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luvsupa · 3 months ago

Text

I WANT TO HEAR YOU SCREAMMM!

summary: whatever you do, do not fuck mr.ghostface!

tags: ghostface!geto x fem!reader, naoya mention .., set in the 90s and inspired by fear street!!, smut, ōral sex (m and f receiving), knife play, slightly mask kink, humiliation kink, exhibitionism kinda, death, mentions of blood, etc, mdni

w.c: around 3.6k (sorry I got carried away …)

a/n: THANK U GUYS FOR 1.6K WAAAATTTT WE GOIN UPPPPP YEASSS

+ geto in tbis fic looks just like this fanart 🙂‍↕️

kinktober masterlist

you lean against the register, bored out of your mind as you scribble distorted faces on your company’s notepad. working a night shift sucks—especially a closing shift. you huff as the intercom blasts the latest rock song, a weak attempt to liven up the dead atmosphere. lately, the cd shop has been busy with customers buying vinyls, posters, and movies. ugh, it was so annoying having to scan the newest movie, scream. the line was always so long it nearly wrapped around the whole building!

you glance out the glass front doors, scanning the empty, dark streets, genuinely debating whether you should close two hours early since no one is coming. your attention shifts as you hear the bell ring, indicating a customer entering.

ugh.

your smile drops when you see naoya, your annoying coworker who flirts with you in the weirdest ways. he’s always condescending and putting you down until you found out from another coworker that he’s actually attracted to you. he walks toward you, standing in front of the register as if he were a customer. you honestly forgot he was still here after he said he would take a ‘five-minute’ break an hour ago.

“you don’t get paid to draw, now do you?” he says, leaning over to grab the notebook. you let him take it, but he rips the page clean, crumpling it in his fist. gosh, you hated when he acted like the manager. “anyways, I’m clocking out! must suck having to stay for another… two hours!” he laughs, glancing at the clock above. he giggles as he walks behind the counter into the bright red font ‘employees only’ room, leaving you scoffing in annoyance. you waste time fixing the decorations on the register as every minute drags by.

ring!

your heart stops when you hear the company phone ringing. who the hell calls at this hour? you pick up the corded telephone and force yourself into a professional tone.

“thank you for calling cursed tracks, how may I help you?” you say, lazily watching over the store. there’s a long pause, and your brows furrow. is this a prank call?

“hello—”

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

you burst out laughing, doubling over at the blatant prank call. there’s no way. it’s beyond cringey that you would be a victim of ghostface’s evil scheme. tears roll down your cheeks as you hang up the phone, your laughter still ringing in your ears. but then, you stumble backward, colliding with something solid—no, someone. your laughter halts as you slowly turn your head, gulping hard as your eyes drop in horror. screaming in genuine fear, you see him: ghostface, knife in hand, just like in the movies.

you stumble back into the counter, panic rising as you cry out, cornered in the booth. he drops his hand and bursts into laughter, and your brows furrow in confusion. he lifts his hand to remove the haunting mask, and embarrassment floods over you.

seriously.

“naoya, that wasn’t funny,” you snap, shoving him away as he continues to laugh uncontrollably. “you— you should’ve seen your face! I wish I recorded this— we would’ve been stars!” he wheezes, still amused as you find none of this funny. he continues to mimic your reaction, and you bite your lip to keep from lunging at him.

“stop wearing display costumes, asshole! you’re gonna get us in trouble,” you scold, turning away as he playfully bonks your head with the fake plastic knife. irritation washes over you.

“jeez, naoya— just leave already, you’re ruining my alone time,” you say coldly, clearly annoyed by his antics. you hear his footsteps retreating to the employee room, allowing you to calm down from his stupid joke.

you lean against the counter once again, watching over the store in boredom, your eyes feeling heavy as each minute passes. maybe you should really quit- you’re not getting paid enough for this. you roll your eyes at the ruckus coming from the room behind you—nayoa’s making way too much noise.

bastard, you mentally insult him.

you close your eyes to rest them, feeling exhausted from the long shift when you suddenly sense someone standing behind you. your eyes shoot open, and your heart drops again as you turn around to see nayoa in that damn ghostface costume.

“very fuckin’ funny, naoya,” you scoff, trying to ignore him, but he doesn’t move. he’s breathing heavily under the mask, staying still as if waiting for your reaction. you turn to yell at him, but the words choke in your throat. your eyes drop to the knife he’s gripping in his hand, and it looks too real—dripping with what looks like blood. your breathing quickens as you glance at the fake plastic knife that naoya left on the counter, your eyes twitching in disbelief.

“o-okay, naoya, you’re scaring me.”

“darling, who’s naoya?” the male voice says, distorted through the mask’s speaker. tears rush to your eyes as you see blood seeping from under the employee room door.

you step back, your back hitting the counter, trapping you just like before when nayoa scared you. the male steps closer, tears spilling down your cheeks as fear overwhelms you; you can’t call out for naoya—he’s fucking dead!

without thinking, you attempt to jump over the counter, but before you can touch the ground, you feel yourself being yanked back by strong hands. you squeal at how fast he moves, pinning you against the wall with one hand holding you in place and the other gripping the sharp, bloody knife to your throat. your eyes widen, the blade too close to your artery. if you looked up at the popcorn ceiling. you’d see the end of it—your life flashing before your eyes.

“oh pretty, you were just acting like a big girl,” geto coos, his voice soft yet terrifying. the grip on the knife loosens slightly as he pulls back his head, and your eyes remain shut, fear washing over you.

“y’r sooo fuckin’ nasty, huh,” geto comments, and your brows furrow as you stare at the creepy face behind the mask. he chuckles, and you follow his gaze down—oh fuck. you wish your body wasn’t reacting on its own! you’re grinding your hips against his knee placed between your thighs, your rhythm so subtle you didn’t even realize.

“let’s test how nasty you really get.”

those were the last words that echoed in your head as he had you behind the counter, knees grinding against the freezing floor, your jaw aching from the relentless thrusts. his thick cock slammed into your mouth with brutal force—so deep that you swore you could feel him in your chest, the bulge in your throat visible as he used you mercilessly. both of his hands gripped your head with brutal force, his long fingers tangling in your curly locks as he fucked your face like a filthy fucktoy. his groans, muffled by the infamous ghostface mask, sent shivers down your spine, the hollow black eyes staring soullessly at you as he threw his head back in ecstasy. the obscene sounds of wet gags and sloppy suction filled the store, the mess overwhelming—drool and spit spilled uncontrollably from your mouth, coating his shaft and dripping down your chin, soaking into the front of your work shirt.

your nose repeatedly slammed against his crotch, the rough patch of his pubes tickling against your skin, making you tear up even more. the strain in your jaw was unbearable, his fat cock stretching you wide, each thrust so forceful you thought your jaw might snap. but you kept your grip on his jeans, fingers digging into the fabric as your throat was pounded raw. his heavy black boot was wedged between your legs, you couldn’t stop grinding on him. each roll of your hips against his boot sent delicious friction through your core, and you were drenched, your panties soaked through your pants, sticking to your swollen folds. the slick sounds of your cunt rubbing against his boot mixed with the wet slurps coming from your mouth, each grind making you moan pathetically around his cock.

geto’s head dropped down to watch, eyes behind the hollow mask taking in the sight of you—a filthy, drooling mess on your knees with his cock buried so deep down your throat that a bulge swelled in your neck. drool poured from your lips in thick strings, and your hips moved desperately against his foot, grinding on him like you couldn’t help yourself. but he didn’t let you keep going. his movements stopped abruptly, and with a harsh yank, he pulled your head back off his cock, making you gag and cough, gasping for air. the sound of your desperate choking echoed through the store as strings of spit connected your swollen lips to his twitching tip, your eyes wide with lust and tears. the sight of you, completely ruined in your leggings, face soaked and pussy grinding against his boot, only made him harder, his cock throbbing in front of your face.

“you jus’ can’t help it, can you?” geto growls, his voice thick with cruel amusement as he grinds his boot harder into your cunt, your soaked panties doing nothing to dull the friction. the pressure sends jolts of filthy pleasure up your spine, making you cry out pathetically, your body writhing against him. his grin stretches behind the ghostface mask, those empty black eyes staring down at you, drinking in your desperation.

in a single, brutal motion, he rips you off the ground and slams you onto the counter, CDs clattering to the floor around you. your legs fly up, bent and spread wide, exposing you to him completely. his eyes rake over your body like you’re nothing more than prey. with a harsh tug, he rips your pants off, tossing them carelessly behind him. the moment his gaze lands on the soaked crotch of your panties, your clit twitches in response, your cunt clenching involuntarily, knowing what’s about to come. the fabric is practically see through now, drenched in fear and filthy arousal, and it only makes his smirk widen behind the mask.

your eyes are glossy, chest heaving as your legs stay bent up, thighs trembling with anticipation. you should be terrified, and you are—but the heat pulsing through your core is undeniable. the sight of him towering over you with that eerie mask, black eyes hollow and unfeeling, does something sick to you.

without warning, geto pulls a another knife from behind him, the blade gleaming dangerously in the store light. you gulp hard, a whimper escaping your lips as he waves it inches from your face, the cold steel sending a wave of fear coursing through you, but it only makes your cunt throb harder.

“don’t move,” he whispers darkly, dragging the tip of the knife down your neck, making your skin break out in goosebumps. the blade hovers over your chest, your nipples hardening as he traces your curves. he presses just enough to remind you of its sharpness, enough to let you know he could cut deep at any second. the threat lingers in the air, the thrill of it making your thighs tremble.

he doesn’t hesitate when he reaches your shirt. with a quick flick of his wrist, you hear the rippppp of fabric as the blade slices your work button-up clean open, exposing your bare chest. the sharpness of the knife cutting through the material like paper sends a shiver of fear and arousal down your spine.

“cheap shit,” he sneers, but the way your nipples perk in the cool air has his cock straining even harder. his hand moves lower, the tip of the blade dragging dangerously over your trembling stomach, inching closer and closer to your cunt.

you gasp when he finally reaches your panties, the cold metal resting against the swollen lips of your pussy. “y’know. . .” he trails off, voice thick with lust as he presses the flat of the blade against your clothed clit, the cold, sharp edge making you jerk involuntarily. “never had someone so . . .desperate in their final moments.”

it’s humiliating how your clit twitches at the contact, how your cunt clenches around nothing, soaked and aching for him. he notices, of course, the way your hips twitch toward the blade, and the wetness that’s already beginning to drip down your thighs.

“fuckin’ embarrassing,” he mutters, but his voice is laced with something darker—he’s getting off on this, on how soaked you are for him. the knife slides lower, grazing your inner thigh, just shy of cutting you, the scrape of the blade against your skin sending shivers through your body. you can feel your pulse in your clit, each drag of the cold steel only making you wetter, more desperate.

“this turning you on, baby?” he asks, his voice low and mocking. you can’t even respond, too lost in the filthy heat coursing through you.

with a quick flick of his wrist, the knife slices through your panties, the sharp blade cold against your slick folds. you gasp, your pussy finally exposed, clit twitching as the cool air hits your drenched core. the knife grazes your swollen lips, barely a whisper of pressure, but it’s enough to make you moan, your cunt clenching desperately.

he hums in approval, staring down at your glistening pussy, the wetness dripping from your folds, thighs trembling as you lie there helplessly. geto’s exposed cock twitches painfully at the sight, his eyes narrowing behind the mask as he drinks in how ruined you already are.

“fuckkk,” he mumbles, voice thick with lust. he lets the knife trail up, dragging it over your clit just enough to make you gasp, the cold edge sending waves of agonizing pleasure through you.

you’re fighting the urge to touch yourself, legs trembling with need, but he’s dragging it out, watching you suffer, savoring every filthy, desperate moan that spills from your lips. your cunt clenches again, dripping, aching for more, but all he does is graze the blade over your sensitive skin, keeping you on the edge, waiting for him to finally take what’s his.

without a second thought, geto rips off the ghostface mask, revealing his face in all its sinful glory. his long black hair cascades down his back, a few loose strands framing his face just right, giving him that perfect, messy look. your heart nearly stops at the sight—those silver piercings in his lower lip glint under the lights of the CD store. fuck. your breath catches as you realize just how devastatingly hot he is, a man who could ruin you in every sense of the word.

“f-fuck, mr. ghostface. . .you’re so fucking hot,” you moan, your cunt clenching involuntarily at the sight of him. he smirks, catching your reaction instantly, bringing the blade right back to your dripping cunt, but now it’s different—now you can see every twitch of that gorgeous smirk, every glint in his wicked eyes. nothing is processing in your mind at this point. you’re too far gone, body shaking as he holds all the power over you. he could do anything right now, and you’d let him.

geto leans in, inhaling deeply, letting your scent drive him mad before diving headfirst between your thighs. his lips find your cunt with no warning, devouring you like a fucking beast. his tongue plunges into your soaked hole with reckless abandon, the wet, obscene sounds echoing through the empty store. your back arches violently against the counter, the cold glass windows around the store only barrier between you and the outside world. if anyone walked by and caught sight of this—fuck, you’d be fired in an instant. but the thrill of that thought only makes the heat in your core burn hotter.

your body reacts before your mind can catch up, hands flying to tangle in his thick, soft hair, yanking him closer. he groans deep, the sound vibrating through your clit as you pull his head in tighter. mr. ghostface loves his hair being pulled—check! you think, feeling the way his body reacts to your grip, only making him devour you more ruthlessly.

his nose nudges your clit, adding to the torment as his tongue relentlessly works your insides, the metal ball of his tongue piercing sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. it’s so nasty, so fucking loud as he slurps up your juices, the slick sound echoing around the store. you can’t believe your body is making this much of a mess, slick dripping down your thighs, pooling on the counter beneath you. you’re losing it, completely undone by how he’s devouring you.

geto’s tongue is merciless, and just when you think it can’t get any better, he brings two thick fingers to your entrance, thrusting them in deep. the stretch makes your head spin, his digits spreading you open wide as his tongue continues to work your cunt. he groans low in his throat, the vibrations sending another wave of ecstasy through your core. the sensation of his tongue, his piercing, and his fingers all working together has you seeing stars, your walls clenching around him uncontrollably.

“fuck, look at you,” he growls against your cunt, his voice muffled but still dripping with arrogance as his fingers curl inside you, finding your sweet spot instantly. your eyes roll back, legs shaking uncontrollably as the tension in your belly coils tighter. your grip on his head tightens, forcing him further into you, needing more, more of that perfect, filthy mouth. his lips close around your swollen clit, biting at it just enough to drive you insane, while his fingers pound into you relentlessly.

you catch a glimpse of his face between your thighs, his half-lidded eyes fluttering shut as a moan slips past his pierced lips, his tongue flicking out to lick your slick from the corner of his mouth like he can’t get enough. he’s completely lost in you, ruthlessly making out with your cunt, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. the sight alone nearly pushes you over the edge, your body trembling violently as you feel your orgasm building, heat burning in your stomach, your cunt clenching around his thick fingers.

“listen to how talkative she is,” geto sneers, a wicked smirk stretching across his face. without hesitation, his free hand grabs the store’s telephone, fingers working quickly to connect it to the intercom. before you can process what he’s doing, he presses the microphone right up against your drenched, sloppy cunt.

your eyes go wide in horror as the filthy, wet sloshing of your pussy echoes through the entire store. the slick, obscene sounds of your cunt squelching and dripping around his thick fingers fill the air, amplified by the speakers. every thrust makes it squirt, the embarrassing symphony of your slick coating his fingers making your stomach drop with humiliation. you’re completely exposed, the sound of your body’s desperate reactions bouncing off the store walls, reminding you just how nasty this is.

the wet slaps, the relentless gushing of your cunt, and the squelching noises leave you utterly mortified. It’s so loud, so filthy that if anyone were to walk by, they’d hear everything—and know exactly what a mess you’re making for him. every slick, nasty sound screams your shame, broadcasting to the entire store that you’re getting off to a literal serial killer!

“look at you,” geto chuckles darkly, his voice dripping with arrogance. “so fucking nasty for me. all this for a killer? huh? you like knowing what a filthy slut you are?”

geto throws the telephone, letting it dangle by the cord, before roughly flipping you onto your stomach. your feet barely touch the ground as your chest presses into the counter- bent over, giving you a full view of the empty store. his eyes darken as he takes in your position, biting his lip at the sight of your ass wiggling back, grinding against his hard cock. you can’t help but plead, your voice breathy and desperate.

“please, mr. ghostface, you’ve been sucha tease,” you whine, turning your head to watch him as he toys with his lip piercing, eyes fixed on you like he’s weighing his options. before you can beg again, he makes his choice—sliding his fat, mushroom tip past your dripping entrance. the stretch of his tip slightly burning but- oh it felt so good. your body jerks forward with the slow, agonizing thrust, his thick crownhead teasing innn and outttt of your needy, aching walls. you cry out, wanting—no, needing—more.

desperation overtakes you, and you try to fuck yourself back onto him, but his hand comes down hard, swatting your ass. the sharp sting only makes your pussy clench harder, and you hear him tut in disbelief at how filthy you’ve become for him. “unbelievable how you’re this horny,” he sneers, gripping your hips tighter as if to hold you still.

“if you’re a virgin, just say—ahh,” you taunt- gasping loudly when his fingers wrap around the back of your neck, his grip firm as he pulls you flush against his broad chest. his thick tip remains lodged inside your cunt, teasing you with how little he’s giving, yet how desperately you crave more.

he leans in close, his breath hot on your ear. “i’d love to stay and prove your point,” he purrs, eyes flicking to the front of the store, where the bright blue and red lights of approaching police cars flash in the distance. your mind is too foggy, too consumed with lust to understand what he’s hinting at. “but baby, your little coworker—the one you never bat your pretty lashes at,” he continues, his tone darkening as his grip tightens around your neck, turning your head toward the ‘employee’s only’ door.

that’s when you see it—the large, dark puddle of blood seeping from under the door, your coworker’s lifeless body hidden from view.

“i-i don’t care, i wan’ you,” you plead, tears stinging your eyes as your walls grip his girthy tip, trying to coax more from him. geto chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. he turns your head back toward the front of the store, where the police cars are getting closer. his hand slips away from your neck, leaving you trembling as he cruelly pulls his cock from your addicting cunt, leaving you empty and desperate as he swiftly tucked it back in his pants.

tears spill from your eyes as you feel him slipping away, denying you what you need. “he’s the one that ruined our fun,” geto says, his voice soft but menacing. “and sadly…” his words trail off, and you freeze as you feel the cold tip of a sharp blade pressing against your neck. you gulp hard, heart pounding as the reality of the situation sets in.

“’m really sorry, baby, but i can’t have you snitching to the police, can i?” he whispers, and with a swift motion, the blade slices cleanly across your throat. blood trickles down in a warm line, your breath catching in your chest as your body collapses to the floor. the cold tiles beneath you feel distant as your vision blurs, the last thing you see is geto standing above you, pouting as he watches the life drain from your body.

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prael · 3 months ago

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Integrity

Newjeans Hanni x male reader smut

Happy Hanni Day!

Masterlist word count: 6,048 Kofi(donations/commissions)

It's a really long way to travel, and doubly so when you get fuck all from it. It's not like you were after anything ground-breaking—it's just a fashion show, after all.

It's about as close as you get to 'phoning it in' as a journalist. A few copy-and-paste interviews to accompany some snapshots of the season's latest designs. A couple hundred words, cut and run. Who wore what dress and who wore it the tightest. You could probably type most of it out on the plane without ever leaving your seat, and the public will still eat it up.

Somewhere over Austria, you mulled over that very fact.

Four days later, somewhere over Hungary, you're scrambling to do exactly that.

The whole thing is going fine. Fine, right up until it isn't. Maybe it's the sound of your fingers on the keys or the pocket of air that rocked the plane in that familiar gut-wrenching way, but her eyes are opening slowly. She's mouthing something, her fingers reaching around behind her, under the thin layer of blankets she is enveloped in.

"Are we there yet?" she murmurs, fishing her phone out of her blanket, sleepiness and all.

"Not even close," you say as flatly as you can, returning to a few words you'd been rolling over in your head for the better part of thirty minutes.

"What are you writing about?" She asks from down on her fully reclined seat that's moonlighting as a bed.

