on Y/N! You know we go out almost every Friday night. You never come and you always say you will!”

You start to clear off your desk and put things back in their place. “Yeah well I could. Or I could go home and sit on my ass and do nothing.”

“Well, that explains why it’s looking a bit bigger lately.”

Janet’s jaw drops as she directs her gaze at Steve, who is now standing in front of your desk.

You smirk and lean on your elbows towards him. “You like looking at my ass, Rogers?”

He scoffs. “Well when it takes up that much space, it’s hard not to notice. But here, I came to give you this.”

He hands you what looks to be a 10 page expense report. “Sorry it’s late, I’ve been busy, you know. Saving the world.”

You ungraciously take it from him and throw it in your to-do pile. “That can wait until Monday. I’ve got plans. We’re going to-” you look towards Janet for clarification. “Lavo.” You turn your gaze back to Steve. “Yeah, we’re going to Lavo. So this will wait til Monday if that’s okay with you, sir.”

Steve does his best to move his bag and jacket subtly towards the front of his pants so you won’t notice his growing hard-on. He hates how turned on he gets when you guys get into it. And then you call him sir? Jesus. He clears his throat. “Of course, I'm the one who turned it in at the last minute.”

Janet speaks up quickly. “You could always come with us! It’ll be fun!”

You grin widely at him. “Yeah! You could finally get your cherry popped, Captain Virgin.”

Steve can’t help the blush that covers his cheeks. “Uh, I can assure you my cherry has been popped since the 40’s. But thank you for your concern. And thank you for the invite, Janet. But i think I’ll stay in tonight.” He takes out his phone and sends a quick text before turning around and walking towards the elevators.

Wow. He didn’t even try to retaliate. You shrug your shoulders and grab your purse before standing up. “Alright, I’ll go! But on one condition!”

Janet claps her hands in excitement and starts walking with you towards the elevators. “Sure, anything!”

You press the button for the lobby. “You are going to be my wingwoman. Cause this girl definitely needs to get laid.”

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Lavo is super packed by the time you guys arrive. Of course you all had to go home and change.

You decided to go with a simple, yet effective, little black dress that showed off just enough to get men’s attention.

Thankfully you are able to score the last table. The waiter comes over and gets everyone’s drink order. You decide to stick with your favorite. You don’t want to get too drunk on the off chance you find someone to take home.

About a half hour into hot office gossip, Lucy, who is sitting across from you, taps your arm. You raise your eyebrows in question towards her.

She subtly nods her head towards the bar. “Okay I’m pretty sure the hottest guy I have ever seen is checking you out.”

You can’t help the smirk that crosses your face. “Yeah? Which one?”

“You can’t miss him. He’s fucking hot. Like no comparison to any of the other dudes sitting up there.”

You glance down at your drink and quickly finish the remainder. You stand up and adjust your dress, pushing up your breasts in the process. “Well, then I guess it’s time for a refill.” You wink and turn to make your way towards the bar.

It doesn’t take long for you to spot him. And boy was Lucy not kidding. He was fucking hot. Brown hair, blue eyes, and a smug smirk that would normally turn you off. But on him it worked. And who even looks that good in a fucking cream colored cable knit?

You go up to the bar, not too close to Mr. Hottie of course, and patiently wait for the bartender.

Hottie McHothot not so subtly moves his gaze up and down your body. He must like what he sees. “Hey honey, have you ever raised chickens?”

Uh. That’s definitely not the first thing you expected to come out of his mouth. You look over at him with confusion on your face. “Uh, no. Why do you ask?”

He just shrugs his shoulders. “Just kinda figured you might. Cause you sure can raise a cock.”

Okay, you’ve definitely never heard that line before. You crack up. You’re pretty sure you even snorted on accident. Once you collect yourself you ask, “Has that line ever worked for you?”

The bartender makes his way over to take your order. After reordering what you had before, you turn towards Hottie and wait for his answer.

“Not sure, my buddy told it to me yesterday so this is the first time I’m using it. Did it work?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know. It was pretty cheesy.”

“Yeah, maybe. But it got you to laugh. So I’d say mission accomplished. Name’s Ransom. What’s yours, pretty girl?” He holds out his hand for you to shake.

Ransom. Now where have you heard that name before? You accept his hand shake. You can’t help but notice how much bigger his hands are than yours. Jesus. You could already feel your panties getting wet.

“My name’s Y/N. Ransom, that sounds familiar. Do I know you?”

He releases your hand and goes to take a sip of his bourbon. “Well, I guess that depends. Do you read magazines or have you seen the side of the city bus lately?”

You quickly wrack your brain. You don’t read many magazines. But the bus drives by you everyday on your walk to work. Holy shit! That’s it! He’s in his underwear on the side of the bus. You’ve drooled over that picture plenty of times.

“Oh, yeah! I remember now! I’ve seen you on the bus! What’s it an ad for? I can never really get past the almost naked man. A bit distracting on my way to work.”

He smirks as he briefly glances down at your breasts. “I’m glad you know my work. It’s an ad for Calvin Klein. For their new line of men’s briefs. Sorry I’ve been a distraction.” He sends you a wink.

Fuck. He was a model. And a popular one at that if he’s in an ad for Calvin Klein.

“I didn’t say I minded. You can make it up to me you know.” You wink back. Holy shit. Were you really flirting with a model?

“Yeah? Well, how about we get out of here and I’ll show you a fully naked man.”

Okay. Cheesy line number 2. Was that really going to work on you?

Yes.

Yes it was.

“Let me just go grab my purse.”

Drink forgotten, you go back to your table as quickly as you can without looking desperate. “Sorry, girls. But this is where I leave you.”

Janet glances down at her phone. “We haven’t even been here an hour yet! Where are you going?”

You send her a wink. “I’m leaving with that guy! You guys know him! Remember that ad on the side of the bus?”

They all turn their gaze to him. And they all make it very obvious. He just waves and sends them a smirk.