"You," you say with a small laugh, not looking away from your laptop.

"What about me?" Hanni's phone lights up, cutting through the darkness and finally making her face visible. The cabin is in full black-out since it's the middle of the night, and the dividers in first-class keep the two of you isolated.

"Your clothes, mostly. Generic fashion show stuff. Doesn't really matter. I put the names Gucci and Hanni Pham in an article and it sells itself. Instant clicks. S'like... two baits for one fish."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Probably is," you reply, knowing full well that there's little to be proud of in here. It's all surface level after all, since adding the things you know now might raise a few eyebrows. All the investigative journalism you've done over the past few days isn't exactly something you can write about. Though you can't deny it, an article about the beauty mark right below her waistline would probably send the masses into a frenzy.

You can hear her tapping on her screen a few more times, and with the silence in the first-class cabin at night, you find yourself focusing on those sounds more than your writing. Tap. Tap. Tap. Pause. Sigh. Tap. Tap.

"What is it?"

"Can't sleep," comes her whispered reply as she pushes herself up with that strange grunt you often hear her make, propping her pillow against the bulkhead and stretching out.

"Drugs not working?"

She shakes her head. "Not doing much."

"If my typing is too loud I can stop—"

"No, you focus. I'll find something to keep myself distracted." She locks her phone again and disappears into the darkness again, her soft breathing almost inaudible. Minutes go by. You manage a full two paragraphs before hearing her moving in the darkness again.

"Hanni?"

"Shh."

The slow shifting goes on for another few seconds, and in the darkness, you can make out the movement of her blanket as she slides off the chair down to your feet. What hits you next is her fingers reaching into your waistband.

"Hann—"

"Quiet," she whispers back. You quickly pick up the laptop from resting on your lap before her attempts to undress you can send it crashing to the floor. You're quick to place it on her seat and close its cover, out of her reach just in time before she slides your pants down.

She doesn't say anything, just lets you lay there in silence as her fingers guide you into her mouth. It is almost unnerving how used to it you have become in such a short time—how easy it has become for you, a supposed professional, to mix business and pleasure to this degree.

Hanni goes on unperturbed, wetting you between plump lips that trail up and down your length.

There is nothing you can do at this point but give in and just throw your head back. You grow harder under her touch and her tongue and judging by the way she grows more aggressive with her movements, Hanni is starting to enjoy herself as well. You can't quite make out her face, but you already know the look she's wearing. Can practically see it in your mind's eye; the look of wide-eyed desire as she takes you further in, lips rounding out over teeth as she welcomes every inch you give her until her cheeks cave in from sucking.

It's fucking burned into your brain. You've seen it so much, among so many other filthy expressions, you aren't sure if you could ever forget it.

Your hand reaches down blindly in the darkness until it finds the back of her head. The mere fact that the both of you are sitting on this plane hundreds of miles above the ground is instantly forgotten, fading out from consciousness and sense as she holds on, massaging your balls with one hand.

You let yourself lay there like this, fingers tangled in her hair, cock buried in her mouth. The thought of pulling her up and reciprocating is never far from your mind, but her grip on your hips is certain. This is all her right now. She's in charge.

She does not lack the pace to prove it.

Her head bobs up and down in the dark, tongue guiding you further in with every motion, lips slipping further down along your shaft, saliva pooling at your base. Her humming is growing—you can't hear it, but you can feel it. It resonates all the way through you, down the aching hardness she keeps stroking with her tongue, and even further to fuel that tension building in your lower stomach.

"Holy fuck," you curse under your breath, voice catching in your throat, lost in the motion of the plane's droning vibrations and her eager motions.

She pops you from her mouth, stroking your cock with a twist of a wrist and something she is doing with her tongue at the tip. As your eyes begin to adjust, you can see that spit has mixed with precum, dribbling down and over the back of her knuckles. It's lewd and over the top and everything that Hanni Pham, an innocent idol, pretends not to be.

"What? You want me to stop?"

"Fuck no," you whisper back, heart pumping in your ears. The feeling of her strokes, suddenly more controlled and tense without the benefit of her mouth is as jarring as it is fleeting.

"Didn't think so." With that, she brings her head back down to take you in her mouth again, hot breaths hitting the spit-slick surface of your dick. It's dirty and clumsy, messy and wet, and each time she swallows you, your entire body shudders with pleasure, coiling every muscle and feeling it climb upward until your stomach goes tight and you find yourself pushing her down, further, faster, until she is sucking what little air she has.

You are wound tight. Agonising, torturous tension pulling ever outward from your centre with each motion she makes. Every twitch of her tongue—fuck, does she work her tongue—spurs some sort of response down to the very tips of your toes.

It's a complete relapse. Back to four days ago, in the back of the car, with nothing but a divider between you and the driver. Cumming inside Hanni's pretty mouth and feeling her swallow every bit, then going on like nothing happened.

There's usually not a lot of enthusiasm for an interview. You have spent the whole morning being shrugged off by star after star after star. To them, they're there to look pretty. To show face and represent their brands. Answers are pre-written garbage to be regurgitated over and over like everyone is sharing the same stupid fucking tongue.

Then there's little miss backless-top. Denim jeans and a shirt with frills that barely keeps her modesty. Big, brown eyes and a smile that fills her whole face. Add her vibrance and energy and she really gets your journalistic gears turning. There's something fresh about her. How when you approach her, she engages you in a conversation like you're an actual person and not just some cardboard cut-out of a journalist.

Hanni Pham knows her shit. It's part of the training. She handles media with all the grace of someone born to do it and the energy of someone who loves it. So not only does she give you answers there and then, but when you make the request to sit down with her later and get all you need to do a whole feature on her, she's quickly turning to the powers that be to make it happen.

She should have been a ten-minute addendum. An hourglass figure strutting and posing and laughing her pretty little ass off for cameras for the adoring public. Instead, Hanni fucking Pham, you've got her. For hours.

So you sit down in a quiet little room you managed to reserve with the company card, and she's right across from you, with two glasses of water and a notepad on a table in an otherwise empty room.

"Is this going to be recorded?" She asks first, though looks sceptical and unprepared.

"Normally, yes. But I would prefer us to be a little more comfortable. I'm going to take notes, that's all."

"I like that." She claps, like there's an imaginary audience watching, even if you're the only one there. "So, what are we covering?"

"Everything. To start," you shift a little closer to the table. "Think of this being more about you rather than what you're wearing."

She gives you a little bit of a quizzical look.

"I know. Fashion show. Just, work with me here. The Gucci brand gets the clicks, I want to introduce those clickers to the girl wearing the clothes."

Hanni nods, her eyes light up a little and you can't help but notice how she is really fucking adorable. Up close, she's even prettier. It throws you off for a second as you bring up the notepad. The blank pages stare up at you—mock you. Where do you even begin?

"We met briefly earlier, and you're standing alongside stars from many industries and the lead designer at Gucci."

"Yes," she smiles politely. "That was exciting. Kind of surreal, really."

"So what does it take to be who you are? A girl of Vietnamese blood, born in Melbourne, working in South Korea and travelling to Europe for fashion shows?"

"Uhm, like, honestly?" She shifts in her seat. "Really a lot of hard work. Endless and stressful and never-ending hard work. You know? From singing and dancing, to the language lessons and the dieting and working out. It needs hard work and, well, a lot of luck too."

"You make your own luck." You nod, before jotting down into your notepad.

She tilts her head in response. "I suppose so. That's very quotable if you want. I made my own luck by working hard."

"And yet you're still young, what, turning twenty?"

"Just." Hanni nods.

"Barely twenty and making waves. Do you still feel like you have so much more to give?"

"Oh fuck yeah," she quickly confirms. "Wait, don't write that down."

"Oh... fuck... yeah." You sound out the words as you pretend to write them in the notepad.

"Hey!" Hanni laughs, and it's beautiful. It fills the room and just makes her glow with warmth. "Cut me some slack."

"Alright. Alright. So is this what you envisioned? Being twenty and being here?"

"You mean in this room with you?"

You laugh too. The jokes come so naturally to her.

"I'm happy where I am, it really was always my dream."

"To be in this room with me?"

"Fuck you," she laughs. "But, in a way, yes. I wouldn't be here if I didn't achieve my dream, would I?"

"That's very true. Then what is next for you?"

"There's no end goal." Hanni tilts her head. You follow her hand as it passes through her hair. She's studying you just like you are studying her. "I don't think I'll ever sit back and say 'that's enough.' That's not who I am."

"Ambitious. The question now is what are you chasing?"

"Is that you asking or the article?"

"Both," you say with a wry smile.

"For the article: I want to tour the world, keep improving and working hard. Release more music."

You scribble down a few notes and then click the top of the pen. "And off the record?"

"To spend a little more time focusing on myself. Time is fleeting. I should try and enjoy it while it lasts."

"You're young, pretty and successful. You have plenty of opportunity to do just that."

"Is that flirting?" she jokes, cocking her brow with a seductive smile.

"I'm just stating facts. I'm married to the truth." You gesture to your notepad. "So let's get back on the record, shall we?"

One delayed layover later and you're back in the air, and after your brief break to let Hanni drain you into her throat, you managed to get back to finishing up the article, so for the final stretch, the two of you are lying together in one of the first-class beds, and the conversation kept going.

"How are you single?" she's asking, while you're spooning her.

"Mostly because of my job. Definitely the baggage and constant travelling. Takes a special woman to not hate this."

"Sounds like idol life. I know so many idols who try to date but you just never have the time to see each other. We tour constantly and are always on the road. A long day of practising and comeback planning and comeback filming and comeback rehearsing, and more hours of sleep and eating to prep for the next comeback, you're always too exhausted."

"Such a shame." You lower the blanket that's covering her bare chest. Her breasts fill your palm as you caress them, gently. "A pretty thing like you deserves so much better than empty hotel rooms."

"Flirt," she playfully chastises, pressing her ass to your crotch before sliding forward to give you some friction, grinning at you over her shoulder. "These past few days, all the sex, I'd be lying if I said I couldn't get used to this."

It's a sentiment so heavily shared, that even now you're thinking about how easy it would be to pin her onto her back and mount her. It isn't easy to shake the thought when her body is practically inviting you inside her.

You're asking instead, still exploring her naked form, "How do you overcome the needs?"

"Other ways..." Hanni replies through closed eyes, her cheeks blushing. "Toys. Helps and hurts. They're no real substitute."

You run your hand over her toned stomach, heading between her thighs and gently prying them open. And there she is. Right fucking there, wet and waiting for you. Your finger glides over her lips and runs the full length of her, and she strains to contain a gentle moan. The problem is, Hanni is really fucking loud, and the walls of this pod are paper thin.

"I want you again," she whispers, and it's a real fucking dilemma.

She guides your cock through the folds of her pussy and leans back her head as she takes it. Fuck, it feels so good being back inside her. Wet and tight and made to grip. A small whimper escapes her when you are in deep, which she tries to swallow.

"You gotta be quiet," you tell her, while all but refusing to move inside her.

"I can be quiet," she grinds against you, but you're not convinced, and with a firm grasp of her jaw, you pull her closer.

"Can you?" you speak under her ear. "Can the oh-so-talented Hanni Pham control herself?"

She lets out another trembling little sound of pleasure while pushing herself onto your shaft. "I think so. All I know is you need to—yeah, right there. Yes." She closes her eyes and tries to stifle that deep groan of enjoyment.

You hush her before it gets too loud with a hand over her mouth. Tentatively, you begin moving, an aching slow journey backward and forward. As tight as her cunt is around your dick, the movement becomes easy. Dragging more pleasure from both of you and as she rolls her hips again, grinding against the motion, the whimpering returns.

"Hanni," you scold gently, pushing further into her with each stroke. "Shhh."

She mouths an 'I can't' into your hand which elicits a laugh from you and turns a smirk into a smile. You're rutting against her ass, savouring the feeling of your hips hitting her soft flesh. Ample curves along with a narrow waist begging you to embrace her. A pretty little thing taking all your cock and urging you on. It's hard not to go harder. "Need you."

"Careful what you wish for," you whisper as she tries to lean back her head in bliss.

Her tongue brushes your knuckles, and the soft sweep feels like a warm, wet invitation to probe further. A few seconds of uncertainty follows, and then her mouth closes around the tips of your fingers and starts to suck. Sharing the same excitement that has gotten the better of you the past few days of endless debauchery.

You sink your fingers deeper. She sucks harder, her moans stifled behind her pursed lips. Anywhere but here and you would throw her face down on the mattress, fuck her into a state of bliss. Make her beg for you and claw the bedsheets. Such an innocent girl, a girl who should have stayed wrapped in silk and lace, but who demands you take her, just a moment longer, just a bit rougher, and how can you refuse a beauty like that?

Just as Hanni settles and relaxes, her body is dragged into tense peaks of delight. Tiny gasps leak from around your fingers as you thrust deeper. She chokes as she orgasms, digging her nails into the arm that is holding her close, her face going bright pink. Sweat on her temples, on her chest. An earthly aroma of wet skin and hot breaths. She swears and curses the pleasure as you pump your orgasm between her thighs.

You fill her. For a while, you are one, grinding together in mutual fulfilment, breathing heavily and lost in your actions. The mess you're making runs from her sweet cunt, down her thigh, onto the bed.

The rush leaves the both of you exhausted. Hanni does nothing to resist you pulling out and emptying the last few drops over her ass. It is all over as quick as it began. It comes with a strange realisation of how natural it all feels to cum inside Hanni Pham.

It's not often that someone you interview not only takes your card, but doesn't immediately throw it away, and actually uses the number on there. You're in the back of a cab when it rings. Today's show has just about finished and while you didn't quite manage to snag another interview like the one you did with Hanni, it has been a good day.

"Did you get enough to write about?" is the first question she asks when you answer.

"I got a few bits here and there. Some surface-level stuff from others, but you gave me the marquee piece. I'll fluff up what I have with the spec sheets released and I'm sure it'll be a nice little exclusive."

"That makes me sound important," she giggles.

"You're a fucking celebrity, of course you are important."

"No need to swear."

"Apologies." There's a momentary pause. You let it linger on the call and soon enough, Hanni's laugh fills the silence.

"I'm kidding. Keep up that energy,"

"So, why are you calling? Usually, when I get a call it's to recant some statement or explain a misquote. Did I make a mess of something?"

"Well, not yet. But I have some ideas."

"Ideas?" You repeat, brows raising.

"Where are you now?" she asks, and for a moment you wonder if you shouldn't be answering.

"Taxi. Headed back to the place I'm staying."

"Where are you staying?" It's a strange question for her to ask, you think. Or maybe, it's not strange at all, but timing and circumstance have you considering the way it sounds.

"A hotel."

"Look to your right," she says, making a confusing request, but you look. Of course, you do. Outside the window, in the next lane over, stuck in the very same traffic as you are, is a familiar face. She gives you the widest grin, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Are you following me?" you joke.

"Do you want me to?" There's something playful in her voice, an attempt at seduction that's not exactly subtle.

"Hanni, what are—"

"Just answer the question," she interrupts.

And that's it. There's no reason to evade the truth. Lying to yourself gets no one anywhere. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Good," she murmurs, "you know, I'm still wearing the same outfit as I was at the event. These jeans are getting really uncomfortable." She pulls the phone away from her ear for a second and you hear her call out, "Driver? See that taxi on our left? Follow it, please. And can I get some privacy back here?"

There are some distant sounds from the other side of the phone. An affirmation of orders. Then her voice is right back with you.

"As I was saying, these jeans are really uncomfortable."

"Fashion can hurt," you say flatly.

"You're supposed to tell me to take them off or something. You're not very good at this are you?"

"I didn't realise 'this' is what we were doing." You've developed a stupid fucking smile, even if it's going unseen.

"Hmm, it can be." There is a moment of quiet as if she's thinking. "Hold on a second," Hanni says. There are some vague sounds you can't make out before she comes back to the phone. "Got bored of waiting. Now, keep talking will you? I like the sound of your voice."

"Hanni, what—"

"Just keep talking. Tell me what you think of me." She can't see it, but the look of confusion must be shining bright on your face. At a loss, and under duress, you speak your mind.

"Well, you seem nice." It's a weak first effort. "Very funny, a little confident. You must know you're pretty. Young, but driven." The words you mumble are stilted, but telling the truth.

"Really. You think I'm pretty?"

"Yeah."

"Not sexy?"

"Hanni, you're fucking sexy."

"Thanks," her laugh is like bells, ringing through the car. "That's better. What did you think of my outfit?"

"Daring. Not often do I see an idol go completely backless. Risky."

"Sometimes a risk is worth taking."

"Seems so."

"Tell me more. Tell me what was the part you liked the most?" Her voice drops from that relaxed confidence to a pitch that has your head buzzing with possibility.

"Nice waist. Really looked good with the way those jeans hugged your hips."

There's a long, heavy breath from the other end of the line. Something rustling and then a deep gasp from Hanni.

"What's happening?"

"Nothing. Keep talking. Describe me to me." Her voice is fraught with need, a small tremble in each word.

"Okay." That was permission, or demand, whichever is. You swallow before continuing. "Backless was a good choice. Your bare skin looks great. I'm sure those pictures are going viral already. Betting they are all over the web, all over people's phones."

"Are we close to your hotel?" Hanni strains out the question as if it were hard to say, every syllable wrought in pain.

"Close."

"Good, are you excited?"

"To?"

"See more of my bare skin."

Fuck. The image floods your mind like a dam breaking. Suddenly, she's right there, unclothed and naked and spread open. Suddenly, she's right there, moaning in pleasure, your cock lodged deep inside her.

"Yes," you groan into the phone. It's a painful admission. "Really, Hanni. Really fucking excited."

"So tell me, what are you excited to see?"

"Your ass. Love the way you wore the jeans just a little too tight. Really framed it."

She whispers, "That's all? Anything else, anything special you wanted to see?"

"Your breasts. Like what the top does. Would like to pull it down and play with those breasts." This whole thing is obscene. You're shamelessly spilling your desire to a girl you just met and she's loving every second of it.

Another soft gasp is heard on the call. It's more than that, it's her panting, short snatches of breath as her little gasps become regular, heated and urgent. "And then what?"

"That's a surprise. We're here." The cab pulls up and her car pulls in behind you.

"Room number?"

"Oh-one-two-two," you say, handing over cash to pay the driver and stepping out. "See you there."

It's deep into the night now, and her back is pressed against the wall as you're kissing down her neck. For a young woman who looks ever so innocent, you're quickly learning the taste of her body could have the alcohol industry aflame. She's intoxicating and you're addicted. Lips sucking, teeth pressing lightly against tender flesh.

She told you to not wear a condom, not this time. She described your first load as a waste, a sinful injustice after all the things she had done to wring it from you. So now you're back inside her, thinking only of how you're going to decorate her this time, about the moment you can't hold back any longer and cum, uninhibited, spewing mess over her delicate, flawless little body.

So you're just fucking nailing Hanni against the wall, her leg pulled up and knee hooking around your elbow. Holding her there, pounding her cunt the best you possibly can. Her hands scratch deep lines into your back, and her fingernails leave dull aches along your spine. There's something primal in the way she's urging you to fuck her harder, stronger, faster. She wants all of you, just like you want all of her.

You lift her other leg and hold her there, folded against the drywall. The steady pounding begins to churn her insides, to break her fragile body to the rhythm. She's mewling a mixture of sounds in your ear. Begging. Incoherent sounds of need. Then you feel her cunt clenching and tightening, a sudden strength to the grip she has on your shaft.

Hanni screams your name, howling it at the ceiling and the walls while you drive her ever deeper through an orgasm that's torn apart her expression. Utter beauty, sheer excellence. Her quivering pleasure comes with warmth between the two of you. She cums so hard that she goes limp in your arms. Your legs really begin to strain as you pump her full of cock, and her lips find yours again.

Your kisses are savage, the gnashing of teeth and the crush of lips. She's asking for more. Demanding more.

So you throw her to the bed, turning her over and she instinctively drags herself to her knees. Her palms run to the edge of the bed, clawing the blankets as you climb behind her.

"Do you like my ass?" She breathes. Your grip finds the firm flesh with purpose.

"Love your ass," you mutter, taking a hold and angling her towards you.