“Holy fucking shit! That’s the new Calvin Klein guy! Oh my god you lucky bitch!”

“Wait! Listen. We’ll let you go on one condition.”

You furrow your brows in confusion. “Okay?”

Janet gives you a naughty smirk. “On Monday I’ll need a report on if they had to stuff his briefs to get that delicious looking bulge or not.”

You give her a naughty smirk of your own. “I can totally do that.”

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Monday morning you were all smiles as you stepped off the elevator and headed towards your desk. You give Janet a wink as you pass by her. She quickly makes her way over just as you sit down. “Um, excuse me hoe. But is that the same dress you were wearing Friday night?”

You quickly grab the cardigan you always keep in your desk out and put it on and button it up, attempting to look a little more professional. “Maybe.”

Janet opens her mouth in shock. “You stayed the whole weekend with him? You little slut! How was it?”

You turn on your computer and grab for the expense report of Steve’s you left in your to-do pile. Then you turn towards your nosy coworker. “Well, if you must know, yes. I did stay the whole weekend with him. And I’m pretty sure I was in an orgasm-induced coma the whole time. It’s all kind of a rough, sticky, mind-blowing blur.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

You shrug your shoulders as you put in your login information on the computer. “I haven’t decided yet. While the sex was the best I’ve ever had, he’s kind of an ass. Talked about himself and all the famous people he’s hooked up with since becoming a model. I honestly kept initiating sex just to make him shut up.”

She gives you a look like you’re stupid. “I’m not seeing the issue here. So what if he talks about himself a lot? The sex was amazing. You need to lock that down girl.”

You roll your eyes at her. “That’s the thing, Janet. He doesn’t do relationships. He told me so multiple times. Plus I’m pretty sure he was texting another chick in between our ‘sessions’. I suppose if I’m desperate, I’ll get a hold of him.”

“You know you could always just have him on backup for sex. Like a friends with benefits situation.”

“Janet, I’m in my late 20s. I’m too old for that kind of relationship.”

“Exactly, you’re in your late 20s! This is the perfect time for that kind of relationship before you settle down and get married! Have one last final hoorah!”

“I can’t have this conversation before caffeine. I’m going to get coffee. You act like I’m dying soon or something.” You turn to walk away but then remember you were supposed to tell her something. “Oh yeah and by the way. The bulge is definitely not stuffed.”

You give her a wink and then head to the break room for some much needed coffee. When you see who’s in there, you almost contemplate going downstairs to a different break room.

Steve is standing at the counter, preparing his coffee. He turns when he hears you come in and gives you a once over. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

You grab a mug out of the cabinet beside him. “Sorry my appearance isn’t up to your standards today, Rogers. I was a little...busy this weekend.”

He takes a sip of his coffee to make sure it’s right. Then he moves out of your way so you can get to the coffee, but still staying close. “Busy getting run over by a truck? Cause that’s kind of what you look like.”

You pour yourself a generous amount of coffee and take a long sip, letting the bitter liquid slowly make you human. “Yeah, well. I was busy getting fucked all weekend, Rogers. But I know your little innocent mind wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

That wipes the stupid little smirk right off his face. He almost looks pissed. He moves even closer to you. Almost pressing himself right up against you. So close that you can smell his coffee-scented breath. If you were wearing panties, they’d be ruined.

“Not all of us feel the need to sleep around. Some of us are looking for a real connection. Not just a one night stand of meaningless, mediocre sex.”

You press yourself just a little closer to him, his chest now touching yours. “Oh, it was anything but mediocre. Maybe if you actually got some, you’d know what that feels like.”

He leans his head down until his mouth is next to your ear, his left hand now resting on your hip. “You really need to stop insinuating that I’m a virgin sweetheart. If you were nicer to me, I’d show you that I know how to fuck.” With that he backs up and heads out of the break room.

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Jesus Christ. You swear you almost came.

And if you were nicer to him? Fuck him. He’s not nice to you either. That’s okay. You have someone who can scratch this itch.

You pull out your phone and send a quick text.

To: Fuckboi

You busy tonight? I could really use a release.

The reply came almost immediately.

From: Fuckboi

Didn’t get enough of my cock this weekend huh? I suppose I could make myself available.

You roll your eyes and quickly reply with your address and what time to be over.

The rest of the day passes by slowly. It takes you half the day to enter Steve’s expense report. God he’s descriptive. At least it’s completed. You can’t really say that much for the other Avengers. They usually half assed them and made them barely acceptable.

You are shutting down for the day when Steve approaches your desk. You remove your glasses and look at him expectantly. “Is there something I can help you with, Steve?”

A blush creeps it’s way across his cheeks. “Um, I was actually just wondering if you had time to go over the new expense report forms? They should be a lot easier to fill out.”

You glance down at the clock on your computer. Ransom is going to be at your place in about 20 minutes.“Can we do it tomorrow? I have company that’ll be showing up at my apartment in like 20 minutes.”

His hopeful smile falls. His face is now unreadable. “Would your company happen to be whoever you spent the weekend with?”

Confused, you grab for your purse after getting your computer shut down. “Actually, yes. Should I have asked your permission first?” You attempt a joke to ease the sudden tension.

He pulls out his phone and starts typing furiously. Wow. You weren’t aware he knew how to text. You hear it ping with a reply before he angrily puts it back in his pocket. “Sure, we can do this tomorrow. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your whoreing around.”

Your jaw drops in surprise. Sure you guys were always throwing jabs at each other. But he’d never said anything like this before. And in such a mean tone.

You round your desk and stand right in front of him. “Fuck you, Steve.”

You hurry towards the elevators before he can see the tears that have welled up. You couldn’t let him know he had that power over you. Asshole. Thank god Ransom was coming over. Hopefully he could fuck what Steve just said right out of your head.

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You’ve lost count of how many orgasms Ransom has pulled from you with his mouth when there’s a knock on your door.

Ransom looks up at you from his kneeling position on your living room floor. “Did you invite someone else to join us, pretty girl?”

You scoff and push him away so you can stand up. You pull your dress down as you make your way towards the door. “Yeah. I can barely handle just you. I’m pretty sure if we added someone else, I’d actually die.”

You open the door and gasp in surprise. “Steve? What are you doing here?”

He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Look, I know you probably already have company but I felt really bad about what I said to you earlier today and wanted to apologize.”

You have so many questions. “How did you know where I lived?”

That sheepish smile makes its appearance again. “I may or may not have looked in your employee file.”

You shake your head. “And you felt the need to come all the way here and apologize? Why not just text me?”

“It would only have felt right to me to do it in person. I really am sor-”

You feel a pair of arms wrap around you from behind. “Well, who do we have here? Why is Captain America at your door?”

You turn your head to address Ransom. “He just came by to apologize to me. I think he was just leaving.”

Steve has a disappointed look on his face. “Yeah, I suppose I was.”

“Awe, what a shame. I thought you were gonna ask him to join us, pretty girl.”

Steve’s eyes grow wide at the thought. You quickly speak up. “No, I don’t think he’d be comfortable with that. He’s a little old fashioned.” You give him a sincere smile. You didn't think that was a bad thing.

Steve looks back towards the elevators and then back to you. He clears his throat. “What if I wanted to join you?” Seeing your wide eyed look, he quickly adds, “Only if Y/N would be comfortable with that of course.”

You contemplate what the consequences could be in your head. But then you get distracted when Ransom starts grinding his hard on against your ass. “Come on, pretty girl. Make a decision.”

The next word comes out of your mouth faster than what your brain can process. “Okay.”

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Now you were standing awkwardly in your bedroom with Steve and Ransom looking at you expectantly.

You’ve never done this before so you’re not sure how this is supposed to go. “So, um. How do we start exactly?”

Ransom smirks and comes up behind you. “I think you should call the shots, pretty girl. If you’re okay with that, Steve?”

With the mention of his name, he walks towards you and places his hands on your hips. “I think that’s a great idea. Can I kiss you now?” He places his hand under your chin and raises your face up to meet his. “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” With that, his lips meet yours. It’s explosive. You quickly wrap your hands around his neck and press yourself up against him.

You get so lost in the kiss, you forget that Ransom is there. That is until he presses his lips against your neck and presses himself against your ass. It presses you even further against Steve, making you feel his excitement against your lower belly.

You’re so overwhelmed already and you’d barely started. You may not survive this evening.

As you move your hands down to remove Steve’s shirt, Ransom is unzipping your dress, pressing kisses to every inch of exposed skin.

Without breaking the kiss, Steve moves his hands around to unhook your bra so he can get his hands on your breasts. He pinches your nipples, causing you to moan into his mouth. He moves his lips to your neck, sucking on your pulse point.

After successfully removing your dress, Ransom stands back up and turns your head to connect your lips. He starts rutting his clothed hard on against your naked ass. His left hand reaches around to bat one of Steve’s away so he can squeeze your breast.

Steve takes the hand that had been swatted away and moves it down to your soaking wet core. He starts lightly circling your clit. Just enough pressure to make you mewl.

You reach behind you with your left hand and tug at the waistband of Ransom’s briefs. “Off.” You moan out as you take your right hand and start attempting to take off Steve’s jeans. He smirks into your neck and helps you out. He barely gets them unbuttoned and unzipped before you’re reaching your hand into them and his boxers to grab his cock. It feels big.

Ransom grabs your left hand and places it on his now free cock. You wrap your hand around it and give it a squeeze before you start pumping your hand up and down. You do the same to Steve’s, making the both of them let out grunts against both sides of your neck. Steve increases the pressure on your clit a little. Still not enough.

“Nee-need, you. Please.” You weakly moan out. Ransom moves his mouth up to your ear. “How do you want us, pretty girl?”

You reluctantly pull away from both of them so you can think. You decide to be greedy. You point to Steve. “I want you to lay on the bed, please.”

He does as you ask. Putting his hands behind his head as he awaits further instructions.

You get on the bed and straddle him. You turn around and reach your arm out for Ransom. “Want you behind me.” You lean over and open your bedside drawer to grab the lube and toss it at Ransom. He smirks as he straddles Steve’s legs and gets behind you. He uncaps the lube and starts coating his cock with a generous amount. “Need my cock in that ass, pretty girl?”

You hold up your hand. “Wait.” You lean down towards Steve and give him a quick kiss. “Are you okay with this?”

He nods his head. “As long as you are.” You raise back up and smile at him. You turn your head and look at Ransom. “I’m assuming you're okay with this?”

He just smirks and squeezes some lube out so that it slides down the crack of your ass. “More than okay, pretty girl. Need me to stretch you out first?”

You smirk and pull him in for a quick, filthy kiss. “I think it got plenty stretched out this weekend.”

He matches your smirk. “You little slut. Wanting both of our cocks stuffing you full.”

You whimper as he lands a smack on your ass. Leaning up on your knees, you grab a hold of Steve’s cock and start running his tip up and down your folds. He places his left hand on your right hip and his right hand on your left thigh. “Condom?”

You quickly shake your head and pause your actions. “On the pill. Unless of course you’d be more comfortable with one.”

He shakes his head. “No, just making sure.”

You turn back to Ransom. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready for you.”

He nods and places his hands on your shoulders, waiting somewhat patiently.

You slowly sink down on Steve’s cock. He’s stretching you out so deliciously. It burns in just the right way. Ransom may be longer, but Steve is definitely thicker.

After you get fully seated on him, you take a minute to adjust. It only takes a few seconds. You turn your head towards Ransom. “Okay, I’m ready.”

He removes his right hand from your shoulder and grabs the base of his cock and starts pressing against the tight ring of muscle. He’d been in there a lot over the weekend. But it was still a tight fit regardless. He doesn’t go as slow and sheaths himself to the hilt, causing you to moan out in slight pain and pleasure.