"Then fuck me." Hanni arches deep, pushing her soft ass in the air and pressing her tits against the mattress. She backs right up to you, begging to be fucked, once more.

The penetration is perfect. Balls deep inside this horny little girl, grabbing a fistful of her hair and using it as leverage. It's hard, it's fast, it's a brutal rut. A sweaty, wet fuck driven by nothing but raw need. She's too wet, too accommodating, clapping herself against your pelvis, meeting your every thrust.

It's not the time to think. Simply let instinct take over. Leaning into it and fucking her.

More words spill from her mouth. More dirty, lewd praises that have your balls aching. It won't be long now. Every muscle, straining with effort, pulls taut. It's such a fucking trip. This once innocent-looking person sucking the life right from the core of your being, bending over for you to force a hand along her spine and bend her further.

"Cum on me," she whimpers again and again. Over and over. She's pleading with you. "Please, cum on me. On my back. Cover me."

There's no further thought, no plan, no point of focus. Everything narrows down to the slick friction around your shaft, and your stomach starting to become strained from the endless effort. To how her ass shakes as your fuck yourself to the edge and how she cranes her neck to watch you.

At the very last moment, you draw out of her and jerk yourself, quick and urgent motions of your wrist. Hanni's knees give way and she lies flat, looking back and watching you as you start to cover her.

The first spurts land high, just beneath her hair. They collect and pool before forming and dripping forward along her shoulder blades. The next spreads across her shoulders. A thin coating that has you shiver as it lands. It goes on and on until you're slathering her in thick lines and ropes.

Something about the sight is so fitting, so delectable, as she lays there and writhes with need, adoring the feeling of being bathed in your lust.

Her expression is an aphrodisiac as she cries out in ecstasy. Her tongue runs across her lips, and then she lets out a soft lass before crashing her face into the soft bedsheets with a moan. Your fist is still pumping rope after rope of cum across her until every muscle feels drained, and you manage to collapse beside her on the bed. You trace a finger across her smooth, plump ass as you catch your breath.

"This is the life," Hanni gasps. "If I could just have endless sex, the world would be a far happier place."

You could have been forgiven for thinking it would be a one-off. Just one night of wild sex together before going your separate ways and never speaking again. A nice memory of a beautiful girl to always sit fondly at the back of your mind.

But the very next night, you're in her hotel bathroom. Sharing a bath together, her back pressed flush to your front. You can't fucking resist running a hand between her thighs, working gently over her cunt to hear the wonderful noises she makes.

"Please," she whispers over and over, grinding against your touch.

Ordinarily, you might tease her, and have her beg a little more, but there's nothing more enthralling than the sounds and sights of Hanni's face when she cums. So instead, you're knuckle deep with two fingers and curling them into her cunt, hitting that magic spot just a little more, faster and faster.

On the brink of her second orgasm in ten minutes, Hanni draws a noisy, shuddering breath, the exhalation quickly becoming a sharp, high-pitched wail that fills the bathroom, her eyes glaze as she climaxes. "Fuck. I—that's—more." Her head falls backwards and rests on your shoulder, "yeah, more."

Hanni's petite frame writhes in orgasm. Back arched, panting breaths quickly turning to gasps for air. Eyes flutter and roll backwards before shutting entirely. Every muscle in her tight cunt grips your fingers as waves of pleasure pour from deep inside. She grinds on you, riding the sensation of your touch through the spasms until they finally slow.

"You're so fucking cute when you cum," you kiss her cheek.

It's the compliment that has her rising from the water, she stands in front of you, her wet ass and thighs dripping as she turns toward you. "Me? Cute?" She smirks, lowering herself onto your thighs, resting your cock against her pussy. "Am I really?"

"Cutest fucking thing."

She guides your cock to her wet pussy, sinking down and slowly filling herself, the both of you making a whimper at the sensation. She's in no rush, though. She prefers slow, she favours long, lingering motions where you're all the way inside her and stay there for just a few moments before climbing once more.

Her rhythm has you melting back against the bath. Long, even strokes have her ass lifting and sinking, and she rolls her hips so elegantly that it's natural to reach for her waist and run your hands along her curves.

"I hope you don't think I'm easy," Hanni whispers, her fingers grabbing the hair on the back of your head, locking her hot body against yours, keeping you close, wrapping around you. "But I'm twenty and sex-deprived, so deal with it."

"You're allowed to enjoy sex. Nothing wrong with that," you answer through closed eyes, focusing only on the heat, the skin, the feeling of your cock rubbing through her.

With a mischievous chuckle, she rests her weight on you. Chest to chest, nose against nose.

"Careful," she whispers, her voice fluttering in between soft sighs of excitement. "I could get used to having a man around. Someone willing to get me off, over and over again. You might be stuck with me. Wouldn't that be scandalous? A reporter who's secretly fucking a star like me?"

That alluring, seductive voice makes your body tense. Her kiss threatens to undo you right then and there. She's riding you harder now, bouncing her ass in your lap. Driving the pleasure, the friction, harder and deeper.

"I have a confession to make," you speak with heavy breaths, trying to restrain yourself. "I think I could get used to this. Every day. If I could."

"It's a deal then. How about we celebrate by letting you blow a load inside me? Would you like that?" She nibbles at your earlobe, giggling as she sucks it between her lips. "How good would it feel to feel your hot, thick cum slide all the way up inside me?"

"So fucking good."

"And maybe tomorrow I'll keep you inside me and let you fill me all over again, and maybe I'll do the same the day after." There's a devilish smile across her face as she continues, "I'll ride you again and again and again..."

She keeps repeating it, the word stamped into your head over and over and each time she says it, she drives her hips down into you. Hard. The water ripples. Her ass slaps the tops of your thighs. It's a relentless rhythm, an insistent grind, a desperate desire for more.

"You're filthy," you tell her as you take a firm grip on her ass, her flesh filling your grasp and the muscles rippling through her skin as she moves.

"Maybe. Maybe I am, and maybe you like it." She laughs. A sound as sweet as honey.

"You know I do."

"Then show me how much. Fill me. Let it go."

That's all you need, just her words and the way she fucks you. She's the one doing all the work, and it's all the reason you need to relax and let the bliss consume you.

Hanni is kissing you when it hits. She swallows your groans of release, sucking them into her lungs. Her hands press down into your shoulders, nails sinking deep into your skin.

She doesn't stop moving, not once. Keeps grinding. She maintains the pace until you can't take any more. Until there's nothing left. Only then does she ease her motion, settling onto your lap, keeping you deep in her.

"That was amazing," she sighs.

"Fucking was."

#hanni smut #kpop smut #male reader #kpop fanfic #m reader #newjeans smut #kpop fanfiction #hanni x reader #smut

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pucksandpower · 6 months ago

Text

Settle Down

Oscar Piastri x Red Bull driver!Reader

Summary: sometimes there’s so much energy drink flowing through your veins that you’re physically incapable of sitting still, but Oscar always has a way of helping you settle down

You can’t sit still, as usual. Even though you’re supposed to be relaxing in the Red Bull motorhome between practice sessions, you’re bouncing around like a pinball, fueled by way too many energy drinks.

“Babe, can you please try to calm down for five minutes?” Oscar sighs, though there’s an amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Your boyfriend has endless patience when it comes to your hyperactive tendencies.

“I can’t help it!” You protest, nearly vibrating out of your skin with pent-up energy. “My body is literally powered by Red Bull!”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. “Is that so? Well in that case ...” He gets up from the couch and pulls you into his arms, holding you still against his chest. You let out a grumbling noise of frustration but don’t fight it as he rocks you gently back and forth.

“This is undignified. I’m a professional race car driver, you know,” you grumble, even as you start to feel your racing heart slow thanks to Oscar’s soothing presence.

“A professional menace, more like,” he teases. “But you’re my menace.”

You swat at his arm half-heartedly. “I’m surprised you can even stand being around me. I must drive you crazy.”

“On the contrary, I quite enjoy the challenge of trying to tame you.” Oscar grins wolfishly and pulls you even closer. His warm brown eyes are filled with open affection. “Though I have to admit, sometimes you exhaust even me.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t try so hard,” you retort, though you make no move to pull away from his embrace. If you’re being honest, having Oscar’s strong arms wrapped around you is the only thing that ever really makes you feel calm and grounded.

He sees right through your bravado as always. “You know that’s not true. This is the only way I can get you to hold still for five seconds.”

Oscar brushes a stray lock of hair out of your face, letting his fingertips linger on your cheek. You shiver slightly at his gentle touch. Even after two years of dating, the chemistry between you is as electric as ever.

“Well?” He prompts after a few moments of contented silence. “Feeling a bit more settled now, my kangaroo?”

You make a face at the teasing nickname but have to admit he’s right. Already you can feel the frantic buzzing under your skin starting to dissipate thanks to Oscar’s calming presence and soothing caresses.

“Maybe a little,” you concede grudgingly. You lean further into his embrace, resting your head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. “You always did have a weird power over me.”

“Just be glad I only use my powers for good and not evil,” Oscar quips. He brushes a light kiss over your forehead and you melt even further into his arms.

You’re both quiet for a little while, just enjoying each other’s closeness and the rare moment of peace before the storm of tomorrow’s qualifying. At last Oscar breaks the comfortable silence.

“You know, I’ve been thinking ...”

You tense a little at his words, knowing from experience that those four little words are often the precursor to something you may not want to hear. “That’s never a good sign,” you mutter warily.

Oscar huffs out a quiet laugh. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. At least I don’t think so ...” He takes a deep breath like he’s steeling himself. “I was just wondering … have you ever thought about us getting married someday?”

You stiffen in surprise, definitely not expecting that. “Married?” You pull back just enough to get a better look at his face, searching his expression for any signs he might be joking. But Oscar just gazes at you steadily, pure sincerity in his warm eyes.

“You’re really asking me that? Right now?” You blink rapidly, trying to get your whirling thoughts under control.

“Well, why not?” Oscar says simply. “We’ve been together for two years, we’re both doing well in our careers. And you know how I feel about you. What’s holding us back from making it permanent?”

“I … I don’t know,” you admit, momentarily at a complete loss for words — which is rare for you. “I guess I’ve just never really thought about it before. I mean, you know how single-minded I can get when it comes to racing.”

“And you think I’m not the same way?” Oscar arches an eyebrow. “Believe me, babe, I understand that drive and ambition better than anyone. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have both career success and a lasting relationship. I know I want you by my side for all of it.”

His words make your heart flutter rapidly against your ribs. You search Oscar’s face, looking for any hint of doubt or hesitation. But you see nothing but sincerity, determination, and that all-consuming love and devotion he’s only ever directed at you.

Slowly, a brilliant smile spreads across your face. “Oscar Piastri … are you proposing to me right here in the Red Bull motorhome?”

At your words, Oscar dips his head sheepishly, a faint blush coloring those charmingly sharp cheekbones of his. “I, ah … I didn’t actually mean for it to come out like that, to be honest. I really did just want to gauge how you felt about the idea first before making any actual proposals.”

“Well, that was a terrible job of it then,” you tease, feeling a smug satisfaction at having flustered the normally cool and composed Oscar Piastri for once. “I’m afraid you’ve well and truly proposed now, sir, there’s no taking it back.”

“Is that so?” Oscar’s eyes sparkle with sudden mirth, that wolfish grin creeping across his face again. “Well then, in that case ...”

He pulls you close once more until you’re pressed flush against him. “Y/N Y/L/N,” he begins in a low, throaty rumble that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. “Will you make me the happiest man in the paddock and agree to be my wife?”

There’s a heavy pause as you simply gaze into Oscar’s eyes, caught up in the sheer depth of emotion swirling in their depths. Those beautiful brown pools are filled with unbridled adoration, devotion, and a love so palpable and all-consuming it almost steals your breath away.

Slowly, you lean in until your foreheads are resting together, noses brushing in an intimate caress. When you finally find your voice again to answer, it emerges as a hushed, reverent whisper.

“Yes … god, yes, Oscar. Of course I’ll marry you.”

A brilliant smile breaks across Oscar’s face, brighter and more dazzling than the sun. He crushes you to him once more, arms wrapped so tightly around you that it feels like he’s trying to meld the two of you into one being through sheer force of will.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, just holding each other close and reveling in this new promise stretching out before you both. It could be seconds or it could be hours lost in the endless depth of emotion and sensation sparked by Oscar’s touch and fervent kisses.

At long last, you force yourself to pull away, just enough to meet his gaze with a impish grin. “You know, we’re going to have to tell our teams about this. Can you just imagine the reactions?”

Oscar chuckles, tucking an errant strand of hair behind your ear with utmost tenderness. “I can only imagine. Though they’ll likely be more shocked it took us this long, to be honest.”

You laugh freely at that, nodding in acknowledgment. “Fair point. We haven’t exactly been subtle about our feelings for each other over the years.”

“Not at all,” Oscar agrees with a wry smirk, raising your joined hands to brush a feather-light kiss across your knuckles. Despite his teasing words, his eyes are soft with pure adoration. “But you’re worth being unsubtle for. I would shout my feelings from the rooftops if you asked me to.”

You feel a blush heating your cheeks at his ardent sincerity. “Good thing I’m not asking then. I’d hate to have to share you with the entire world.”

“Never,” Oscar vows fervently, pulling you close once more. “You have my heart, kangaroo. You’ve had it from the moment we met. It will always be yours, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Then I guess you’d better get used to me holding on to it forever,” you murmur, grinning up at him with sparkling eyes. “Because I’m never letting you go, Mr. Piastri.”

Oscar’s returning smile is brilliant and full of devotion. “That’s the plan, future Mrs. Piastri.”

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you both breathless and clinging to each other. When you finally part, foreheads resting together, Oscar brushes the pad of his thumb over your swollen lips with a look of such tender wonder that your heart clenches.

“God, I love you,” he rasps out, voice low and throaty with emotion. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you by my side.”

You feel your own eyes stinging with happy tears at his words. “I love you too,” you whisper back fervently. “More than I could ever say.”

For a long moment you simply gaze at each other, caught up in the overwhelming love and emotion sparking between you. Then you let out a watery laugh, swiping at the treacherous tears escaping the corners of your eyes.

“We’re being totally ridiculous, you know that?” you say with a teasing grin. “Two grown adults, crying like lovesick teenagers in the middle of a team motorhome.”

Oscar chuckles, brushing away the dampness on your cheeks with gentle fingers. “I think we’ve earned the right to be a little ridiculous on the day we decide to spend forever together, don’t you?”

You have to concede he has a point. Heaving an exaggerated sigh, you curl further into his embrace, reveling in the steadying warmth and strength of his arms around you. “I suppose that’s fair. Though you’d better prepare yourself for a lifetime of dealing with my particular brand of ridiculousness.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Oscar says simply, dropping another soft kiss on your upturned lips.

You hum into the kiss, all the frantic energy that had thrummed under your skin earlier now replaced with an unparalleled sense of peace and contentment. It seems Oscar’s trick of using gentle caresses and soothing touches to calm you is finally complete — he’s managed to lull you into a state of perfect tranquility simply by promising to be yours forever.

As if he can read your thoughts, Oscar murmurs against your hairline, “There, you see? I knew I could get you to settle down one of these days.”

You let out an amused snort, not even trying to deny his teasing words. There’s no point — you both know Oscar has an almost preternatural ability to silence the constant buzz in your mind and body with just his presence alone. He’s the only one who can slip past your whirlwind defenses and soothe your restless spirit into a state of true serenity.

“Yes, alright, you win,” you concede drowsily, the combination of Oscar’s warmth and steady heartbeat under your ear lulling you into a state of contented haze. “You’ve officially tamed me. I’m defenseless against you.”

“Good,” Oscar rumbles, sounding immensely satisfied as he tightens his arms around you possessively. “I’ll be sure to take full advantage of that from now until forever.”

And somehow, despite the teasing lilt to his words, you know with certainty that he means every syllable. With a contented sigh, you let your eyes drift shut, feeling more at peace than you ever have as you melt into the protective circle of your new fiance’s embrace.

Yes, you think hazily as the tension finally seeps from your body entirely. This wonderful and beautifully stabilizing man is going to be yours forever … and you can’t wait.

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stealthetrees · 9 months ago

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You know what? Fuck that.

Marshal Commander Fox is entirely unhinged. Batshit crazy. He hides it extremely well under a rock solid mask of professionalism but the second he is out of sight he will be doing something illegal.

If questioned Fox will simply say “Government property can’t break the law” or It’s not murder if I’m not a person”

He commits treason daily and has definitely murdered people.

He faked Fives’ death and regrets it because he and Dogma are too chaotic together. He fakes so many deaths. He got his grubby little hands on an entire squad of commandos somehow.

This headcanon is the ‘prove me wrong’ kind of canon compliant and I will not take criticism.

#star wars #tcw fox #commander fox #marshal commander fox #the clone wars #tcw #star wars tcw #coruscant guard #unhinged fox au

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p0orbaby · 3 months ago

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First Love

summary: you have a new admirer, alexia isn’t a fan

warnings: none

a/n: i cant remember if this was request or not so if it was i apologise but ive lost it. if not, well done me for thinking of my own plot for a change

word count: 1.2k

You and Alexia arrive fashionably late, because, well, it's Alexia’s family, and you’re not about to sacrifice your sanity to be early for a gathering that’s going to last an eternity anyway. She’s already stressed because she knows every cousin, uncle, and long-lost relative is going to pester her with the usual questions. How’s football? How’s the knee? When are you going to settle down and give your mother some grandchildren? Not to mention, the subtle but unmistakable scrutiny that comes with introducing you—again—like you're the new pet hamster instead of the person who’s been sleeping next to her for three years now.

You’re prepared, though. You’ve got your A-game smile, and you’re ready to nod at all the right moments while maintaining an impressive and unwavering level of small talk. You’re a pro at this by now. You can discuss the weather in ways that would make any other Briton jealous.

The event is held at a distant cousin's place—a sprawling estate that screams “we have more money than common sense.” The house is big, too big. The kind of place where you could lose a child or three and not notice until the next family reunion. The garden is a maze of strategically placed garden furniture, various expensive but uncomfortable chairs that no one sits in, and a kid's bouncy castle that looks like it was imported from the set of some cheesy Netflix original with mediocre reviews.

You’re halfway through your first glass of sangria when you notice him—a small boy, around five or six, with that messy hair that suggests he’s been on a sugar bender since eight this morning. His eyes are locked on you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world. He’s got this look that can only be described as pure, unfiltered determination, like he’s decided, at that very moment, that you’re going to be his new best friend, and there’s absolutely nothing you or anyone else can do about it.

"He's cute," you whisper to Alexia as the boy starts to waddle over, his shoes lighting up with every step. Alexia glances at him, then back at you, her brow furrowing ever so slightly.

"Yeah, cute," she says, her tone dry enough to rival the Sahara. You can tell by the way her jaw tenses that she’s already not thrilled with this kid, which is hilarious because you’ve seen her face down a team of professional athletes without breaking a sweat. But a small child? Apparently, that’s a whole different kind of threat.

The boy—let's call him Diego, because of course his name is Diego—sidles up to you with all the subtlety of a charging bull. He stares up at you, his eyes wide and sparkling, like you’re a rock star, and he’s your biggest fan.

"Hola," he says, in that high-pitched voice only kids or cartoon characters can pull off without being annoying. Except, it’s already a little annoying, because he’s completely ignoring Alexia, and that’s a crime in and of itself.

"Hi there," you reply, keeping your tone light and friendly. You glance over at Alexia, who’s now sipping her drink with a look that suggests she’s contemplating how many more family functions she can skip without starting a feud.

Diego looks at Alexia briefly, as if she’s some sort of obstacle, then turns his attention back to you, his smile growing wider. "Wanna play?"

You blink. Play? You haven’t ‘played’ in, what, fifteen years? Maybe more? You’re more accustomed to adult games now, like “Where did I put my phone?” and “How long can I avoid doing laundry?” But Diego doesn’t seem to care. He’s already grabbed your hand, sticky fingers and all, and is pulling you toward the bouncy castle like it’s the best idea in the world.