Holy fuck. You feel so full. You think you might die. That is until Ransom removes his cock until just the tip remains and then forcefully thrust back in, causing you to grind on Steve’s dick.

Steve grunts out from the movement and starts thrusting up into you the best he can from his position. Ransom wraps his left arm around you and continues his thrusts, not letting up his pace. You don’t even really have to move, the both of them doing it for you. They somehow find the perfect rhythm. Each of them pulling out and pushing in at the same time. One of your hands is behind you, resting on the back of Ransom’s head while the other is resting on Steve’s chest.

Steve sits up suddenly and pulls you in for a kiss. “Like being stuffed with both of our cocks, pretty girl?” You hear from behind you. “Yes. So good. So full. Gonna cum.”

Ransom removes his arm from around you and reaches down and starts circling your clit. “Do it. Cum all over us. Make a mess.”

Steve can feel you squeezing him. “Please, sweetheart. Need to feel you cum on my cock. You’re gripping me so good.”

You explode. You clamp your eyes shut, seeing stars behind your eyelids. You let the both of them fuck you through it.

Ransom’s hips stutter. The fluttering around his cock is too good. He cums with a shout of your name, filling up your ass to the brim. He gives you a few more thrusts before he pulls out and collapses beside you two.

Steve’s been patient while you come down from your high. He lays back down, pulling you with him so that your chest to chest. He bends his knees and grabs onto your hips. “You ready, sweetheart?” You raise up, both of your hands on each side of his head. You give him a nod.

That’s all he needs. He starts fucking you, hard and fast, chasing his release. He can feel it building. He just needs to feel you come undone around him again. He moves one of his hands and starts circling your clit with his thumb. “Need you to cum for me again, Y/N.”

You shake your head. “Can’t. Too much.”

Ransom sits up beside you. “I know what she needs.” He reaches over with his left hand and wraps it around your throat, squeezing gently.

It makes you clench down on Steve’s cock. “Yeah? That all you needed, sweetheart? A hand wrapped around your pretty throat? I know you like it. Can feel you squeezing me.” He picks up his pace. The only sounds that can be heard are his grunts, your breathy monas, and skin slapping against skin.

It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to hit you. This one is somehow even more intense than the last.

You must’ve blacked out for a few seconds because the next thing you know, you’re waking up in between Steve and Ransom.

Steve smiles down at you. “There she is. We lost you for a second, sweetheart.”

You feel drunk. You smile goofily up at him. “Did you cum?”

Just as you ask that, you can feel his release seeping out of your overused cunt. Then you feel cum leaking out of your ass. You hide your face behind your hands in embarrassment. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

Ransom removes one hand while Steve removes the other. “Nuh uh uh. No hiding allowed, pretty girl. I have no regrets.” He looks at Steve. “Do you?”

Steve smiles down at you and leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips. “None from me. You tired, sweetheart?”

You let out a big yawn and nod your head, slowly closing your eyes. “Get some rest, pretty girl.” That’s the last thing you hear before sleep takes you.

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You wake up sometime in the early morning, stretching out your sore limbs. You know you have a dumb smile on your face. But you can’t help but notice your empty bed.

You sit up and hiss at the deliciously sore feeling between your legs. You grab your robe and slip it on. You can smell coffee coming from the kitchen. You giddily make your way out of the room and down the hallway. They both barely just come into view, still unaware you’re there, when you hear Steve speak.

“I thought you were going to be an asshole to her? Make her see I’m not that bad.”

You hear Ransom next. “I was an asshole to her. I’m sorry I dicked her down so good that she wanted more.”

Steve scoffs. “I never gave you the okay to fuck her!”

“You also didn’t tell me it was off limits. Look you got what you wanted right?”

“No, actually I didn’t. I didn’t pay you so we could have a threesome together.”

What the fuck? Steve paid Ransom to help him get in your pants?

“Ok, how about this? I’ll give you all of your money back if I can fuck her one more time before I go? Then we’ll be squared away.”

Steve seems to be conflicted. “Fine! But this is the last time Ransom. I have to get to work anyway. After this, she’s mine. And make sure she’s not late for work herself.”

Before you have time to react, Steve rounds the corner and sees you standing there. He has a deer caught in headlights look. Ransom comes up beside him and sees you. “Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

You slowly start backing up towards your bedroom. Steve moves towards you, stopping once you put your hands up. “Stay away from me! Both of you! I want nothing to do with either of you!”

Ransom moves past Steve and grabs onto your arms. “Oh, please. You’d fuck us again if we wanted. Wouldn’t you?”

You spit in his face. “Fuck you, Hugh.”

He gets a sinister look on his face. “Wrong move, pretty girl.” He looks toward Steve. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck the brat out of her. You better tell her boss she won’t be in today.”

Your eyes go wide at his words. You start thrashing against him, trying your best to get away. Steve has had enough. He comes over and yanks you away from him and presses you against the wall. “You better calm down, sweetheart. I’ll treat you like a princess if you can be my good girl. Can you do that?”

You shake your head. “Why would you think I’d want anything to do with you after finding out you paid someone to help get into my pants?”

He gives you an evil smirk. “Because if you don’t, I’ll just have to release the tape of last night on the internet. Let everyone see how much of a slut you actually are.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re bluffing.”

He smirks and turns his head towards Ransom. “Show her.”

Ransom gets his phone out of his pocket and swipes at the screen for a second before turning it in your direction.

Holy shit. They weren’t bluffing. There you were, getting fucked by the both of them. That would ruin you if it got out. Not only would you get fired, but your parents would probably disown you. You’d never have a normal relationship again. You’re fucked. Even more than you were last night. How had you not noticed they were recording it?

Ransom must have read your mind. “I set my phone up while you were busy with Steve’s fingers on your cunt and his tongue down your throat. I think you need to ask her again Steve.”

Steve grabs your chin and moves your gaze onto his face. “I’ll ask you again. Are you going to be my good girl? Let Ransom fuck you one more time and then it’ll just be me and you?”

You drop your gaze to the floor. You feel a tear run down your cheek as you whisper out, “I’ll be your good girl.”

Taglist: @stargazingfangirl18 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @harrysthiccthighss @lllols @patzammit @quxxnxfhxll

Steve Taglist: @donutloverxo

#captain america #dark!steve rogers/reader #dark!steve rogers smut #model!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #this sweater wearing menace #shield throwing daddy #steve rogers smut #steve rogers #chris evans #chris evans smut #steve rogers x reader

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jade-parcels · 4 years ago

Text

Gift giving

With Xiao, Kaeya, Childe and Albedo :)

—————————

Xiao:

He isn’t that great at finding things you’ll like. Xiao is super attentive, he knows what you like but when he’s standing there in front of a jewelry stand or patch of wild flowers he feels like an idiot

He just overthinks things, blows them way out of proportion in his head. This is all new to him still! And he feels like a jerk when you bring little trinkets to him cause you make it seem so effortless :(

“Xiao, look at this! Its a necklace made of a geovisap tooth! Isn’t it beautiful?” “Mhm” “I got one for you too” See?? See?? You always just find things like that! Probably because you’re more social than he is

One day, while clearing a hilichurl camp, he finds a lizard and remembers you talking about them. You went on and on about how some lizards lose their tails or camouflage with their surroundings (he listened to your entire rant about it) So he snatches it up and heads back to the Wangshu Inn, demanding a glass jar from Verr Goldet so he can keep it contained.

When you’re done with your commissions and make your way up to his room, he pretty much shoves the lizard jar into your hands the second you open the door

“What’s this?” “It’s a lizard” “Right...But why are you giving me a lizard..?”

Now he’s flustered and embarrassed “You said you liked them. Whatever, give it back I’ll go put it outside-“ “No! No, thank you very much. I love it”

He scoffs and crosses his arms, leaning into your hold when you hug him. Even though you liked it, he feels ridiculous . And his chest feels all warm inside...maybe he is turning into a softie...

Kaeya:

Kaeya loves being romantic with you! Any kind of grand gesture like giving you flowers or bringing home a fancy bottle of wine are common when you’re together

He’ll bring home flowers at the end of the week so you always have fresh ones! Flora has started setting aside flowers in advance cause she knows Kaeya will stop by and ask for the same bouquet of cecelias as he does every week

You’ll be walking along the streets of Mondstadt, running errands for Glory and collecting payments from Katheryne, the warm summer breeze in your face...And you’re yanked into an alley between houses “There you are! I’ve been patrolling all afternoon looking for you, beautiful~”

He’ll press cool kisses to your face before pulling back to look at you again “I have something you might like” there’s a mischievous glint in his eye as he pulls a ring from his pocket. The gemstone in it matches the one in his earring. When you ask where he got it he just laughs and winks “Aha, let’s just say it’s from a ‘friend’”

Most material gifts he gives you will be from ‘friends’ (or informants) but if that bothers you, you can always tell him to knock it off pffttt

Otherwise the gifts he gives you will be flowers, wine and food. Why? Because those are things you get to enjoy together :’) he loves spending quality time with you! So when you get to sit back together and enjoy each other’s company??? He wishes he could bottle up that feeling of warmth and love he feels towards you uuugh

Be careful though cause when you start buying him expensive things, he’ll try to one-up you lmao

Childe:

Ah yes, our favorite rich boy! He has plenty of mora to spend on you! Trust me... He’ll spoil you

He spoils his family back home because he loves them so that’s exactly what he’ll do for you! You like those shoes? They’re yours! You like the food from that little stand? He’d buy the whole thing if you’d let him

He’s also famous for coming home from long work trips with a bunch of boxes full of stuff for you! Clothes, trinkets, anything he thought you’d like “Childe, you didn’t have to spend so much on me” “Aw~ Don’t worry about it!”

Childe can be a bit overwhelming at times so tell him if he’s stressing you out with his spending!! I mean, he probably won’t stop anytime soon and just tease you about it but he’ll think it’s cute that you’re worried about his bank account ;)

He tries so hard to make things for you but they almost always fail so he hides/throws out his attempts! It would be so embarrassing if you saw Tartaglia, the 11th Fatui Harbinger struggling so hard with knitting needles lmao poor guy!! This is why he just buys things

If you were to make him something though, he’d probably get emotional. It doesn’t matter what that thing may be! A pair of mittens, a painting, arrows for his bow, it really doesn’t matter! If you took the time to MAKE him something?? He’s gonna be totally speechless.

“Woah! Babe, this...This is...wow. I didn’t know you were so good at this” he’ll inspect every inch of it, eyes wide with childish excitement “I can’t wait to take you home to my parents, they would get a kick out of this”

Albedo:

Most of the gifts Albedo gives you will be made by him! So if you’re into handmade things, he’s your man!

He paints and sketches in his free time so when he has to be away from you, he’ll paint landscapes of the places he goes to give you when he comes home

He’ll also paint portraits of you and your friends/family if you ask! If he can make time, he’ll get everyone together to paint a big portrait of you all :)

You’re the only one allowed to see his u finished paintings. Albedo loves it when you come keep him company while he paints or works. He’s used to a nice, quiet lab but now that he has you, the quiet isn’t as nice anymore :( he likes having you with him to tell him stories about your adventures or complain about commissions, anything to fill the silence

Oh oh oh another thing he loves is this: the two of you sit on the ground beneath a tree, the sun in your faces. You between his legs with your back against his chest and you paint together on the same canvas :’) you’ve got birds chirping, wind blowing and you’re talking...Ugh, he feels so at ease and loved when you’re here

Your presence is the greatest gift you could give him! “You should stop by again tomorrow evening, I could use your help with an experiment or two” that’s a lie, he just wants you to get you alone lol

#genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin albedo #genshin childe #genshin xiao #genshin kaeya #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #Xiao x reader #albedo x reader

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sergiovinazzi · 3 years ago

Text

Stolen - Lando Norris x Reader (Chapter Three)

3.9k words - Rated M (language)

Here it is, my most favourite chapter to date, I hope you enjoy!