You glance at Alexia, who’s now watching the whole thing with an expression that would be hilarious if it weren’t so serious. There’s a thin line between her eyebrows that you’ve learned means danger. You try to give her a look that says, “Help me,” but she just raises an eyebrow, as if to say, “You got yourself into this, deal with it”

Before you can protest, you’re inside the bouncy castle, surrounded by kids who are all screaming with the kind of joy only children and maniacs experience. Diego is jumping up and down, laughing like a crazy person, and you’re doing your best to stay upright, which is difficult because it’s been a while since you were five.

Outside, you can see Alexia, arms crossed, watching you with a look that’s a mix between amusement and something else—something that looks suspiciously like jealousy. You bounce awkwardly, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, but Diego is relentless. He’s now trying to get you to jump higher, and you’re seriously starting to consider if this is how you go—death by bouncy castle.

After what feels like an eternity (but is probably just ten minutes), you manage to escape, stumbling out of the bouncy castle like you’ve just survived a natural disaster. Diego is still inside, shrieking with laughter, blissfully unaware of the drama he’s just caused.

You make your way over to Alexia, who’s watching you with that amused, slightly irritated expression still firmly in place.

"Having fun?" she asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, tons," you reply, wiping sweat from your brow. "Best day of my life”

"You know, I’m not the jealous type," she begins, her voice low and dangerous, "but what’s mine is mine. End of story”

You can’t help but laugh, because of course Alexia would be jealous of a five-year-old. It’s ridiculous, and yet, somehow, perfectly understandable. "I think I’ve been claimed by someone else," you say, grinning. "You might have some competition”

She rolls her eyes but you can tell she’s not really mad. At least, not in the serious way. "He’s got good taste," she admits grudgingly, "but don’t let it go to your head”

"I wouldn’t dream of it," you reply, leaning in to kiss her cheek, because you know that’s what she wants, even if she’ll never admit it.

The rest of the party is a blur of forced smiles, endless small talk, and more sangria than you probably should’ve had. Diego pops up a few more times, always eager to drag you back to the bouncy castle or show you some new toy, but each time, Alexia is there, gently but firmly steering him back toward his actual family.

By the end of the night, you’re exhausted, and Alexia is finally starting to relax, probably because Diego has finally passed out somewhere, giving up on his quest to monopolise your attention.

As you leave, hand in hand, you glance back at the house, wondering how long it’ll be before you’re back here again, playing the role of the supportive girlfriend in a family that still doesn’t quite get it. But then Alexia squeezes your hand, and you realise it doesn’t matter. Because at the end of the day, what’s hers is hers, and what’s yours is yours, and that’s all there is to it.

Besides, next time, you’ll be ready. You’ll bring your own bouncy castle and show Diego who’s boss.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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coolemmasulivan2 · 7 months ago

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It's Always You

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: You and Lando share a mutual attraction, but you've kept things professional due to career implications. However, after his first win race, things may change, blurring the lines between friendship and something more.

Word count: 6013

Author's note: First time writing about Lando. I started writing this on the day of the Miami Sprint and then when he won the next day I told myself I would publish it. Tell me what you think.

It's you, it's always you Met a lot of people, but nobody feels like you So please don't break my heart, don't tear me apart

Miami heat wrapped around you like a steamy August day and even if American tracks weren't your thing, the paddock was definitely one of your favourites.

Working with McLaren since 2019 felt like winning the lottery. Travel, new faces, and a taste of different cultures – it was everything you dreamed of. Hospitality put you in the middle of it all – the team, the fans, even the families. Being young, you clicked quickly with the drivers: Carlos and Lando from the start, and Oscar when he joined.

Carlos was your rock, a protective older brother even after his move to Ferrari. Daniel was a blast, always making you laugh with his great sense of humor, and Oscar's calm personality mirrored yours. He became your trackside best friend, sharing everything over coffee and off-track adventures with his girlfriend, Lily.

Then there was Lando. Your relationship with Lando was different. Unlike Carlos, you saw him not as a brother, but as a friend... friends that had feelings for each other.

He was shy at first, stealing glances when you weren't looking. But time made his shyness disappear. Flirting became his game, playful touches here and there and unexpected hugs wherever he felt like it. You ignored the signs until his confession left you speechless in the middle of the night in Monaco.

"I have something I need to tell you." He said.

It was 2020. Monaco was hot that night. Everyone at the team dinner was buzzing about the upcoming classic Monaco Grand Prix. Like always, after the dinner, Lando offered to walk you back to the hotel where the team was staying – nothing new. You even joked about Carlos doing the same thing.

Like all the other times, you didn't think much about the gesture. It was something he used to do, and in your head, it was just a friend helping the other. After all, Carlos did it from time to time. Why should it be any different with Lando?

"What's up?" You asked, the streetlights shining on his face. "Getting nervous about the race? The car feels amazing, right?"

Lando messed with his hair. Your voice, normally like music to him, made him forget what to say. "Uh, no, not the race."

"Then what is it? Now I'm the one freaking out." You tried to lighten the mood with a laugh. "Did you lose your house key again? You're not staying with me."

He wished you'd just be quiet. "Fuck, Y/N!" He blurted out. "I like you." The words came out fast, just like his orange F1 car. Did you hear him right? When he saw the surprise on your face, he knew you had. "I, uh, I mean more than a friend." He stammered. "Like, a lot. You're always in my head, even in my dreams. All the fucking time. I can't even look at other girls because you're all I see. I just had to tell you. I couldn't keep it in any longer."

You suddenly froze, your heart pounding like a drum solo. Time seemed to slow down, with only the two of you and the warm glow of the streetlights as the real things around. You wanted to speak, but the words simply wouldn't come out.

"Please say something!" Lando begged, his voice shaky. "Anything! Even if you don't like me back, just tell me. But don't let this mess up our friendship!"

It didn't destroy your friendship, but it sent your world spinning. You realized your little crush on the driver was a full-blown fire, and with each passing year, the flames only licked higher. But every time Lando flirted, the same words you had said to him tumbled out: "It's inappropriate."

He hated those words. He'd always argue with you about it. "Come on, I like you and I know you like me too. I know it! Who cares about work? We can keep it quiet. It can be our secret." He always had a solution for every worry, but you remained strong.

You wanted to believe that you could remain strong.

The problem was, your feelings were turning into a rebellion. Keeping them bottled up was a losing battle, and you weren't sure how much longer you could resist the pressure from the driver.

Lando strutted into the paddock beside you, his black clothes and crisp white shirt doing nothing to hide his cocky grin. "Finally figured out why I haven't won a race yet." He announced, his cologne a heady wave in your direction.

You peeked over your sunglasses. "Oh yeah, Sherlock? What's the conclusion?"

He leaned close, his voice a low rumble. "No good luck kiss from you, that's what! Maybe we should fix that? Make it a tradition if it works."

A laugh escaped you. "So it's my fault, huh?"

"Exactly!" He grinned. "And if I lose again without a kiss, everyone's gonna hear about it."

"That's your best shot at flirting?" You teased. "Seriously, Lando, you're terrible."

A playful smirk tugged at his lips. He draped his arm around your shoulder, leading you towards the McLaren hospitality area. "The only girl I flirt with is you, love. Guess you'll have to show me how to improve."

Heat flooded your cheeks, betraying your fake indifference. Lando wasn't an idiot. He knew you felt the same way, a truth as clear as the Miami sunshine.

A booming voice shattered the playful tension. "Whoa there, puppet, keep your hands off of her!"

Carlos emerged behind you, clad in his new Ferrari blues. You turned to see him glaring at Lando, who simply scoffed and moved away, the arm around your shoulder replaced by Carlos's protective arm.

He leaned down, a quick peck on your head followed by a wink aimed at Lando, who rolled his eyes with a playful huff.

"Or what?" Lando challenged.

Carlos pretended to consider, then grinned. "Or I'll run you off the track at the race. And don't even think about getting jealous. It's a bad look on you."

Agree to disagree, you thought. Jealousy did look good on him. The way he tapped his foot impatiently, the way he chewed his lip with a focused intensity – those were the subtle giveaways that made your heart skip a beat.

"Leave him alone, Sainz!" You swatted playfully at Carlos' chest, the contact sending a blush blooming across your cheeks.

"Oh, look who's defending the love bird." He teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You blushed once again. "Shut up." You whispered.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Lando fighting a smile as you continued towards McLaren hospitality. A quick goodbye to Carlos later, you disappeared inside, ready for your daily tasks. Lando watched you go, his gaze lingering long after you were out of sight.

When he finally turned back to his friend, Carlos was waiting, arms crossed, a knowing smirk plastered across his face. "What?"

"Ugh, the both of you." Carlos rolled his eyes. "All this mooning and staring, it's getting pathetic. Just take her out, will you?"

Lando sighed. "I've been trying for years. It's always 'inappropriate.'"

"Well, try harder!" Carlos pressed. "Last thing you need is someone else catching her eye."

Lando's playful demeanor vanished. "What do you mean?" He pressed, a sudden seriousness tightening his features. Carlos simply offered him a pat on the shoulder before walking away, leaving Lando with a gnawing sense of unease. "Hey, what do you mean?"

The sprint had been a disaster. It all ended so quickly that it didn't give him enough time to think, no chance to catch Max and the others at the front. To make matters worse, the Stewards imposed a heavy fine of €50,000 for crossing the track while the rave was still ongoing.

Later, back at the hotel, he was torn between feeling exhausted and frustrated. A cold shower did little to wash away the bitter taste of defeat. He pulled on fresh clothes and collapsed onto the bed. Closing his eyes, he focused on the tension leaving his body, hoping for a moment of peace.

A loud ringing sound shattered the silence and startled him out of his daze. He groaned as he searched for his phone, buried somewhere in the crumpled sheets.

Y/n: Hey, Oscar and I are planning to watch a movie and grab some food. Wanna join us? We're in my bedroom.

Lando smile, looking at your text.

Lando: You know I like you. You shouldn't tell me when you have other guys in your bedroom. It breaks my heart.

Although he couldn't see you, he was certain you were rolling your eyes after reading his message.

Y/n: Shut up and get your ass here.

A laugh escaped Lando's lips as he pushed himself out of bed. He stalked over to the mirror, running a hand through his damp curls. With a flick of the switch, the room dropped into darkness, and Lando walked out of his room.

Your room was on a different floor, but soon a familiar knock came at your door. Your heart kicked into a familiar rapid-fire beat as you swung the door open.

"Hi!"

"Hey, beautiful." He cupped your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Osc!" He jumped in your bed and in one smooth motion, he snagged a chip from the bowl you'd set on the nightstand.

"Hey. What do you feel like watching?" He quickly looked through your Netflix library, skipping over the typical romantic comedy options.

"Anything but that mushy stuff." Lando declared, earning a playful jab from you.

"Take your shoes off the bed, Lando!"

He chuckled, kicking off his sneakers. He leaned back against the headboard, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long. You were a black Simpsons shirt and matching sporty shorts, your bare feet resting comfortably on the cool sheets. A small anchor could be seen on your ankle, sparking his imagination about what other hidden treasures lay beneath your clothes.

The spell was broken by a knock on the door. With a quick smile, you ran toward the door, returning moments later with a stack of takeout boxes.

You settled next to Lando on the bed, while Oscar sprawled out at the foot like a contented cat. With the Avengers movie playing softly in the background, you devoured your food, a comfortable silence settling around the three of you.

Two hours passed by quickly as the credits rolled. Oscar groaned and got off the bed. You mimicked his stretch, feeling the pleasant ache of a relaxed evening.

"Looks like someone's having a sleepover!" Oscar teased, pointing a playful finger at Lando. The driver was sprawled across your pillow, a peaceful look on his face.

A soft gasp escaped your lips. "Oh, Lando!" you whispered, torn between amusement and a flicker of panic. He looked undeniably adorable, a mess of soft curls framing his face. You glanced at Oscar, who was already pulling on his sneakers. "We have to wake him up, right?"

Oscar chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "We? Seems pretty comfy to me, Y/N. Let the man enjoy his rest." He started towards the door, but you reached out.

"Wait, where are you going? He can't stay here." Panic bubbled in your chest. The thought of him sleeping in your bed sent shivers down your spine.

"So wake him up!"

Your cheeks flushed crimson. "I… I don't want to wake him." The words came out a soft mumble, barely audible.

Oscar leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Then don't. Trust me, asleep is the only state he'll stay put. Besides, wouldn't you rather wake up to a grateful cuddle buddy in the morning?"He winked, leaving you speechless, alone with the British driver.

Oh my god, you screamed to yourself.

You tiptoed around the room, unsure of your next move. Finally, drawn by a strange magnetism, you found yourself kneeling by the bed.

Lando's serene face was illuminated by the soft bedside lamp. His chest rose and fell gently in sleep, a single black curl escaping the gentle mess of his hair.

An irresistible urge to touch him washed over you. Without thinking about it, your fingers reached out, tentatively brushing against the perfect curl. As if sensing the intrusion, Lando stirred, and his brow furrowed slightly. You quickly retreated to the bathroom, heart pounding as you slammed the door carefully behind you.

Leaning against the door, you let out a shaky breath. You hurriedly changed into pyjamas, suddenly aware of how thin they felt compared to your day clothes. But it was hot, and you hadn't brought anything else.

Peeking through the crack in the door, you peeked out, praying for the best. Relief flooded you when you saw Lando, thankfully still asleep, but now facing the other side of the bed.

You were wondering if that little couch in the corner was worth sleeping on. It looked quite small and uninviting. Sleep on that uncomfortable excuse of furniture, or share the bed with Lando? The answer, realistically, was obvious.

You climbed in, scooting over as far as possible to create a respectable amount of distance from the body next to you. Sleep, thankfully, came quickly. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the day, or perhaps the unexpected warmth and sense of security that came with having Lando beside you, but you drifted off faster than usual.

Sunlight, snuck into the room, painting stripes across Lando's face. He blinked, momentarily disoriented. Hadn't he closed those curtains last night? He sat up, surprise jolting through him as he realized he wasn't in his own bed.

Even more shocking was the sight beside him. You, cuddle against him, your thin pyjamas offering little to make him look away. One of your legs peeked out from under the discarded sheet, and Lando felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the morning sun.

What in the world? How had he ended up, tangled in your sheets? A quick glance around revealed his phone abandoned on the nightstand. It was still early, but Jon would be expecting him in his room soon. He needed to get out, get cleaned up and get ready for the day. But leaving felt like ripping himself away from something precious.

He stole a glance at you. Your face, relaxed and peaceful, was turned towards him. A stray strand of hair tickled your cheek. Hesitantly, he reached out, tucking it behind your ear. The touch, light as a feather, was enough to stir you awake.

Lando didn't flinch and when you fluttered your eyes open, his face was inches away. A wave of yearning swept through you, a desire for more mornings waking up beside him.

"Did I die and go to heaven last night?" His voice, husky with sleep, sent shivers down your spine.

"You fell asleep." You admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "And I didn't have the heart to wake you up."

"Right." He breathed the word out, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. His hand reached out, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that both surprised and delighted you. A blush crept up your neck as he murmured, "Lucky me." Then, a sigh escaped his lips. "I have to go. Jon will be at my room any minute."

You nodded and smiled, despite the disappointment tugging at your heart. You watched as he hesitately rose, groaning at leaving your bed. His hair was a mess of adorable curls, and his rumpled clothes added a touch of vulnerability that made him look even more adorable.

He grabbed his phone and sneakers and then paused, a playful smirk on his face. "So, about that lucky kiss for good luck?" He teased, a hint of hope lacing his voice. "We already slept together!"

"Go!" You muttered.

"Fine, fine." He chuckled. "See you later, love."

He turned towards the door, and an impulsive urge surged through you. Before you could overthink it, you were out of bed and racing towards him. He reached for the doorknob, but you were faster, grabbing his arm and spinning him around.

For a moment, confusion clouded his features, but it quickly melted into surprise as you planted a kiss on his cheek. It was a chaste kiss, lingering just a beat too long to be considered entirely platonic. When you pulled away, his eyes held a mixture of shock and something deeper.

"There's your lucky kiss." You whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "Now go."

Lando stood speechless for a moment, the kiss still tingling on his skin. Then, a slow smile spread across his face "Today is a day full of opportunities." He declared.

With one last lingering look, he opened the door and disappeared into the hallway. You leaned against the wall, your heart pounding against your ribs.

You had never felt more nervous before in a race. At the start, it seemed like Oscar could give Verstappen a run for his money, but then the safety car came out and it felt like you were barely moving until the end of the race, with Lando being P1. It wasn't until the checkered flag waved that you finally exhaled, a shaky breath that escaped with a nervous laugh.

The McLaren hospitality buzzed with excitement. Lando had finally done it. His first F1 victory, a triumph long overdue. You joined the celebrations, a wide smile plastered across your face, not just for the team, but for Lando himself. It was a moment he deserved.

"Great race, Oscar!" You exclaimed as the Australian driver entered the hospitality area and hug you. "You had Red Bull sweating for a while there!"

He chuckled, pulling you into a brief hug. "Thanks, Y/N. I gave it my all, but the real winner tonight is Lando." He winked. "I'm sure your champion will be here any minute, looking for his girl."

You slapped his arm playfully, a blush creeping up your neck. "Don't say that in here!"

"Everybody knows." He whispered back.

As if on cue, Lando appeared. His eyes scanned the room, a triumphant grin splitting his face when they landed on you. You saw as he and Oscar hugged each other and the rest of the team.

He weaved his way through the crowd, a trail of congratulations and backslaps following him, but it was you he was drawn to. Everyone else faded into the background as he reached you, his victory grin melting into a tender smile reserved only for you.

You welcomed him into a hug, a sweet and loving embrace. He buried his face in your neck, the scent of champagne and his signature cologne an intoxicating mix.

"We did it!" He murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

"You did it!" You corrected, pulling back to cup his face. "I'm so proud of you."

Everyone was engaged in their own celebrations as he took your hand. He led you away from the loud crowd, a silent understanding passing between you. As you slipped inside his driver's room, he locked the door behind him, a thrill of nervousness ran through you.

He closed the distance between you, his eyes roaming your face before settling on your lips. With a tender touch, he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing a seductive path across your lips.

"Please!" He pleaded, his voice low and urgent. "Just this once…" You knew exactly what he craved.

"Lando--" You began.

"Please!" He repeated, his voice laced with a desperation that mirrored your own.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. A part of you, the part that had spent months pushing him away, hesitated. But the other part yearned to give in. You nodded.

He cupped your face in his hands and pressed you against the wall. The next moment, his lips were on yours, the taste of champagne a sweet surprise against yours. The kiss was hungry and desperate. You clung to his fireproof shirt. The world melted away, replaced by the intoxicating sensation of his lips moving against yours. All the reasons you'd held back faded away.

But just as the kiss deepened, a knock on the door jolted you both back to reality. You broke away, gasping for breath.

Lando groaned. "Yeah?" The voice from the other side told him they were expecting him. Lando rolled his eyes. "Just give me a minute."

When you heard the footsteps fade away, you reached for the doorknob, but Lando's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist.

"Stop it, Lando." You whispered.

"Don't!" He pleaded. "You can't tell me you didn't like it. I could feel it, Y/N. Don't deny it."

"I'm not denying it." You admitted your voice barely a whisper. "But you know why this can't happen."

Lando's jaw clenched. "It's NOT inappropriate! Look," he said, his voice softer now, "I waited this long for my first win. I can wait for you, just as long."

He cupped your jaw and before you could react, he leaned in and kissed the corner of your lips. He unlocked the door in one swift motion and stepped out, leaving you breathless.

You'd politely declined Lando's after-party invitation at the strip club near the hotel. You weren't the nightclub type, and deep down, Lando knew that. You assured him that you hadn't rejected it because of the kiss, but the way the call ended, left a pit in your stomach.

"He's mad! I know it." You mumbled to Oscar, who sat beside you at the hotel bar. The rest of the team was split between a game of darts in the back and loud conversations over drinks by the pool. "He didn't say 'bye, love' or 'see you later, beautiful', we just said bye."

Oscar facepalmed as he looked at his drunk best friend rambling about their mutual friend who was likely doing the same thing at the party.

"You're his friend, Y/N, not his girlfriend." He teased, sending a blush creeping up your cheeks. You stammered a reply, but the words got tangled up in your throat. "He's probably getting lucky tonight." He continued. "Deserves it after that win."