You smooth the skirt of your soft, black-linen sundress with shaky hands and pinch the bridge of your nose. You’re regretting not packing anything warmer than the denim jacket currently wrapped around your shoulders when you’re interrupted by the disgruntled sounds of your father calling your name through the phone speaker.

“What?” you ask, exasperated. “Sorry, I got distracted for a second.”

He repeats himself in annoyance, “I said, are you okay with staying at the hotel and ordering dinner for yourself?”

Staring at the restaurant in front of you, you debate whether or not to explain your situation to him. You realise, however, that he probably has enough to worry about after today’s events at Silverstone, and his daughter being out to dinner with another team’s driver probably won’t go over well.

“Yeah,” you lie. “I could use a quiet night in. Will you grab something to eat for yourself on your way back?”

Your dad hums, and you can tell that once he heard the confirmation that he didn’t need to get dinner for you, he lost interest in anything you had to say after the fact. It’s not difficult for you to understand why. Still, the lack of a verbal response worries you and you find it hard to evade the thoughts about Max and the accident. To most, the fact that he got out of the car and could walk was a good sign, but you’re still plagued by the various possibilities of what the hospital tests will conclude and just how bad the damage really is.

“Will you let me know if he’s okay?” you ask quietly, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing the phone closer to your ear, as if you could hone in on the doctor’s discussions in the background to find out whether Max was going to be alright.

Your dad simply hums again. “I’ll text you when we know more, but I’ve gotta go. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye, dad,” you murmur.

His quick Bye, love you is rapidly replaced with the end-of-call dial tone.

You slip the phone into your jacket pocket and take a deep breath, preparing to head inside the restaurant. You couldn’t help but clock the bright orange McLaren already stationed in the parking lot when your Uber arrived. You recognised it from a picture in the article you read when you first learned of Lando’s incident at Wembley. You’re thankful for the sign that he’s already here and you dredge up the remaining ounces of fake confidence left in your body, making an effort to quickly smooth down your hair before you open the door and enter the restaurant.

You’re immediately overwhelmed by the sheer atmosphere of elegance. Hand-painted horizons adorn the walls, encapsulated by swirling silver frames and accentuated by the small lights stationed above each piece of artwork, their job for the night to highlight the colours and shading the artist undoubtedly spent hours perfecting.

The savoury scents of garlic and soy originate in the kitchen and permeate across the premises with ease, challenged only by the rousing aroma of the stunning frangipanis adorning the entrance.

A woman you guess to be around your age approaches you with a notepad and pen in hand. She’s dressed in a black bodycon skirt with a hem that scrapes the top of her knees; her matching coloured button up shirt is tucked in smoothly. “Hi,” she greets with a small smile, “Would you like me to show you to the bar?”

“Oh, I’m actually supposed to be meeting someone here,” you tell her, eyes scanning the room for Lando.

You see him before he sees you.

He’s tucked away at a table in the corner, his brown curls peaking over the top of the large menu he's studying.

“Found him, thanks,” you tell the waitress and she returns to her station as you make your way across the restaurant towards Lando.

He looks up from the menu as your figure appears in his peripherals and he shoots you a wave when you’re a few metres away. You return his gesture with a small laugh and he stands, walking to the front of the table to greet you.

“Hey,” he says, enveloping you in a one-armed hug. “Glad you could make it.”

“Me too. I hope you weren’t waiting long,” you tell him, noticing the almost empty glass of beer in front of him as he returns to his seat.

“It wasn’t too long, don’t worry,” he reassures you.

The reality of the situation fails to present itself to you until you and Lando are seated silently across from one another. Your stomach is tightly wound with nerves but Lando appears just as anxious, noticeably fidgeting in his seat and frequently straightening his knife and fork. He’s dressed rather sharp compared to what you’d been treated to in the past, the blue and orange race suit discarded for a crisp white button down and black dress shorts. You wonder whether the outfit you picked out is suitable for tonight, although you cut yourself some slack. When you’d packed your suitcase on Wednesday, you’d hardly expected to spend any time outside of the Red Bull garage or your hotel room, let alone situated in a restaurant that was, now very obviously, out of your price range. The thought causes you to send a silent prayer to whoever would listen that you had enough in your spending account to pay your half of the final bill tonight.

The woman who greeted you earlier approaches the table to ask what drinks the two of you would like to order.

Lando asks for a cola and you look at him in confusion.

“You’re not going to have another one?” you ask him as he hands over his empty beer glass.

“No, I’m not a big drinker,” he replies, “Especially not during the season.”

“So why did you invite me to have drinks then?” you ask, clearly amused. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Lando Norris?”

He laughs, and raises his hands in mock surrender, “Hey! No, nothing like that. I just don’t really drink, I never have.”

“Yeah I kinda noticed that actually,” you tell him. “Even on your podiums you don’t drink the champagne.”

“I thought you didn’t watch Formula 1?”

You wish you could wipe the stupid smirk off of his face as you practically watch the realisation form in his head. “Have you been watching my old races?”

“No,” you retort somewhat unconvincingly. “I found some highlights on YouTube though, and your podiums from Spielberg and Imola were on there.”

“My podium finish in Monaco is pretty good too. I’d be happy to show it to you sometime, though, it’s a shame that you find racing so boring.”

You roll your eyes and laugh. “Shut up.”

The warm glow emitting from the industrial-style bulbs resting overhead doesn’t help the blush settling on your cheeks, and neither does the grin Lando shoots you. You shrug off your jacket and place it carefully on the back of your seat just as the waitress arrives with your freshly poured Caiproska. You thank her and trace your fingers along the cool side of the glass, collecting the droplets of condensation that form in hopes that they’ll provide some sort of relief from your keen fever.

Lando’s gaze is strong enough that you feel him watching you without having to look across at him, it transcends the need for observed confirmation and instead sets your body alight merely at the thought of it. The thrum of your heart threatens to escape the confines of your chest and you stupidly pray that he doesn’t hear it as the exposed skin of your chest flushes scarlet against the dark neckline of your dress. You clasp the charm that sits at your throat, pinching it between your fingers and allowing yourself to bask in the minimal relief the cold metal provides against your warm skin.

Lando wipes his sweaty palms on his shorts and takes a deep breath. “So, that was a pretty crazy race today, huh? I didn’t think I’d be able to hold onto fourth place, not with another Ferrari behind me and Daniel.”

“Yeah, it was crazy,” is all you can reply before delving back into your pocket at what you think is the sound of your phone receiving a message.

God, he thinks, he’s boring you half to death. He finally has you all to himself and the only topic he can string more than a few words together for is his job, treating you like a reporter he’s obligated to unpack his strategy for in the paddock. He doesn’t understand why he’s so fucking nervous tonight, he wasn’t nearly this wound up when he’d asked you out. Sure, it was an effort to keep his hands from shaking as he locked his car and crossed the parking lot, but he convinced himself it was just the gentle breeze passing through the city that set his flesh alight with goosebumps. He was simply excited, more than anything, to spend some one-on-one time with someone his own age, and if that someone happened to be a pretty girl, who could blame him for looking forward to it?

But then you showed up in that dress and suddenly the possibility that he’d see you out of it by the end of the night if he played his cards right became more and more realistic. His head spins at the thought of taking you home tonight. And the next night. And suddenly the thought is replaced by the images of himself coming home to you every night. After months overseas with nothing but timezone-dependent calls he returns to the comfort of your embrace, it’s your fingers that gently scrape the back of his neck as a confirmation that he’s home. It’s the warmth of your body and the lilt of no one else’s voice that cures the cavity in his chest that enveloped him the moment he shut the apartment door behind him all those weeks ago. He sees you seated on his kitchen counter, legs swinging as the coffee brews each morning, and asleep on his couch every night even after you’d promised if he let you pick the movie you’d stay awake this time.

He knows he’s in way over his head. He only just met you, what, three days ago? Yet here he sits, wishing there was some magic rule book that could explain how he could make sure his time with you never ends. He wishes he’d met you long before this week –honestly, it feels like he’s known you for much longer–so that the heat that rises underneath his shirt and the lump in his throat doesn't lend itself to the idea that he’s just some lust-fuelled boy. Your text messages make him laugh like no one else’s have before and the thought that you were watching him this afternoon, after you weren’t initially planning to stay for the race, had him feeling more confident than he has all season.

He knows he can’t tell you all that, it’s way too soon and you’ll think he’s crazy. He has to think of something interesting to talk to you about to fill the minutes before he feels it appropriate to ask you out for a second time, but instead he sits in silence as you refuse to meet his gaze. Your eyes won’t stop lingering on your phone screen, or darting around the restaurant, undoubtedly searching for distractions. Signs on the wall you could read to pass the time until the check comes, or maybe you’re searching for a saviour, a bartender to lock eyes with who’ll answer your silent plea: get me the hell out of here. He’s caught off guard when your eyes make their way back to him, his heart skips a singular beat like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He’s preparing himself to appear nonchalant in response to the immaculately crafted excuse you’re undoubtedly about to deliver in order to explain your sudden escape from his company, when a small smile forms on your lips instead.

He smiles back.

“Sorry,” he explains. “I know I talk a lot about racing. It’s kind of my whole life at the moment so it’s easy for me to get carried away.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m kind of used to it anyway. It’s basically all we talk about at the dinner table when my dad’s home.”

“Well, what do you like to talk about? I saw on your Instagram that you’re studying advertising, tell me something about that.”

You smile at his consideration and tell him all about your degree. How you’ve always had an interest in design and noticed how it could be used to turn a profit, right from when you would try your hand at creating the posters for your school’s bake sales and car washes. You tell him the story of your first paid commission for a digital advertisement, an intricately crafted Instagram post for an up-and-coming clothing boutique based in London. He asks questions in all the right places and offers his congratulations when you show him screenshots of some of your most successful work.

Conversation ebbs and flows easily throughout the night, the nerves that had you second guessing your decision to come earlier tonight eradicated. The food is tremendous, and your company even better. Your waitress returns with the final bill for the night and Lando hands his card over without hesitation.

“Hey, no,” you say. “Let me pay for my half.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells you. “This was my way of repaying you for bringing my watch back, remember?”

Oh. That’s all tonight was for. He felt obligated to spend money on you in return for the trouble you’d gone through to return his stolen timepiece to him.

“When I talked to the police they said they could get me the money back once the guy was caught,” you stress. “So, you don’t need to do that.”

He brushes your statement off with a wave of his hand and smiles when the waitress returns with his card and a receipt.

Your mind mistakes the reverberation of champagne flutes clinking together for the chime of your text tone and you instinctively reach into your purse, hoping to see the screen alight with good news. You’d settle for any news really, so long as it meant you would finally get a clear picture of what was going on, and you could stop embellishing the details of the worst case scenario you had designed in your head.

A 51G impact like the one you had witnessed today can do a lot of damage to the body, whether visible from the outside or not, and you hoped, more than anything, that the helmet and halo were enough to protect Max from anything more than a few minor scrapes and bruises.

You’re lost in a world of nightmarish outcomes until you remember where you are. Lando’s face is contorted in a concerned frown across from you.

“Everything alright?” he asks gently.

“Yeah, sorry, I thought I heard my phone go off but it must’ve been something else.”

“It’s getting pretty noisy in here, do you want to head outside?” he offers.

“Okay.”