The implication hit you like a punch to the gut. "Lucky? You think he'll...?"

A mischievous glint danced in Oscar's eyes. "Oh, absolutely."

You downed the last of your drink, feeling a hollowness in your chest. "Good for him." You mumbled, the words lacking conviction.

Oscar groaned, frustration etching lines on his forehead. "Jesus, Y/N! The only girl he wants to get lucky with is you. Stop playing these mind games and making yourselves miserable!"

You rested your head on your hand, a wave of emotions crashing over you. "Oscar," You confessed, looking him straight in the eye. "I really like him. Like, never liked anyone this way before."

A slow smile spread across his face. "Then do something about it."

Lando was having the best time of his life, celebrating his first win with his friends. He felt his chest vibrate with every beat of the bass, as he laughed with his friends. Despite the fun he was having, he was also experiencing a dull ache. Your absence stood out.

He'd downed a few too many drinks to drown the disappointment steaming inside. When you declined the club invitation, his frustration boiled over into a harsh goodbye, which he quickly regretted.

"Did you see who just walked in?" Max shouted into his ear over the loud music.

"What?" Max pointed towards the entrance, causing a frown to appear on Lando's forehead.

Your arrival sent a jolt through him, he felt a surge of adrenaline and his earlier frustration vanished as a smile stretched across his face.

"Go get your girl, champ!" Max patted his shoulder with a wink.

Lando needed no further encouragement. He navigated his way through the crowd, his eyes fixed on you.

You scanned the room with a hint of apprehension. Even in your tipsy state, a voice of reason whispered in your head, questioning this impulsive move.

Just as you turned to leave, a warm hand closed around your wrist. You didn't need to see his face to know who it was. His familiar touch sent a familiar spark across your skin.

He wore a playful smirk, but his eyes held a hint of concern. "I thought you weren't coming."

You tried to appear casual, but your voice betrayed you. "I wasn't."

"How much did you have to drink?" He asked you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. How did he know what you had been doing? You stuttered in response, unsure of what to say. "Did Oscar let you come here drunk?"

"I'm not drunk! And how do you know I've been drinking?"

"Then why the sudden change of heart?" His gaze softened, searching your face. "And Oscar's been keeping me updated."

"Why doe--"

"Why are you here, Y/n?" He asked you.

You felt your face getting hot as you looked around the club, the among of bodies suddenly overwhelming. "I, uh..." You cleared your throat, the words catching in your tight throat. "I need a drink."

As you made your way towards the bar, Lando followed closely behind. You approached the counter and asked the bartender for a drink. He nodded and began to mix your order. Lando stood by your side, looking a you.

"How did you get here? Does Oscar know?" The concern in his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded and then drank the entire drink that was placed in front of you all at once. "Yes. He called me an Uber and told the guy to drop me here." Lando looked surprised as he noticed the empty glass in your hand. You hadn't intended to drink it so quickly, but your nerves got the best of you.

"Whoa, slow down there."

"I thought you wanted to celebrate!" You said to him as the bartender handed you another drink. You took it and walked away. Lando's face was adorned with a smile, but worry still lingered in his mind. Despite that, there was a sense of happiness as the night was finally complete.

You leaned heavily against Lando, his arm wrapped securely around your waist, as the elevator ride made you feel dizzy. He, somehow, seemed frustratingly sober.

"Hey," He chuckled, his voice warm despite the coolness of the metal walls. You managed a watery smile, lifting a hand to touch his cheek. "What are you thinking about?"

"Dogs." You mumbled. "Do you think they dream about bones?"

Lando's laugh filled the small space. "Maybe. I don't know beautiful."

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" You blurted out, smiling innocently.

He stopped in front of your room, his gaze holding yours. The concern that had flickered in his eyes earlier was gone, replaced by something more intense. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." A giggle erupted from your lips. Lando reacted instinctively, clapping a hand over your mouth. It was late, and the last thing they needed was a noise complaint. "Shh." He murmured. "Gotta be quiet, love."

You nodded. "Okay!"

"Where's your key?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation. You shrugged, the simple action requiring more effort than you cared to admit.

"Lando?" You whined. "Sleepy..."

He cursed under his breath, scanning the empty hallway. Walking up to the front desk for a key wasn't exactly his ideal scenario.

"Alright, you're coming with me." He said gently, scooping you up in his arms. A sleepy protest tumbled from your lips, but you clung to him instinctively as he carried you back towards the elevator.

"Can we go to the beach?" You mumbled as the doors closed.

"The beach will be there in the morning." He replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It's almost five am."

A giggle escaped you. "Naked swim?"

He cleared his throat, the sound a little rough. You'd been a delightful firecracker all night, and he was struggling to keep his cool. "The shower's a much better option right now."

The elevator doors slid open, and with a sigh, he carried you out, your head chilling against his shoulder. He fumbled with his keycard, finally pushing the door open with his foot.

In the room, he gently laid you on the bed, the soft sheets making you relax and close your eyes.

For a moment, he stood there, watching you. The urge to pull you close, to feel your warmth against him, was killing him. But your vulnerability state held him back.

"Hey, love?" He said softly, his voice laced with concern. "Can I take off your shoes?"

You mumbled something incomprehensible but managed a weak nod. He carefully removed your heels, his fingers brushing against your ankle for a fleeting moment that sent a jolt through him.

"Maybe a shower would be good." He suggested, his voice gruff. "You'll sleep better."

"With you?" She asked him, excited.

Lando, still feeling the effects of alcohol, ran his fingers through his hair, feeling hot.

"You can't imagine how much I want to say yes... But no, not tonight." You pouted. Grabbing your hands, he pulled you up. "Ask me again tomorrow!"

He gently led you to the bathroom and helped you sit down. He waited for the water to warm up, and when it was ready, he turned around. Suddenly, Lando's breath caught in his throat.

Without him realising, you had taken off your clothes. You stood bathed in the soft glow, vulnerability etched on your face, wearing only your black lace lingerie.

He tore his gaze from you. His heart beat a frantic rhythm against his ribs, mimicking the feel of the alcohol in his veins. Only if you weren't drunk...

"Are you okay?" Your voice was so gentle and innocent, nothing like it normally sounded. You reached out and touched his back. He flinched the innocent gesture a powerful trigger for his already steaming desire.

"Y/N, please!" He pleaded. "If you keep touching me..." The sentence trailed off, the implication hanging heavy in the air. The more he looked at you, the more his willpower crumbled. Shame washed over him. "Love, just take a shower. You need to sober up." He gestured to a pile of clothes on the counter. "There are some of mine there. I'll be outside when you're done."

You stayed in the shower for a while, the hot water feeling good against your skin. You weren't completely sober, the world still held a gentle sway, but the edge of drunkenness had dimmed.

Stepping out, you wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel Lando had left out.

As you dried your hair, you caught your reflection in the mirror. Even in the state of mind you were, you knew you were going to regret it in the morning. You put on the clothes he had left you and shoved the feeling down.

Lando, scrolling through his phone on the bed, looked up when the bathroom door creaked open. Relief washed over him as he saw you wrapped in his clothes.

"Feeling better?" He asked. You offered a small nod, leaning weakly against the doorframe. The playful energy that had fueled you earlier had dimmed, replaced by exhaustion. "Good!" He said, a hesitant smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Sleepy?" You simply nodded again. He cleared his throat, the silence growing heavy in the room. "So... Are you comfortable sharing the bed, or...?"

"It's fine." You mumbled. A playful glint flickered in your eyes. "And I promise I won't, uh, bite."

Lando chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Don't get me wrong, love," He said, his voice dropping to a raspy whisper. "You could do whatever you wanted most nights, believe me. But not tonight."

He gestured to the empty spot beside him on the bed, inviting you to join him, an unspoken tension lingering in the air.

You waddled across the room, the oversized t-shirt hanging loosely on your body. Climbing onto the bed, you scooted closer to him, a nervous feeling running through you, despite the lingering effects of the alcohol still dancing through your veins.

"Can we at least...?" You trailed off, your voice barely a whisper. "You know... a goodnight kiss?

"You're a menace when you're drunk, you know that?" He teased, a playful sparkle in his eyes.

You batted your eyelashes in a way you knew usually worked. He sighed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Alright, alright!" He complied. "But on the cheek. Lips are off-limits tonight."

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. As he leaned in, the faint scent of his cologne filled your senses. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, sending shivers down your spine.

"Goodnight, Y/N!" He murmured, his voice sending a flutter to your heart. "Hope you'll remember this tomorrow morning."

"Goodnight, race winner." You replied, a hint of sleepiness in your voice.

Sunlight pierced through the blinds, finding your eyelids and forcing them open with a groan. Your head felt like a maraca that had been shaken all night, and your mouth tasted like a desert. Sitting up cautiously, you winced at the throbbing in the back of your head.

Memories and fragments started to come back. The kiss, the club, the dancing, Lando's strong arm around you... and then... a complete blank. Panic started to rise in your chest. What had you done? Had you said something stupid or done something worse?

The bedroom door creaked open and Lando entered, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. He looked like a vision with his rumpled hair and a smile breaking out on his face as soon as he saw you awake.

"Good morning, sunshine!" He said, his voice sounding awful to your pounding head.

"Don't yell!" You mumbled. "Water?"

He chuckled, handing you a bottle of water. He sat on the edge of the bed, his concern evident in his eyes. You took a grateful sip, the cool liquid easing the dryness in your throat.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" He asked you, sitting on the edge of the bed, his concern evident in his eyes.

You took a deep breath. "I remember... bits and pieces." You admitted, shame creeping up your cheeks. "Lando, I am sorry if I did something or said something wrong... I must have been awful. I was very, very drunk."

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Honestly? I wish you felt that comfortable around me all the time." Lando reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch sent a jolt through you. "You know how much I like you... Y/n, I'm in love with you."

Your heart hammered against your ribs at his confession. A real and pure confession.

"Lando--" You breathed, your voice thick with emotion.

He took your hand in his, his eyes filled with a gentle understanding. "I know..." He said, his voice a soothing balm. "Just know that I'll wait for you. However long it takes." He squeezed your hand.

Tears welled up in your eyes. The years of running, of pushing him away, suddenly seemed pointless. All you wanted was to be here, with him.

Leaning forward, you met his gaze. Then, you cupped his face gently and placed a soft, sweet kiss on his lips. It was a kiss filled with apology and relief.

"I'm tired of running." You whispered against his lips. "I'm in love with you too. I've always have."

Lando couldn't help but grin as you hugged him. First, the win, then the kiss and now the girl of his dreams confessing her feelings. Yeah, you could definitely say it was a very good day for Lando No Wins.

"I love you, Y/n." You smiled, a genuine, heart-melting smile.

"I love you too, Lando." You knew, at that moment, hugging the person you had been in love with for years, that you were finally home.

#lando norris #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 fic #lando norris imagine

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 8 months ago

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

From the request HERE

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: You two can't keep your hands off one another as you come home one night, but a slight problem has you in a pickle: your birth control has just run out and you are all out of condoms. Not to worry, Simon assures you that he will pull out. But as you ride him you begin to question if you really want him to. Will he stick to his promise or will he give in to your need?

Word Count: 4.9 k

Warnings:

Your back bounces into the front door as Simon pins you against it as he is physically unable to wait to get inside before he is on you. The walk from the car to the apartment has already been long enough, you can’t expect him to stay away any longer, especially not after the needy way his hands were on you just moments before. He almost made it till you just had to go and pull him into you by tugging on his belt loops; you should have known that’s all it takes to make his resolve break so that he is unable to hold back his need to devour every inch of you.

It had all started on your way home as it always does when he is out with you and an urge hits that he can’t indulge yet: his hand that was gripped tightly around the top of your inner thigh as he drove began moving up slowly until it reached the inseam of your jeans where he pressed up against it as if he was trying to get a feel of your warmth through the thick fabric. The longer his hand massaged you through your clothes, the worse the ache got and the more he had trouble keeping his gaze from trailing back onto you at every chance until he had to force himself to look back at the road, biting his lower lip to focus on something other than his need to put his mouth on any part of you he could get.

He did try his hardest to get you both inside before his composure broke, but even as the car came to a stop he knew it was too late. There is only so much he can control, he is a trained professional after all, but this isn’t military business; when it comes to those moments when his desire for you has reached its peak, there is no holding back.

You are the perfect kind of intoxication and once he has you in his veins there is nothing left but to indulge until he is satisfied.

His mouth dominates your own as his hands cling around your cheeks to keep you completely at his mercy so that he can take you as he likes. It’s not even been five minutes, but he is already panting heavily from the ferocity in the desperate and insatiable way he captures your lips in open-mouthed kisses and the sound of his yearning makes your heart skip.

“Si,” you moan the shortened version of his name against his lips in between gasped breaths.

Christ, the way it rolls off your tongue is an aphrodisiac to him and before he can think he is already rock hard and throbbing against your hip. You would think he hadn’t had you in months with the urgency in which he claims your mouth with his until your skin burns from the aggression; the immense intensity in that moment has your knees buckling.

Your head is spinning with each passing minute as he grunts into your mouth, the feeling of your kiss too good to keep quiet about…but he needs more. Suddenly, his tender lips leave yours stinging as Simon nuzzles across your cheek, eyes closed and moving off of feel alone, and soon his hot breath is at the side of your head as his lips ghost near your jaw before they land. They leave burning kisses in their wake while they travel down towards your neck.

“Fuck,” he exclaims with that husky tone into your skin, “I need ta feel ya, baby.”

Moving between the contours of your fused bodies his desperate hands locate the button on your jeans and with a bit of struggle, he undoes them. Both of those meaty paws are shoved inside the front before he even gets the zipper down. There’s a hiss on his tongue as his hands fill with all your soft, warm skin just inside your clothes.

“Gotta get ya inside ‘fore I fuck ya right here ‘gainst the door,” he says in a deep, breathy whisper.

The ache in his voice makes your skin prickle with anticipation of what’s to come as the vibration from his deep register makes your clit throb. His neediness is overwhelming, worming its way inside your head until you can’t think of anything else outside of the sensation of his touch along your curves, the yearning in his depraved kisses, and the way his words set your soul on fire with passion.

“I’m sure the neighbors would love that,” you say, quickly followed by a high-pitched moan as he drags the sharp edge of his teeth over that rapidly pounding vein at the side of your neck.

You hold his face tighter against you, forcing him to suck at the spot, his heated, sticky breath moistening your skin as the pressure from his lips leave you in a daze. His calloused hands continue harshly pawing at your body as he situates his knee between your legs up against the door to steady himself and without thinking you take that as an invitation to grind against his thigh to relieve some of the ache that is making you lose your mind.

He can’t stop himself from following your lead and soon you are both greedily humping each other, desperately trying to get as much friction going as possible, not actually caring if anyone catches you two going at it. You can feel his mouth upturn into a smile against your neck. “They’d be so lucky to see me fuck a gorgeous thing like ya, sweetheart,” he growls into the skin.

What’s breathing again? You’ve lost the ability completely after that line.

Fuck, Simon doesn’t want to take his hands off you, but you have got to get inside and quick or else his little joke might become a reality with the way you two keep grinding on one another. But if he wants to get these clothes off you, and fucking hell does he want to, he’s going to have to open the door.

Under duress, he removes one of his hands from within your pants and searches his pockets for his keys. The jingle of metal clinking together is heard as he pulls them out and flips through the set until his fingers find the one he needs. It takes him several tries to stab the key into the lock, relying strictly on sound and feeling alone to be sure he has it and finally that familiar click hits his ears over the sound of your combined heavy breathing.

The front door ricochets off the wall behind it as Simon flings it open with a bit too much force before he staggers his way inside with you plastered to his body, his lips feverishly back to capturing yours in their embrace as you enter. He can't get in fast enough; he desperately needs to get you fucking naked and now.

Grabbing the door with his hand, he slams it closed before making you both tumble to the floor and pinning your body between him and the living room carpet. “Can’t make it,” he groans in agony as if the bedroom is miles away.

It’s not like your naked body hasn’t felt the fibers of the carpet dig into it before.

Now that you are safely inside, his lust is unable to be controlled. Just the feeling of you under him has him panting into your open mouth like an animal in heat, barely able to kiss you as it feels so fucking good. He runs those coarse hands over your delicate curves through the opening he’s created in your pants and up under the bottom hem of your shirt over your stomach.

His groans turn into a bassy whimper as you begin to explore his body as well, fingers running up under his shirt to caress the muscles along his torso up towards his chest, your arms taking his t-shirt with you as you go until it reaches his neck and he lets you pull it off over his head. The skin is pink with the heat from his arousal making his blood run hot like fire through his limbs. Moving up onto his knees he leans on his calves, his head falling back in ecstasy as you glide your touch through the hair that covers his chest and abdomen; just your touch is stimulating enough to have him ready to burst.

He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes as your hand slips lower over those bulging muscles as they ripple, the bliss from your silky touch almost too much to handle. You catch his stare and lock it in your pining gaze as the tips of your fingers slip over his naval and down onto the clasp of his pants and a deep, guttural moan is dragged out of his throat as you skillfully undo it and shove your way inside.

Your hand brushes against the bulbous tip of his cock and his whole body shudders. “F-fuck,” he gasps under his breath, his eyes fluttering shut and mouth hanging open as your hand wraps around it and begins to stroke up and down within the confines of his pants. It doesn’t take long and he is bucking, rolling his hips to fuck your hand as your fist tightens more around him. The constriction only makes the movement of his hips more feverish as he succumbs to the feeling of the friction.

He lets you go on until he can feel the first twinges of pressure building inside and that’s when he knows he’s had enough; there is so much more he wants to do to you and if he comes now it’ll all be over too soon. Opening those brown eyes, now with their blown out pupils, he runs his tongue over his dry lips and looks down at you as he removes your hand from around his cock and tugs it out of his pants.

“Come ‘ere to me, pretty girl,” he groans as he drags your hips forward onto his knees so you have to wrap your legs on either side of his wide, bulky torso. “Need these fuckers off.”

Those girthy fingers hook themselves into the waistband of your jeans, making sure to latch into the top of your panties as well, and with a hard tug he is wrenching them both down off your hips, continuing down the line of your legs. Your body is aching so bad for his touch that everywhere he makes contact against you feels like ecstasy and all you want is more. You pull your legs back to tuck them against your chest so he can rip your pants all the way off and toss them away.

Your ears pick up the sound of Simon’s sharp inhale as he gets sight of that sweet thing between your thighs. One look is all it takes and the inside of his mouth begins to salivate as he leans over your body to place his raw lips to your abdomen just below your naval as your body squirms under his touch from each warm caress of his mouth. The short, bristly hair that covers his jaw pricks against that overly sensitive skin until your back arches off the ground and you start to whine as it is almost too much for you to take.

“Need ta make ya come,” Simon whispers his feral plea into your stomach. “Need ta hear it, need ta feel it…”

His thought trails off as his lips wander down lower to stop at the sparse hair covering the top of your nude pussy. He pauses for only a few seconds to take it all in; God, he would never get tired of seeing it. But as much as he admires the look of it, there is something he needs even more and he can feel his taste buds tingling across his tongue to get at it.

“Need ta taste it…” he says, frantic and desperate.

Your brain is so strung out that you haven’t fully comprehended his words as you open your eyes and see Simon repositioning himself, sliding out from under you and moving onto his stomach in between the divide in your legs. With his fingertips gripping into each of your thighs, he pushes them apart and keeps them spread as he immediately dives face first into the gap he has made with a hunger that makes him wildly delirious.

There’s something you need to remember to tell him, something important pertaining to this exact situation, but the minute his mouth is on those tender lower lips your ability to think is gone. His mouth pin heavy kisses to your petals before his wide tongue flattens against the curve of your pussy and pushes up tight until the pressure causes you to fidgeting your hips against his face.

Back and forth Simon slips his tongue over you until he pushes through the threshold of your sex and drags it up the length, coming to rest up against that bundle of nerves towards the top. He can feel your heartbeat through the throbbing in your clit and his eyes roll back in his head as he loses himself inside the haze of his passion; if he could live between your legs, he would definitely call it home.

You are already a little wet and he can taste your arousal in his mouth as he takes the tip of his tongue to roll it delicately over your clit and you squeeze your thighs together around his ears in response to the intense pleasure that one simple movement produces. Keep doing shit like that and he isn’t going to be able to contain himself.

Simon tries to keep his tongue steady and slow, but the longer he stays buried in your pussy, lapping at you like he’s been starved of it, the harder it is to contain himself. He’s obsessed. Every desperate sound you make, every writhe of your body, makes him greedy for more; he is eager to do whatever it takes to turn you into a complete mess and that means only one thing- overstimulation.

Releasing one of your thighs, he moves his palm to rest under his chin and brings two of his bulky fingers to align them with your entrance. He keeps his tongue on your clit and thrusts the pad against it as he sinks his middle fingers up into you. Those dark eyes dart up over the line of your body to watch your back arch up high off the floor while you cry out in incoherent moans as you are suddenly stretched out from the size of his digits.

His fingers fill up your pussy as deep, come hither strokes work on your G spot over and over in rhythm until he has your body dripping. The mixture of your juices and his spit from your clit dribbles down into his hand and collects around his chin. This is exactly what he is looking for: the more your wetness gathers on his face, the more feral he becomes until his sanity is gone and only a mindless creature hell bent on ruining you remains.

No more calm caresses now; he needs this raw and dirty. He wants his face to be slathered in your cum.

Tilting his head to the side, he takes a deep breath. “Rock your hips inta me,” he grunts his hasty demand with his mouth still against you before plunging back in.

Planting your feet firmly onto the floor, you pick up your hips slightly and slowly begin to rut against his face as his fingers curl up inside of you and his tongue continues to tease your clit. The sensation is unlike anything else, riding his face and fingers at the same time. How is this man a master at using every single part of his body?

Simon hums his praises into you for how good you are at following orders and you can feel the vibration from his lips; that adds something even more magnificent to the equation and soon there is a warmth gathering in the pit of your stomach that you recognize- you are close.

Your core is clenching around his fingers something fierce, your swollen walls bearing down on him with each thrust of your hips as he laps up the mess you are making to keep it from being wasted on the carpet. As your leg muscles begin to shake near his ears, he knows that you are about to come and his already depleted breathing hitches as he waits to feel it.

“Sh-shit,” you whimper as your nails dig into the carpet. “Gonna come, Si.”

A few more moans and then you fall silent as all that pressure is right at the peak, so close you can almost taste it, and with a few more thrusts of his tongue and buck of your hips and your body contracts as your orgasm tears through you.

Simon sneaks one gasping breath just as your thighs clamp down rigidly around his ears, blocking him in against you so that he can’t get free until you are finished. The entirety of your high you ride out with him licking, sucking, and fingering until you sink into the floor, breathing through the pleasure.

“That’s my girl,” he growls, breathing hard as his face emerges from you with a contented smile on his glistening lips.

Pushing himself up, he moves back onto his knees in front of you before taking the back of his hand and wiping it across his lips to remove the coating leaking down his chin. “Ready for more?” he smiles.

All at once the thought comes flooding back into your mind through the clarity that getting off has given you, that thing you are supposed to tell him, as he slides the waistband of his jeans down over the curve of his ass and pulls his cock out. Goddamn he is hard, the tip swollen and throbbing with the beat of his heart as he moves in.

Quickly, you stagger up onto your elbows to look at him. “Wait,” you choke out as he slides back up close against you.

“Need a break?” he asks, slightly out of breath still.

You don’t want to stop, God, you want him in you so bad it hurts, but there’s a problem. “Ran outta birth control,” you stammer out. “Do we have any condoms?”

Even in your delirious state you already know the answer; you haven’t bought anything for a while as you had never had any trouble with your pills until now. Simon looks back at you and shakes his head, confirming your suspicions and you fall back down onto your back defeated.

“Don’t wanna stop,” you whine pathetically as you feel him move, thinking that you’ll have to stop, but Simon is quick to crush your fears.

"Listen,” he says as he leans over top of you, cupping your cheek to pull you into a quick kiss as he holds himself up with the other, “I'll be careful. Swear I'll fuckin' pull out."

His cock presses against you as it hangs freely out of his pants. Without thinking he slowly grinds the veiny shaft up against your pussy, his hardness stroking over your clit until your juices are dripping all over it. All that slick, all that warmth, and Simon is losing his goddamn mind, but he won’t put it in, not until you say.

You are already so drunk off the euphoria of your orgasm that there is no way you’re gonna say no to that, not when the need to keep this going for as long as possible is all you want. The more his cock slips between your petals the more you agree with his idea until the only thing left in your hazy mind is the need for him to be inside you- now.

“Promise?” you ask.

“I swear,” he reassures. “Don’t wanna stop either. Wanna be inside ya too.”

“Okay,” you agree enthusiastically and he gives you one more heated kiss in confirmation.

Slipping through you a few more times just to be sure he is good and coated, he pulls back and sets the tip right at your opening. “Jus’ breathe,” he groans, digging his fingers into your hips as he sinks the tip of his cock inside and with one fluid thrust he plunges in fully until his cock completely disappears inside.

The fucking stretch of him is sublime, the usual slight discomfort from it near nonexistent as your body is more than ready to take him in. “Yes, yes,” you whimper out as your mind is consumed with the feeling.

There is no restraint left in Simon to keep him in check; the high he feels from being inside you is too much and he wastes no time in setting a punishing pace. Bulky arms move underneath you to tilt your hips upwards as his hips snap into you with ruthless force until he’s pounding into you so deep his vision blurs and he must resort to sounds to convey his thoughts.

Each thrust is emphasized with a primal groan from him as both your bodies start to glisten with perspiration from the exertion of the brunt of his desire for you that makes him pound into your dripping hole with fervor. Minutes pass in this hazy ecstasy until he decides that he needs a change of position. As good as you look beneath him, you are a true fantasy when you are on top and he craves that right now.

“Need ya ta ride me, baby,” he murmurs. “Can ya do that?”

You nod quickly; as long as he keeps making your body feel this way, you’ll do whatever he wants.

Making sure you are secure in his arms, he pulls out of you only long enough so that he can roll you both over until you are now the one on top. Getting you situated he immediately thrusts back inside and you instantly plant your hands firmly onto his chest, using it as leverage. Pushing down against his chest you begin to bob up and down on your knees as best as you can over the bulk of his body to stick to the relentless pace that he had already set.

Simon runs his hands up and down your bare thighs as he takes in the view of you perched on top of him: your pretty eyes glazed over, your hair a beautifully disheveled mess hanging down around your face, your tits bouncing in tandem with you beneath your shirt. You are utter perfection as you ride. Those needy hands begin to roam up higher and higher over your stomach, pushing your shirt up as he goes until he can reach your breasts so that he can get at them to play with the nipples to make you whine.

Fucking hell, every inch of you is like a dream. And it’s all his.

It isn’t long before your movements start to get sloppy as the euphoria of it all draws you closer to your second release. This is too much for anyone to handle: you being entirely ravaged by him until you are so desperately lost in the pleasure of it all that you are in a complete state of full body bliss. That familiar pressure at the base of your spine is already building again and as long as you keep this rhythm you will be coming in no time.

Even as you are lost in it all, ready to finish again, an irrational need creeps into your mind that you have never had before. The thrill of the risk is mind-numbly good, but this new though amplifies all that by ten. What if he didn’t pull out?

It’s crazy, you know, but something about it just sounds so right. The delicious thought consumes your mind, making your limbs tingle with excitement. Screw the consequences, you can figure it all out later. Why the idea popped in your head in the first place, you don’t know, but now that it is here, you can’t get rid of it. You need Simon to come in you.

“Don’t… pull…out,” you stammer out shakily.

Simon’s head pops up. Did he hear that right? No, he must be so far out of his mind that he is not able to comprehend your words right now. “What?” he asks.

Your legs lock around his sides as you continue to bounce in that steady rhythm with no sign of stopping. “Want you…to come… inside me. Please, Si. Need it.”

Oh, God. It’s like a switch that gets flicked on in his brain as you plead with him to fill you up and all at once that absolutely feral part of his brain that has been kept dormant all this time is awakened with a fury.

Fuck, it's all over now.

There is no possible chance in hell that he isn’t going to give in to that. He's so high off the feeling of you riding him into oblivion that any consequences that may come do not even register. So what if you have an accident? He’s confident that he’d be just fine with that. Shit, he loves you to the moon and back, so it’s not much of a risk in the end if a product of your love just happens to come from this. Right now the risk is worth the reward.

“Fill… me up,” you continue to beg. “Please…almost there.”

His mind is already made up. "Christ,” he groans desperately, “can't say no to that, pretty girl. Want me ta fill ya, that's what your gonna fuckin' get."

His large hands lock tight around your hips to hold them down as he strikes his hips up into your pussy, taking control to slam up into you from below harder and harder. The clenching of his abdominal muscles from each thrust has the sweat dripping over the contours of his chest. You take every last delectable inch he gives you as the room fills with the wet sounds of your bodies slapping against each other. Your mind is all static now, so lost within the bliss of your union that you can’t stand it and he isn’t far behind.

“Don’t stop…Dont’ stop,” you whine, your body shaking as he slams into you over and over again.

“Never,” he grunts, trying to keep together through the overwhelming pressure gathering deep within him that threatens to throw him over the edge at any moment; you have to come first, that’s his rule.

That warmth is almost at its peak again, the pressure rising harshly at the base of your spine; just a little more and you’ll be there. You’re barely hanging on by a thread, excited to experience being stuffed full by the only man you ever want to claim you. Fuck, you want him to claim you so bad it hurts.

A few more seconds of his roughness as you are jostled atop him and that is it, like a hot flash of white light you squeal out in unsteady whimpers as your second orgasm tears straight through you with such force you nearly fall off him, but Simon keep you upright.

Finally he can let himself go. He’s nearly there, just a bit more and he is going to fill you full. A few more ragged, desperate thrust and he is spilling inside of you. A loud groan rips through his chest as he releases all that warm liquid up into you, milking his cock until he has nothing more left as he keeps your hips pinned to his; you had wanted this and he is going to be sure you get everything you want. His hips continue slowly moving against yours as he works you both through your highs for the next couple of minutes until it subsides and he comes to a stop, completely spent.

“I’ve got ya, I’ve got ya,” he murmurs softly as you fall forward onto him and he cradles you against his burning chest while you continue to whimper faintly as your body shakes with the force of your lingering orgasm.

Never have you come so hard before and fuck, neither has he.

Simon clings to you, gently rubbing down your back until your breathing calms and your heart stops thudding so violently; only then does he carefully pull out of you and help you move to his side. With nothing to plug you up, you can feel a warm gush that runs down to your thigh, a sticky reminder of what just happened. Simon catches a glimpse of it and it makes his heart thud to see all his milky white cum dripping out of you; the ultimate claim to what is his.

Propping himself up onto his elbow, he lays a heavy arm over top of you and wraps it around your back to pull you tighter into him. “We might ‘ave a problem,” he chuckles as he kisses your heated cheek.

“What’s that?” you ask exhaustedly.

“Think I just found my favorite thing to do with ya,” he whispers. “And from the way ya just came, I might have ta do it again.”

1K notes · View notes

iamnotoriginalphil · 12 days ago

Text

For the Article (Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You're sent to cover the opening show of the Coven's next tour. Agatha Harkness, the lead singer, is magnetic. Luckily for you, she seems to think the same as you.

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: Swearing, oral (R giving), strap (R receiving), masturbating, mirror sex

Tags: @sasheemo @buttercandy16 @chlondykebar @midnight-lestrange @babybeeelle @dontsblameme

The crowd was buzzing around you. The music was loud, the thump reverberating through your ribcage, making your heart beat faster. The band onstage was captivating, there was no other word for it. The women were everything they promised to be, the kind that could easily be believed to be witches. They’d certainly cast a spell over the crowd.

Front woman Agatha Harkness was a clear fan favourite. Flouncing around the stage, flirting with any pretty thing in the front row, captivating blue eyes drawing you in, it was easy to see why her fan base had once been described as a cult. You found yourself watching her more often than the others. It might not be the most professional, but she drew the eye, and that was worth putting in the article.

You’d been sent by your boss to review the show, the first on their American tour. The others in the office had bemoaned their luck, busy on other stories when you got to go rock out. It didn’t help that you were the only member of the team who wasn’t a fan of the Coven going in.

Now? Well… you supposed you could see the appeal.

It shouldn’t have worked, the eclectic collection of people on the stage. Alice, the pianist, the child of a 70s star. Jen, the bassist, spending more time on social media than in rehearsal. Rio, the drummer, a wild card if ever there was one. Billy, the guitarist, a replacement for his own mother from the early days, younger than you thought was reasonable to have so much talent. Lilia, who seemed to fill in any small instrument that was needed in the song. And of course, Agatha, the showman.

It shouldn’t have worked, but standing there in the crowd, you’d be the first to admit that it did.

The air was charged, electricity moving through the crowd. You drank it in, soaked in the energy thrumming between the people. It was the kind of show that got the heart racing and the fingertips tingling. Something special was happening. Of that you were sure.

Later, once the last note had been played and the lights had flooded the auditorium, showing the crowd in all their glory at the end of the show, you watched them stream towards the exit. The excited chatter was familiar, almost comforting in its ordinariness.

You, taking a different turn, following the band’s manager backstage, felt a moment of anticipation. It was almost anxiety. You hadn’t gotten nervous about interviewing anyone since your early reporting days. Now, it was just routine.

Something about this band had you feeling butterflies at the thought of meeting them.

The greenroom backstage was not what you were expecting. Rio was sprawled over the small two seater couch, twirling her drumsticks above her head. Billy was hunched over a notebook, sitting on the ground criss cross apple sauce. Jen was perched in a chair, taking a selfie as she chatted to Lilia. Alice was slumped against one wall, arm resting on the top of a bent knee, listening in. Agatha, the one your eyes alighted on first, was in front of a mirror, leaning forward as her fingertip brushed over her lower lip.

“Hi,” you said, hoping to break through the tension in your stomach, “great show.”

Everyone liked compliments. Starting out on the right foot might let you in on some of the secrets behind the curtain. Everyone knew the band, everyone had heard the stories. You wanted to know the truth.

“Thanks,” Billy said, glancing up for only a moment before he went back to his notebook.

“You going to give us a good review?” Rio asked.

“I’m thinking about it,” you replied, “but I’d love to get some behind the scenes flavour.”

“You want the tea,” Billy drawled.

“Be nice,” Agatha said, before her eyes met yours in the mirror, “we’re here to make friends.”

“You don’t make friends,” Jen said.

That piqued your interest.

“What does she make?” you asked.

“Don’t listen to her. I’m very friendly,” Agatha purred.

You met her gaze again, trying not to let it show on your face how intrigued that comment made you. You were there on a job. You had to remain professional. There was no chance you’d be letting yourself be taken in by her, not when keeping your wits about you was necessary. And you thought it would be very necessary around her. She seemed like the kind of person who charmed her way into getting what she wanted.

The way her eyes swept over you made you think that in that moment she wanted you.

“What do you want from us?” Alice asked, sounding more tired than the rest of them. Just looking at her she seemed exhausted. Her hair stuck to her skin from the sweat still glistening on her forehead.

“Not much. I’m just going to hang out for half an hour, see what you’re like.” Honesty seemed like the best route with her, “then I’ll leave you be and I’ll go write up my article.”

“No interviews?” she asked.

“Nope,” you said.

“And this is all off the record?” she asked.

“I’m just here to see what you’re like as a group,” you said, “nothing else. I didn’t even bring any of my recording equipment.”

“Except your phone,” Rio drawled.

“I’ll hand it over for the half hour I’m here,” you said, pulling it out of your pocket.

A warm hand closed around yours, lingering before it pulled the phone from your grip. Glancing up, you found Agatha had managed to sneak up on you, close enough that you could see each individual eyelash. Your breath stuttered, not used to having someone so magnetic focusing all their power on you.

“I’ll keep this safe for you,” she murmured.

“I’m sure you will.”

A twinkle in her eye let you know you were walking a dangerous line. You were getting too close to flirting. And not in order to get her to open up and reveal more than she might want to. No, this was purely because you wanted to.

You could understand why so many people were clamouring to meet her.

You stepped around her, the space necessary for you to keep your head in her presence. Leaving the phone in her hand, you perched on edge of one of the tables, staring out at the group. Agatha’s hips swayed as she sauntered over, lowering into the seat by your hip with a flick of her hair.

“What did you think of the show?” Lilia asked.

“You’re all very talented. I’ve never been to one of your shows before,” you said, turning your attention to their small grouping.

“So we popped your cherry tonight?” Agatha asked, her chin coming to rest in the palm of her hand, gazing up at you from under eyelashes.

“That’s one way to phrase it,” you said, offering her a tight smile.

“Play nice,” Rio warned.

“I’m always nice,” she said, her hand landing on your thigh, “aren’t I being nice?”

You watcher her tongue run along her lower lip, painted red, white teeth flashing at you. Your own lips parted.

“Very nice,” you whispered.

Her hand squeezed your thigh and a flush of heat went through you. She was still gazing up at you with smouldering eyes, hand burning through the denim of your jeans. You had to drag your eyes away from her, physically stopping yourself from looking at her.

“You enjoyed yourself then?” Lilia asked, ignoring whatever it was Agatha was doing to you.

“I’ve had a very enjoyable evening,” you replied, trying to slip back into professionalism.

“No need for it to end so soon,” Agatha said, snatching your attention back.

She was the definition of temptation. Leaning into your body, her hand still on your thigh, climbing higher, her shirt open down to her navel giving you quite the eyeful from your position. You wanted to lick a long line between those breasts. You bet she tasted like heaven.

“There’s nothing stopping us from continuing it after this little meeting,” she said, voice lowering into a seductive purr.

“That would hardly be professional,” you said.

“You’ll be off the clock,” she said, leaning closer, “nothing but two people getting to know each other better.”

“You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?” you asked as you lowered your head towards her.

The loud cackle startled you. Jerking away, you found Rio laughing, head tipped back, almost wild in her delight. The glower that passed over Agatha’s face was fascinating before she smoothed it over, offering you a pleasant smile. Billy’s eye roll felt natural, like something he’d done plenty of times before.

You doubted you were the first one Agatha had tried to seduce after a show.

“Why haven’t you ever been to one of our shows before?” Jen asked, glancing up from her phone.

You weren’t sure how to answer it without admitting you weren’t exactly a fan of theirs. Not that you hated their music, just that you’d never been particularly invested in it.

“Probably because journalists aren’t paid that much,” Billy said.

“They’re paid enough,” Alice said.

“Leave her be. She’s under no obligation to spend her money on us,” Agatha said, hand slipping up your thigh another inch.

“Maybe I’ll have to come see another. I had no idea you put on such a fun show,” you said.

“No need to stroke our egos. Just tell us what you really think,” Rio said.

You considered her a moment that stretched out as you held eye contact with her. You weren’t sure you liked being so seen, especially by a stranger.

“Your music is fine,” you said, “it’s just not my favourite.”

“And what is your favourite?” Agatha asked, voice turning sultry, as if asking something far more interesting than your taste in music.

“A closely guarded secret from those I’m writing articles about,” you replied.

Her head tipped back as she laughed, full and throaty, the kind that made you wonder if this was the truth or another performance to make you like her. You had to admit, it was working on you.

“Well, now I definitely have to get you off the clock, hon,” she said.

Standing, her other hand landed on the other thigh, pushing you up to sit properly on the table. She stepped between your knees, fingers dragging up your legs, turning your brain fuzzy. Your chin tilted up, an automatic response to your position. Her gaze darkened, focusing on your mouth for longer than was appropriate.

“This is definitely not professional,” you said, voice whisper quiet.

“Fuck professional,” she said, “you already know what you’re going to write. This is just between you and me.”

“And the rest of us you’re forcing to watch this pathetic attempt at seduction,” Billy drawled.

Your cheeks heated, becoming aware of the audience to your embarrassment. Eyes were turned towards the two of you, watching. You shook your head, pushing Agatha back. Sliding onto your feet you looked around.

“Well, you’re right about one thing,” you said, “I already know what I’m going to write. Thank you all for your time.”