———

In the slight summer breeze you observe the moonlight washing across Lando’s figure, illuminating his features softly and elucidating the closeness of his face to yours. The proximity allows you to easily breathe in the pleasant cedarwood undertones of the cologne that adorns his skin, and allows him to imagine the sweet ropy flavour undoubtedly lingering on your tongue from the maraschino cherries you’d so delicately placed between your teeth throughout night.

The crinkles that form at the edges of his eyes as he meets your gaze with a smile are priceless. You wish you could bottle the feeling they give you and save it for a day you need it most.

“I had a nice time,” he tells you, practically beaming. “I can’t remember the last time I went out after a race and talked about stuff other than racing.”

“Yeah it was nice, dinner was really good too.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you stand in silence while you wait for your Uber to arrive. Lando had insisted on driving you back to your hotel but you knew his car would cause a fuss so you declined and told him you had an Uber discount code that was due to expire. You make an effort to seem fascinated by the cracks in the sidewalk and Lando acts intrigued by the streetlights, both of you dancing around the question that lingers unspoken in the air.

Are we going to meet up again?

The alert on your phone informs you that your driver is only a minute away.

“He’s almost here,” you tell Lando. “Thank you so much for paying for dinner, you really didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s okay!” he insists. He shifts his weight on his feet before offering his arms to you.

You accept his invitation and hug him goodbye. You can’t help but notice the heat radiating through his thin shirt and feel his heart hammering between your two chests. His fingertips burn brands into your skin as they rest softly on your back and when he pulls back from you his hands don’t move an inch.

You catch his gaze and feel his thumb sweep softly over the fabric of your dress, underneath your jacket, before his lips meet yours in a searing kiss.

You’re caught off guard to say the least. His hands are hot on your back but his lips are soft and you’d be lying if you said they weren’t sending your head into a frenzy.

The rest of the day’s events are temporarily overruled by Lando kissing you; lying to your dad about where you are, wishing you could celebrate Lando’s fourth place finish with him in his garage, the repetitive questions aimed at you by the police that had you exhausted by mid morning, let alone Max’s accident.

Max.

And suddenly it’s not Lando’s but another pair of lips that are on yours, larger and hungrier and they come with a devastating reminder of what it’s like to sneak around with a Formula 1 driver. The lying and heartache that you remember all too clearly to feel like the kind of falling that jolts you awake from dreams.

You pull back and place your hands on Lando’s shoulders, staring down.

He’s instantly apologetic, bringing a hand through the front of his hair. “Sorry, I thought…fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say, removing your hands and wrapping them around yourself. “It’s okay, um my car’s here anyway so I gotta go.”

He just nods and shoves his hands into his pockets.

The slamming of the car door feels like a hammer pounding in Lando’s head. For a moment he had you. In his hand was the opportunity to make something great out of your meeting, but he wrapped his fingers inward and crushed it in an instant.

———

When you wake the next morning, your head remains sore from the screeching of car engines throughout your eventful weekend. Though not particularly unbearable at the time, the accumulation of noise over the three days you were at the track had definitely built up.

Instinctively, you check your phone, assuming that you would be confronted with your typical notifications: a recommended Instagram account, a liked Tweet, maybe even a text. You know you’re being optimistic to expect anything from Lando, your mind refusing to stop reminding you of how awkward you had made your time together the night before. Still, you yearn for any sort of reassurement that it wasn’t as bad as your overthinking had made it out to be.

You read the time and see that it’s almost noon. You know that your dad will be out until around two o’clock, already fussing about with work related ordeals in order to have things perfect for the race in Hungary. When you eventually awaken enough to read the notifications on your phone, you find it difficult to hide your surprise as you find a text and missed call from Lando, the nervous feeling that you endured last night returns, sinking into your stomach like a stone.

Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I had a really nice time last night :) Sorry if I was too forward at the end, I hope it didn’t ruin your night or anything.

Biting back a smile as you read the text, your mind is put at ease as you realise that he enjoyed himself as much as you did. You’re tempted to text him back immediately and tell him that he’s being silly, that of course he didn’t ruin your night. You wish you could explain your situation with Max and how, if it were any other night than the one your ex-boyfriend spent in hospital, you would have kissed Lando back. However, your plan to reply is thwarted as you notice the notification that informs you Lando also left you a voicemail. He must have called some time after sending his initial text message. Finger hovering over the play button, you are hopeful that it’s further kind words about your time together, or perhaps an invitation for a second ‘date’. If you could call it that. Nevertheless, you push the button.

The disappointed sigh he lets out causes your heart to stutter, before his voice crackles through the phone speaker.

“Hey, it’s me. Sorry for calling, I know I already texted you and um… I hate that I have to do this but I think it would be better for you to hear it from me instead of finding out online or something. I’ve just seen that someone got pictures of us together last night. I didn’t think anyone who knew me would be there but I guess it was still close enough to Silverstone that someone recognised who I was. I’m really sorry, but if it is any help I don’t think anyone recognised you because your face isn’t really in the photos. I’m trying to get them taken down and it’s not really on Instagram or in the news or anything, but lots of people on Twitter are talking about it. If there’s anything that I can do, please let me know. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen at his words, breath hitching in your throat as you process it. You replay the message over and over, as if hearing it multiple times will change the bad news Lando delivers each time. Instinctually, you close the app and scrub your hands over your face. You wonder about what exact kind of picture the photos he’s referring to imply. Does it paint a picture that could get you in trouble?

What about Lando?

Fuck.

What about your dad?

Your stomach drops at the thought of him seeing them. Getting caught lying about your whereabouts was one thing, but being caught with Lando Norris while you promised you were tucked up in the confines of your hotel room opens up a whole new world of possible consequences.

As if the universe can read your mind, it delivers your worst nightmare to you on a silver platter, piping hot and laced with venom.

A notification appears from your dad.

Call me when you’re awake.

-------

tag list @lovebynorth @its-astrotea-love

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