Offering a tight smile, you turned on your heels and fled out of the room. Cursing your own stupidity, you beat a retreat towards the exit, wanting to get home and not linger on the way that woman had made you feel with so little effort. There had to be something wrong with you to lose your head so quickly. You were trained better than that.

It wasn’t until someone fell into step beside you that you became aware of the sound of heels on the concrete floor following you. You glanced over, unsurprised when the smirking face of Agatha was looking back. You sighed, slowing your pace until you’d stopped just feet from the exit.

“You left in rather a hurry there, hon,” she said.

“I don’t want to keep you from whatever after party you had planned,” you replied.

“It’ll be no celebration without you there,” she said.

She took a step towards you and you took an answering one back. Her lips pulled up into a small smile, doing it again. When your back hit the wall, you realised you’d made a mistake. You’d let her corner you, alone, when the only thing you wanted was space to screw your head back on right.

“You left your phone,” she whispered, hand landing beside your head against the wall.

“Oh. Right. Thanks,” you said.

A hand slid into the back pocket of your jeans. Your breath hitched and a look of pride passed over her face. Her body slotted along yours, the hand on your ass pulling you closer, hips aligning in a way that made your thoughts scatter. Her nose ran along your jawline before her lips pressed to the vulnerable place behind your jaw. The noise you made as embarrassing, want and shame mingling together.

“Come celebrate with me,” she murmured into your skin.

There wasn’t any question about denying her request.

Her hotel room was almost clinical, all white sheets and bright lights. Clothes spilled out of multiple suitcases, flung over the couch and the bed. Agatha pushed them aside, uncaring when they fell to the floor as she reached for you.

You fell onto the bed in the cage of her arms, her lips finding yours in a searing kiss. The entire trip back to the hotel had been a masterclass in foreplay. Her hands had wandered as she whispered dirty things in your ear. Her lips would barely brush your skin and you’d shiver in the back of the car, leaning into her as she made you whimper for her touch.

Her tongue swept into your mouth, making you groan, legs curling around her hips. Her hands weren’t careful as they dragged down your body, pushing up underneath your shirt, nails scraping over your skin. You arched up into her touch, offering yourself to her.

Dragging the shirt from your body, she sat back for a moment, eyes tracing over your exposed chest. Fingers tangling in her hair, you pulled her back down, kissing her long and deep. Her hands were swift to divest you of the bra you were wearing, leaving you bare to her touch.

Her lips trailed down your body, your gasp only making her smile into your skin. Her tongue traced around one nipple, fingertips mirroring her movements on the other. You arched into her mouth, fingers tightening in her hair, pressing her to you, refusing to let her go. You were gasping her name. Blue eyes found yours, burning with lust, watching the way you responded to her.

You dragged her back up, kissing her, needing her in a very fundamental way. She laughed into your mouth, hands stroking over your skin. Rolling her, you straddled her waist, staring down at her. So much skin on display and yet not nearly enough. Ducking down, you did as you’d been thinking about since seeing her, running your tongue from navel to neck. Her groan was filthy, wriggling beneath you.

You were careful as you peeled the clothes from her body, lavishing attention on every new inch of skin you revealed. She squirmed, her voice raspy as she told you to get on with it. Grinning up from between her thighs, you waited for the sharp tug on your hair.

Her hips canted up into your mouth as you devoured her. Even in pleasure, she was musical, the noises she was making a symphony to your ears. Your hands held her legs open, refusing to let them close around your head, wanting her wider to get deeper, to hear the deep moans you could draw from her. Her hand was forcing you harder against her, rocking against your face.

You let her use you however she wanted. Her pleasure only made the throbbing between your own legs worse. Staring up her body, you watched as her lips parted, her hand working at her own breast.

She wasn’t quiet as she came, the noise loud, ringing in your ears as you lapped at her. You could spend hours there, doing this over and over again. This was a better show than the one she’d put on earlier that night, far more compelling to you. She hissed as you kept going, wanting to see it again.

With a grip stronger than you were expecting, she pulled you away, throwing you back down onto the mattress. She crawled up your body, lips trailing kisses up your bare skin, making you whimper. It was inconceivable how she made you feel with such simple actions.

She tugged your jeans off, a flurry of movement that had you pressing a hand to your eyes, squeezing shut when you felt her fingers on your wet heat. A featherlight touch circling over your clit had you whimpering, wanting more, ready to beg for it.

“Stay right there,” she whispered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

You watched as she stood from the bed, gloriously naked, uncaring and confident in her own body. Your own fingers slipped down your body, brushing over your clit, watching as she rummaged through her luggage. She glanced over her shoulder, watching for a moment, eyes darkening as she focused on your hand.

“You’re too fucking gorgeous, you know that right?,” she said before going back to whatever she was doing.

When your finger slipped in, your eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh on your lips. Some relief was better than nothing. You were beyond ready for an orgasm of your own.

Fingers curled around your ankles, startling you. Your hand fell away from your hot cunt, staring at the sight of Agatha at the foot of the bed. More importantly, you were staring at the heavy purple strap bobbing between her legs.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re ruined for anyone else,” she told you, her hold tightening on your ankle.

“Better get on with it then,” you said, feigning a cockiness you couldn’t feel in your breathless state.

Her chuckle was warm, throaty, making you reach for her. She fell over you, kissing you deeply until all thoughts fled. You didn’t even notice as her hands manhandled you until her lips disconnected from yours. Positioned on your hands and knees, her lips trailed down your spine, making you whine. Her hands were palming at your ass as she took her time, uncaring of how you were trying to wiggle closer.

“You’re dripping, hon,” she groaned before her teeth sunk into one cheek.

You pressed back into her, your own moan loud to your ears. Her tongue soothed over the mark before she rose. One hand on your hips steadied her as the other curled around your body, running through your folds. Whimpering, you looked over your shoulder.

“Are you ready for me?” she asked just as her finger pressed down on your clit.

“Yes,” you whimpered, “please.”

“Say it again,” she commanded.

“Please.”

The tip of her strap nudged at your entrance.

“Again.”

“Please.”

She pushed in, both hands grasping your hips, rough and demanding as she slid in to the hilt. Her name was nothing but a moan, your own hips pressing back into her. She was slow as she pulled out before thrusting forward again.

“Look at how well you take me,” she murmured, “you make such a pretty sight.”

One of her hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head up from where it had fallen forward. Staring back at you was your own image, a mirror placed in the perfect position to show you as she thrust into you. Your mouth fell open, watching your two bodies move together.

Her hands were back on your hips, throwing back her wild hair as she increased the pace of her thrusts. You couldn’t stop watching, not realising how much of a turn it would be to watch yourself get fucked by the rock star. Her grip was tight, almost painful, as she began to pound into you.

You were a babbling mess, begging for more, enamoured by the sight of the two of you. Her burning eyes found yours in the mirror, locking on, refusing to let you look away. Your internal walls were beginning to flutter, your desperation obvious. She grinned, slowing down her pace, making you whine like the brat you knew you could be.

“I should bring you on tour with me,” she said, tortuous slow thrusts keeping you on the edge but not enough to push you over, “you’re such a good stress relief toy.”

“Agatha,” you groaned.

“I could do this every night,” she said.

“Please.” You tried to press back into her faster than she wanted. The tight grip she had on your hips kept you in place.

“Would you like to come with us?” she asked.

You nodded your head, knowing it was ridiculous, knowing there was no chance you’d be joining her on the tour. But the thought of having more of this, to be given this every night for months on end, was one that you wanted desperately. You wanted to be owned by her, to be her bitch, to submit to her until you forgot your own name.

Her pace increased agains until she was slamming into you, the slap of skin loud in the room as you moaned like the whore she made you. Right before your orgasm hit, your elbows gave you, sending you face first into the mattress, giving her an angle that let her hit deeper within you. Her name was a strangled gasp and then you were clamping down on her strap, lost in the feeling of fire in your veins and pleasure rocketing through your body. Her slow stroks eased you through it before she finally pulled completely from you.

Rolling onto your back, you stared up at the ceiling, gasping for breath. You passed a hand over your face, overwhelmed by how good it had been. A quick fuck with a one night stand wasn’t meant to rock your world quite the way Agatha had. You listened as she did something by the edge of the mattress.

The bed dipped as she drew closer. She swooped down, kissing you long and deep and dirty, making you curl your arms around her waist. Repositioning you to curl against her side as she lent against the headboard, she was slow to draw away, hand stroking along your ribs.

“We’re leaving for the next stop on the tour tomorrow morning,” she said.

You knew this song. Sitting up, you pulled out of her hold.

“Right, yeah, of course,” you said, “well, thank you for the celebration.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked, arms wrapping around your waist, front pressed to your back.

“Home?” you said, unsure what was going on. This was not how your usual one night stands went.

“I suppose you will have to pack but it’s late. Do that tomorrow,” she said, lips pressing to your bare shoulders, turning you back into liquid heat.

“Pack?” you asked while your brain could still produce thoughts that weren’t just about the feel of her against you.

“You’ll need things while you’re on tour with us,” she replied, a whisper into your skin.

“On tour? I can’t drop everything and follow you around the country,” you said, turning in her arms to look at her properly.

Her long fingers pushed your hair out of your face but her lips were pursed in displeasure. Your fingertips ran along her collarbone, feeling the way the bone shifted under her skin as she shifted away from you.

“You said you wanted to come with me,” she said.

“I thought… I thought it was just a heat of the moment request,” you said, peering into her eyes.

“I don’t ask every beautiful woman I fuck to join me on the road,” she said.

“You seriously want me to go with you?”

Her hands on your waist pulled you closer until you were straddling her lap. Your fingers pushed into her hair, tangling in it, tilting her face up towards you.

“Come with me, hon,” she said, “join me on the road.”

You felt crazy for actually considering it.

“I’ll have to talk to my boss,” you said.

“Of course,” she said.

“I can’t lose my job,” you said, “and fair warning but I don’t exactly have any savings.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of you,” she said.

You considered her for a moment before you nodded your head. She brightened, your smile answering hers. You lent down, kissing her again, feeling insane for agreeing but not sure you could stop yourself even if you’d wanted to. There was something about Agatha Harkness that made you want to do things you knew you shouldn’t.

But you sensed it would be worth it.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness #agatha all along #aaa week

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bat-mom-writer · 1 month ago

Text

Wife On Repeat

Reader(Wife) X Bruce Wayne(Husband)

Summery: Bruce goes on an interview, and during his interview he wouldn't stop talking about you.

Rating: Fluff, slight spicy(if you squint your eyes and turn your head sideways.)

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

"Welcome back, folks," the host, Janelle, flashed a gleaming smile as the commercial break concluded. "And tonight, we have a truly remarkable individual joining us. An inspiration to millions, a legend in his own right. Ladies and gentlemen, let's give a warm welcome to Bruce Wayne!"

The studio audience erupted into applause as Bruce emerged from behind the velvet curtains. He was impeccably dressed, as always, his jaw firmly set, and his eyes focused on the cameras. He took his seat opposite Janelle.

"Mr. Wayne, we're absolutely thrilled to have you here," Janelle said, her voice a mix of excitement and professionalism.

"Oh, Janelle, it's an honor to be here," Bruce responded with a courteous nod, his deep voice resonating through the studio. "I might even say I've been here before, but then I realize that you're show is always on my 12th living room Tv."

The audience chuckled at Bruce's light-hearted remark, easing the tension that always seemed to follow him. Janelle leaned in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Now, as a man with such an illustrious career, we're all dying to know, what drives you?"

"Well, Janelle," Bruce replied with a twinkle in his eye, "you might say it's my chauffeur."

The audience chuckled again, and Janelle couldn't help but laugh along. "Seriously though," she said, "what motivates you to get out of bed in the morning?"

Bruce's smile remained, but there was a sudden shift in his demeanor, a softening of his eyes. "My wife, she usually has to shove me out of bed in the morning," he joked, his tone light but tinged with a hint of something deeper. "But in all seriousness, it's my wife and sons that keep me going. They're my rock, my reason."

The camera zoomed in on his face, capturing the sincerity of his words. Janelle nodded, her own expression a blend of admiration and curiosity. "You speak of your wife, Mr. Wayne, but you never mention her name. Is there a particular reason for that?"

Bruce's smile never wavered, but his eyes grew distant for a brief moment, as if looking into a memory. "Let's just say she's a very private person, and I like to respect her wishes. Plus, I think the mystery adds a bit of intrigue to the whole billionaire philanthropist package, don't you think?" He winked at Janelle, and the audience laughed in response.

"Well, I'm sure swim suit modals and Russian ballerina, are sadden to see you off the market," Janelle said with a playful smile, eliciting another round of laughter from the audience.

"Ah, the perils of fame," Bruce chuckled. "But in all seriousness, she's the love of my life, I wouldn't have her any other way."

The interview progressed, with Janelle asking him about his latest ventures in tech and philanthropy. Yet, she found herself drawn back to the topic of his family life. "You have quite the brood of young men, Mr. Wayne," she said, glancing at her notes. "Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian. They're all so accomplished in their own right. Tell us a bit about them."

"Well, my wife would tell you that each of our sons mostly take after me, but I'd say with a sprinkle of their mother's charm and grace," Bruce said with a proud smile. "Dick is the eldest. He's taken after me in a lot of ways, but he's also forged his own path. He's got a strong sense of justice, and he's not afraid to get his hands dirty to make the world a better place. Sometimes he'll literally get dirty, and my wife has to remind him to wash up before dinner."

The audience chuckled, and Bruce's gaze grew more intense as he continued. "Jason, on the other hand, is the wild card. He's got this fiery passion that can either set the world alight or burn bridges. But usually my wife is the one putting out the fires."

"Then there's Tim," Bruce went on, a hint of warmth in his voice. "The brains of the bunch. He's got a mind like a computer—no, better than a computer. And he uses it for good, just like his mother always taught him. He's got a gentle soul, but don't let that fool you. He's as tenacious as they come when he sets his sights on something. I think he picked that up from my wife."

"And finally," Janelle prompted, "what can you tell us about Damian?"

Bruce's smile grew wistful. "Ah, Damian. He's the youngest, but he's got the heart of a lion. And the stubbornness to match. He's a bit of a handful, I won't lie. But he's also the most loving and fiercely loyal little guy I know. He's got a bit of his mother's grace in him, which I'm sure she's thrilled about, and he's learning to channel his intensity into positive outlets. I can't wait to see what he'll achieve when he's all grown up. Though I think my wife would argue that he's already achieved quite a bit."

Janelle nodded, scribbling down notes. "It seems you're very proud of your sons," she said.

"I am," Bruce said, his eyes glowing with pride. "But it's my wife who truly deserves the credit. She's the glue that holds us all together. Without her, we'd all be lost."

Janelle leaned back in her chair, her gaze thoughtful. "I couldn't help but notice how often you brought up your wife," she said. "It's clear she plays a significant role in your life and the lives of your sons."

"She does," Bruce agreed, his voice filled with a warmth that seemed to radiate through the studio. "She's the unsung hero behind the Wayne legacy. Without her, none of this would be possible."

"How did you two meet?" Janelle asked, her curiosity piqued.

Bruce took a deep breath, his eyes glazing over as if lost in a cherished memory. "Well, Janelle, that's a story for another night," he said, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "But I can tell you that she walked into my life when I least expected it, and she changed everything."

The audience leaned in, hanging onto every word. Janelle, sensing the gravity of the moment, decided not to push further. "Let's move on to your philanthropic efforts," she said, switching topics. "Your newest venture, the Wayne Foundation, is making waves with its innovative approach to solving global issues. Can you tell us more about that?"

"My wife's idea," Bruce said, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "She saw a need for a more personal approach to giving back. We wanted to create a foundation that didn't just throw money at problems, but actually rolled up its sleeves and got involved in the community. We've started with education and environmental initiatives, but our goal is to expand into healthcare and social justice as well. She's the heart of it all, the one who keeps me grounded and reminds me that it's not about the size of the donation, but the impact it makes."

As Janelle nodded, she couldn't help but feel the genuine love and admiration Bruce had for his wife. It was clear she wasn't just a partner in life, but also in his mission to make a difference.

The interview continued, with Bruce explaining the intricate details of the Wayne Foundation's projects. His passion for the cause was palpable, and it was evident that his wife's influence had been instrumental in shaping the foundation's core values. The audience listened intently, inspired by the depth of his commitment and the quiet strength of the woman who remained behind the scenes.

"Well, that's all the time we have for tonight," Janelle announced as the interview drew to a close. "Thank you, Bruce Wayne, for giving us a glimpse into your fascinating life and the incredible work you do. And of course, a special thank you to the woman who stands by your side, even if she's not here in the flesh."

"Thank you, Janelle," Bruce said with a nod. "I'm sure she's watching," he added, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "And she's probably cringing at every sappy thing I've said."

The audience erupted in laughter as Janelle wrapped up the segment. "Well, folks, there you have it," she said as the lights dimmed. "The enigmatic Bruce Wayne, opening up about his life's work and the woman who fuels his passion. Thank you for watching and we're going to take a quick break. When we come back, we'll be discussing the latest in celebrity gossip."

The cameras switched off and Bruce took a moment to collect himself. The mention of his wife had stirred up a whirlwind of emotions. He had always been careful about what he shared with the public, but tonight, he had allowed himself to be more open than ever before. The warmth of the studio lights began to feel stifling, and he longed for the cool embrace of the night.

Once arriving home, Bruce found his mansion ablaze with lights, a stark contrast to the quiet solitude he had left behind in the TV studio.

"Welcome home, Master Bruce," Alfred, his ever-faithful butler, greeted him at the door. "Your presence was quite enchanting on television tonight. Your mysterious charm has not waned."

Bruce chuckled, peeling off his tie. "Thanks, Alfred," he said, his gaze drifting to the grand staircase. "I think it's time for me to check in with the real star of the show."

Alfred nodded knowingly, his eyes twinkling. "Indeed, she's been waiting for your return."

Bruce took the stairs two at a time, his heart racing with anticipation. He found you in your private study, surrounded by books and papers, your eyes glued to the computer screen. You looked up as he entered, a soft smile playing on your lips. "Welcome back," your said, your voice warm as you get up to greet him. You're arms wrapped around him in an embrace that felt more like a homecoming than a simple greeting.

He held you tightly, burying his face in your hair, inhaling your sweet scent. "How'd it go?" you whispered.

"You watched it, didn't you?" he said, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes.

"I had to make sure you didn't spill any of our secrets," you teased, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

Bruce chuckled, his arms tightening around you. "You know me, I'm a pro at keeping secrets," he murmured. "But it went smoothly, all things considered. Janelle was quite the interviewer."

You stepped away, a playful smirk on your face. "Or you're just eager to spill everything about your love life on national television," you said, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe I did get carried away," Bruce admitted with a chuckle, his gaze following you as you moved to the minibar to pour him a whiskey. He took the glass gratefully, his eyes never leaving yours. "But when it comes to you, I find it hard not to." Taking a sip of the amber liquid, he let out a contented sigh.

You took a seat on the couch, your legs crossed elegantly, and your arms resting on the back of the cushion. "Well, with everything you told Janelle tonight, I don't think I'll be revealing myself any time soon," you said, your voice a perfect blend of humor and affection.

Bruce sat down next to you, his eyes never leaving yours as he took another sip of whiskey. "I have to let them know how lucky I am without them getting all… obsessive," he said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes playfully. "I couldn't help but notice how you avoided the question of how we met."

Bruce took a long sip of his whiskey, his eyes twinkling. "Some secrets are better left untold," he said, his voice low and mysterious. "But if I did, a few… other secrets would come to light."

You leaned in, intrigued. "Oh? And what might those secrets be?"

Bruce set his whiskey glass down with a clink, his eyes alight with mischief. "Well, thinking back, it would be interesting telling them the real story of how we met," he began, his tone playful yet filled with a sense of nostalgia. "Imagine their faces when I tell them it was in a dark alley, not at some fancy gala or charity event."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound as enchanting as it was unexpected. "Only you could turn a mugging into a romantic meet-cute," you said, shaking your head.

"Well, when you put it that way," Bruce said with a grin, his arm sliding around your shoulders with yours coming down. "But really, it was your fiery spirit and quick thinking that night that made me fall for you."

You playfully slapped his chest. "Fiery spirit? I was just trying not to get shot."

"And you did it with such poise," Bruce said, his eyes warm with admiration. "But yes, that's when I knew you were special. And when I saw you handle those thugs with nothing but a pair of heels and a handbag…"

You blushed, the memory still vivid in your mind. "Well, I'd like to think I've improved since then."

Bruce leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And you have, in more ways than you know," he said, his gaze lingering on your face. "But I'll always remember that night, when I realized I'd met my match."

You raised an eyebrow at his dramatic tone. "The Joker?" You joked, trying to lighten the mood. "I don't recall seeing the Joker there."

Bruce leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "No, not the Joker. But someone equally as formidable," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Someone who could handle the chaos of Gotham and still look good in a pantsuit."

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth of his gaze had your heart fluttering. "Dick?" you said, playing along.

"No," Bruce said, his voice a low murmur. "Someone much more… elusive." He leaned in closer, his lips so close to yours. "Someone who can melt the ice in my heart."

"Superman?" You whisper your tone teasing.

"You little teasing woman," he murmured, his gaze lingering on your lips before returning to meet your eyes. "Always keeping me guessing."

"It's part of my charm," you said, your voice a gentle tease.

"The charm that never gets old," Bruce murmured, his eyes darkening with desire.

The air between them grew thick with anticipation, the unspoken tension stretching taut as a bowstring. You leaned closer, your heart racing. "Are you just going to keep a girl waiting?" you whispered.

With a soft chuckle, Bruce closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as fiery as it was gentle. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you, and for a moment, the weight of their shared secrets and the chaos of Gotham City felt a world away.

As the kiss deepened, you felt the tension of the day melt away. His touch was familiar yet always had the power to ignite something new within you. You pulled him closer, your hand resting gently on the back of his neck, the warmth of his skin sending shivers down your spine.

Bruce set the whiskey glass down with care, the sound of the liquid swirling the last reminder of their light-hearted banter before the intensity of their connection took over. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, his hand splayed over the curve of your hip. The warmth of his palm seemed to seep into your very bones, anchoring you to the moment, to him.

The door to the study swung open with a creak, the hinges protesting against the weight of the heavy wood. You both startled, breaking the kiss as your eyes darted to the intrusion. In the doorway stood Dick, his eyes wide and a look of shock etched on his face. "Bruce, I—uh, I didn't." he pause, "I should have figured…this, after tonight's interview."

Bruce cleared his throat, straightening his tie with a slight blush. "Dick, what can I do for you?"

"I wanted to say," Dick says, his cheeks flushing as he stepped into the room, "that I thought you did a really good job on the interview tonight. You talked a lot about us, and…" He trailed off, looking down at his feet. "And I'll just leave now, oh but, uh… you might want to start locking doors."

You both laugh awkwardly, the tension dissipating as quickly as it had formed. "Thank you sweetheart, I think we'll keep that in mind," Bruce says, patting your knee reassuringly.

Dick nods, a knowing smile on his face, closes the door and retreats down the hallway. "Nobody go in the office, Bruce is making out with mom," he calls out, his voice echoing through the mansion.

You and Bruce listen as he goes, "It's like he's announcing dinner," you murmur, amusement coloring your voice.

"Well, my dinner at least, come here" he smirks, tackling you to the couch with a playful growl, making you giggle and squirm in his grip. The plush fabric cushions your fall, but it's Bruce's arms that truly make you feel safe and secure. His eyes dance with mischief as he pins you down, the weight of his body pressing into yours, a comforting reminder of his presence.

#batman #bat family #dc universe #bat boys #batfamily #dc fandom #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne's wife #batman x reader #batman fanfiction #dick grayson #interview #loving wife #crush on wife

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fear-is-truth · 2 months ago

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⟢ warnings : mildly suggestive ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ⟢ synopsis: you attend a halloween party with your boyfriend, as patrick bateman and jean

in the privacy of the guest bedroom, loud rock music from the party faded to a faint bassline, michael jackson’s “thriller” just a distant pulse beneath the sound of clothes rustling and heavy breathing. dressed as patrick bateman, your boyfriend looked simply incredible—the once-pristine white shirt now wrinkled, the tie hanging loosely, his hair wild from your fingers. the smears of red along his jaw and cheek made his gaze sharper, giving it a darker edge. you’d matched him as jean, modest yet professional attire complete with a blonde wig you’d adjusted so many times tonight. it sat crooked now, stray synthetic strands brushing your face, and the top buttons of your blouse were undone. his hands had slid over your waist, fingers leaving your skirt hitched high without a thought to fixing it.

nicholas tilted his head, thumb tracing the plushy seam your lips, where your once-perfect lipstick had smudged and faded, a good amount now staining his own mouth. not breaking eye contact, his touch lingered there for a beat, before he finally leaned in, closing the already-small space between you. his lips barely ghosted against yours, teasing. then, with a smooth, deliberate pressure, he deepened the kiss, hot tongue slipping past your parted lips, moving with a slow, sensual rhythm as he explored every inch. his hand slid up, fingers grazing your jaw, holding you steady as he kissed you deeper. coaxing, drawing out a low hum from you. body pressed against his, so close you could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath his shirt. a pleasant jolt went through you when you felt him harden against your thigh — as if every nerve ending in your body had come alive, pulsating with desire.

just as abruptly as the kiss, he pulled back, and you let out a soft whine of protest.

“nic–”

“i have to return some videotapes,” nicholas murmured, letting the infamous line drop with a cocky grin. you rolled your eyes, groaning at his timing, but your stomach was already flipping as his hand slid into his back pocket.

“don’t worry,” he whispered, leaning closer until his lips brushed your cheek. you caught the tear of the durex wrapper as he added, “i won’t leave my girl hanging.” his words melted into a grin just as he leaned in, mouth finding yours again, sealing you in a messy kiss.

#nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x y/n #nicholas chavez imagine #nicholas chavez fluff #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez x you

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janeyseymour · 1 month ago

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A Piece Of Paper

Summary: You and Melissa have been dating for a while. Marriage isn't necessarily the plan. Who needs a silly piece of paper to solidify the relationship anyway?

WC: ~4.2k

After dating Melissa Schemmenti, second grade teacher at Willard R. Abbott Elementary School, for about a year, the two of you decide to finally jump the gun and move in together. It took a bit of convincing on your end, but eventually, she welcomed the company and companionship that you brought with you. Living together didn’t mean you were married after all.

You’ve been living together for two years now, dating for three. It’s a nice situation to be in. Neither of you are particularly ready to get married, each of you for your respective reasons. The topic had come up when you moved in, and you came to an agreement that you were more than satisfied just being partners… life partners. The weekday routine of waking up together, occasionally showering together before getting on with your days, breakfast, heading to work, coming home to your person, and then relaxing before heading to bed and starting the cycle all over again is warm enough. But your weekends are always slow, steady, full of comfort and contentedness to do everything or nothing at all. This relationship that you have with Melissa is all you’ll ever need in life- married or not.

It’s a day where you have off and your girlfriend conveniently has a professional development day that, while you are still more than content with your lifestyle how it is, Melissa’s thoughts and views begin to change.

Because Ava doesn’t have anything against you (you would even venture to say the principal of your girlfriend’s school likes you), you’re able to enter the school during lunch hours and share a meal with your girlfriend and her coworkers. They all adore you, but it does confuse them how someone like you could be dating someone like the redheaded woman. You’re calm and level-headed, and they’ve seen Melissa in her fits of rage. Regardless, they support your relationship wholeheartedly and eagerly.

“So,” Jacob hums loudly as he practically stares down his two coworkers that he’s closest to. “Does anybody have any big news to share with the group?”

You just roll your eyes in good nature at the secondary education teacher. He’s always so nosey, but he means well. You steal another bite of your girlfriend’s lunch, despite the fact that you have the exact same dish in front of you.

Janine and Gregory each share a look, before the shorter woman breaks out into a grin. “We actually do have some news… Thank you, Jacob.”

Jacob looks quite proud of himself, and it’s immediately clear to the rest of the room that this was an orchestrated act.

“So, Janine and I were talking last night, and…” Gregory nudges his girlfriend.

Janine holds up her left hand, and there’s a sparkling ring sitting on her ring finger. “We’re engaged! We’re getting married!”

Immediately, the group of teachers erupts into cheers, shouting their congratulations. It’s all a bit hectic for a few minutes as everyone tries to get a glimpse at the rock before it dies down.

“Damn, Eddie,” Ava looks him up and down once she’s seen the ring. “If I had known this is what I could’ve gotten, I woulda flirted with you way harder than I did.”

“And I would have happily reported you to HR,” Gregory replies with a satisfied smirk. “But thank you. I did what I could.”

“As you already know,” the second grade teacher smiles and claps her hands together. “Abbott is family to us, so of course you’re all invited to the wedding. We haven’t set a date yet, but we’re thinking sometime next year?”

“We’ll all be there, sweetheart,” Barbara puts in warmly. “We’re all very happy for the both of you. What a wonderful step the two of you are taking.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Janine so excited, and that woman is always practically bouncing off of the walls with energy.

But then the naive and in love woman looks to you and Melissa. “When do you think the two of you will be getting married?”

“This is your day,” you tell her gently. “Let’s keep the attention on you.”

“But I’m curious!” Janine argues. “I mean… I would love to have a double Abbott wedd-”

“Yeah, no, kid,” Melissa cuts in. “I love ya, don’t get me wrong, but I would rather die than have a double weddin’.”

“Besides,” you say as you lay a gentle hand on your girlfriend’s knee. “We don’t really see a need to get married. We live together, we’re happy together, and we don’t necessarily see the need to have a piece of paper solidify our relationship. But we are truly so happy that the two of you have decided to tie the knot.”

The rest of lunch is buzzing with questions about the engagement and talks of what Janine has already mentally planned for what she and Jacob are describing as ‘the wedding of the century’. Gregory just looks at his fiancee with a love in his eyes that you recognize as the way that Melissa looks at you. Every once in a while, he will interject his opinion though because some of Janine’s plans are a bit over the top.

“Hun, we can’t afford that,” the man says quite a few times. “Not on our teacher salaries.”

His objections don’t deter her in the slightest. She just smiles at him and nods along, claiming she’ll find a lower budget option with the same amount of pizazz. You listen, quietly amused, while your girlfriend takes in the conversation around her. For once, she doesn’t offer up any sarcastic quips. You chalk it up to her not wanting to ruin the moment for Janine and Gregory, but what you don’t know is that Melissa is deep in thought about engagements and weddings, marriage. The way that you so casually explained that you probably would never be married struck a chord in the redhead. She almost sees it as a challenge now to get married.

After about fifteen more minutes of chatter, the teachers have to find their ways back to their classrooms for the rest of the day to prepare and go through the rest of their data while you have to find your way out of the school.

“I’ll see you at home?” you ask sweetly.

When your girlfriend doesn't quite respond, you set a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Honey? I’ll see you at home?”

Only then does Melissa seem to understand that you’re speaking directly to her. “Y-yeah. I’ll see you at home, mi amore.”

She kisses you warmly, and then you grab your purse and exit, calling goodbye to your girlfriend’s coworkers as you make your way out.

You’re lounging on the couch with your book in hand when Melissa comes into the house from work. She kicks off her shoes, and she’s practically straddling your lap before she even drops her bag on the floor next to you.

You kiss her back passionately before pulling away with a giggle and a rosy tint to your cheeks. “Oh!” you giggle out as she continues to chase your lips. “My love, not that I’m not enjoying this, but what did I do to deserve this greeting?”

She doesn’t answer, instead just kissing you with desire and hunger- she’s being greedy. You can’t do anything but give in to what she wants, but air quickly becomes a necessity.

Her eyes are blown wide with lust for you, but you know you have to get her to talk to you before you can do anything else. “Baby? What’s going on?”

“I’m just so damn in love with you,” she mumbles as she starts to graze your neck with her lips and teeth.

That’s all you need to hear before you allow her to lower you to a laying position on the couch, throw your book haphazardly, and have her way with you.

It’s a bit later that your legs are still shaking just slightly, but you’re clean and your clothes are back on. Your girlfriend just nuzzles into your hold, humming as she cards her fingers through your hair gently.

“My girl,” she whispers as she dots a few sweet kisses to your head. “Mine.”

“That I am,” you chuckle softly, still in somewhat of a haze after the mind-blowing couch sex. “What’s got you acting like this?”

“Just a day,” Melissa tells you as she kisses you again on the lips. Then she sighs. “Can we just call for delivery? I’m exhausted, an’ I don’t feel like cooking.”

You don’t quite know if she’s exhausted from the professional development day, or if she’s exhausted from the effort she just put in to satisfy you, but you hum and nod your agreement.

“Chinese?”

“Chinese,” you agree.

As you’re waiting for the food to come, your girlfriend decides that she needs to shower. You lounge in the living room, feet tucked beneath your figure, when your phone begins to ring. It’s your mother. Of course it’s your mother. With a heavy sigh, you reach for the ringing device on the coffee table.

“Hey, Ma,” you answer.

You can hear how delighted she is that picked up. “Hey, sweet girl. Just calling in to check up on you. It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you.”

“I called you yesterday,” you deadpan.

You can practically see your mother shrug into the phone. “And a lot could’ve happened in a day!”

You can’t help the laugh that comes tumbling out of your mouth before you begin to fill her in on your day. You tell her how you were off from work so you were able to sleep in, and then you went to Abbott for lunch with your girlfriend.

“Oh, and how is Mel?” your mother asks.

“She’s good,” you promise. “Tired after today, so she’s in the shower, but I’m sure she’d tell you hello if she were here.”

“Good. The two of you need to come up for dinner sometime soon. Your dad and I aren’t getting any younger, you know.”

“I’ll talk to her,” you promise. “Oh! You know what did happen at the school today?”

“What?” It’s clear that your mother is intrigued. She’s been to Abbott as a guest reader in your girlfriend’s class, and has therefore been privy to the redhead’s coworkers.

Melissa exits the bedroom, wet hair still clinging to her pajamas when she hears you talking to who she can only assume is your mother on the phone. Usually, she would walk right into the room, calling out a greeting as she takes her place beside you. But something in her stops herself, and she listens to your words just out of eyeliner.

“You remember Lis talkin’ about her coworkers, Janine and Gregory?” At your mother’s hum, you continue. “They got engaged. Wedding next year.”

“Oh how wonderful for them. Let them know I said congratulations,” your mother smiles into the phone. “Hey, when can I expect the two of you to finally pull your heads out of your asses and get hitched already? I want grandkids, you know.”

“Ma,” you sigh and roll your eyes. “You know Lis and I aren’t really planning on getting married.”

“And why would that be?” your mother pries, despite the fact that she’s well aware of the reasoning.

“Because,” you chuckle. “I’m in no rush, if at all. And Lis has done marriage and divorce before. She don’t want to get married again, and that’s more than okay with me. Besides, we live together. She’s practically my wife as is. Who says we need a silly little paper to tell us that we’re together forever?”

“All I’m sayin’ is, I want grandkids. And you could use the insurance from the school- yours is shit. You can only claim it if you’re married. And, God forbid anything happen to either of you…”

“Ma, we already have all of that sorted out,” you try to reason with your mom. “We’re in a place where we’re content. I wish you could be happy with how we’ve chosen to live our lives.”

“I am!” your mother protests. “You know I adore Melissa, but I want grandkids!”

“I can give you grandkids without being married, Ma. But don’t hold your breath. I’m in no rush to have kids, if I have any at all. And Lis is practically a mother to twenty five children as it is with her job.”

Something in your mother finally gets her to relent. “I suppose I’ll just have to move onto your sister.”

“Yeah,” you snort out. “You do that, Ma. Just don’t tell her I sent you her way.”

“Oh, you know I’ll be sure to tell you you sent me to her,” your mom teases you.

You roll your eyes. “How are you and Dad?”

Melissa sees this as a good opportunity to enter the room, with your mother telling you about her day and what she and your father got up to today.

“Ma?” she whispers. You nod, and during a brief pause, the redhead calls her greeting into the phone.

“Mel!” your mother grins into the phone. “How are you dear?”

“Just fine, Nel. Tell Rick I said hey too when you get a chance.”

“I will dear,” your mom promises. And then she’s off and telling you more about her day. She chatters on for a few minutes before the doorbell rings. It’s your food.

“Ma?” you interrupt her gently as she tells you about the chronicles of her canasta game. “I hate to go, but our food just got here, and I’m starving. I’ll call you soon, yeah?”

Melissa stands to answer the door as your mother reluctantly lets you go, but only after quite a few promises of calling her again soon- coming up for a visit.

The redhead is already sorting out your food from the bag when you’re finally able to end the phone call, and she looks to you with a smirk. “Just a catch up call?”

“Just a catch up call,” you groan. “Woman acts like she hasn’t talked to me in years when I called her yesterday. She says to tell Janine and Gregory congratulations by the way.”

Melissa nods and hands you your pair of chopsticks and food before grabbing her own. You gently drape your legs over her lap with a smile, and green eyes are rolled fondly.

“So, anything else happen once I left Abbott today?” you ask.

Your girlfriend huffs. “Yeah. Loads of bullshit, that’s what happened today.”

She launches into some story about Ava and the data analysis, how the way that they retained their reports was deplorable- a school to prison pipeline really. You can’t help but chuckle at the way she explains the details, loudly and with lots of emotion. Your eyes go soft as you remember just how in love you are with the woman in front of you. The way that she cares about her students and her employment so much is… she goes above and beyond, really.

“Oi,” Melissa nudges you. “I’m over here talking about the school to prison pipeline, an’ you’re giving me lovesick puppy dog eyes. What the hell?”

You lean up and kiss her sesame chicken stuffed cheek gently. “I just love how passionate you are about your job and your kids. It’s really admirable. I wish I cared about my job that much.”

“You know what else I’m passionate about?” your girlfriend chuckles quietly and winks at you. Then she wiggles her eyebrows.

“Jesus, Lis. Always thinking about sex,” you roll your eyes, but a smirk is evident on your face.

“You’re sitting here in booty shorts and a sports bra with your legs draped over me, and I’m not supposed to be thinking about sex?” Melissa challenges.

“We had sex before the food got here. Eat your dinner,” you roll your eyes once again as you pick up another piece of broccoli with your chopsticks.

The two of you finish you meals in relative silence as the television plays softly in the background, your girlfriend in her head and thoughts about what had been revealed earlier that day in the staff room, and then what she had overheard while you were on the phone with your mother.

It’s not much later that the two of you are heading to bed, and Melissa just can’t keep her hands off of you- and not in that way. You know that you were joking about sex earlier, but you’re both so exhausted you don’t even know if you could manage right now without falling asleep. Her arms are just wrapped around your frame as you brush your teeth, as you comb your hair and take off your makeup. Her chin rests gently against your shoulder blade, and you feel a soft kiss being pressed to it. She doesn’t detangle herself from you even as you make your way into the bedroom. The only time that she lets you go is when you crawl into bed. Still, almost immediately once you’ve settled under the covers does she attach herself to your side again. Her head rests gently on your chest, red hair splayed out underneath of her.

“I love you,” Melissa whispers softly.

You press a warm kiss to her temple, muttering out a soft, “Love you too, Lis,” before you allow your eyes to flutter shut and sleep to take you away.

While you’re sound asleep, your girlfriend stays up for some time thinking about everything that had taken place today. Is… should the two of you get married? Your mother made a few good points. She knows you want kids at some point, and being on her insurance would probably beat the shitty insurance that the district offers her. And God forbid something happen to her, she would want you to be taken care of- you would get the house, her belongings… everything. But what you had said was true- the two of you were practically married as is. You’ve been together for three years, you live together, you’ve been through good times and bad. You don’t need a paper to prove to the world that you love each other.

But… she finds that she wants that stupid piece of paper. Melissa realizes that calling you her partner, her girlfriend, the love of her life that she isn’t married to just isn’t enough. She wants to have the privilege of introducing you to new people as her wife, as Mrs. Schemmenti. And she can’t do that if the two of you aren’t married. Silently, she decides that she might just have to fix this situation she’s found herself in.

The two of you wake up in a warm and sleepy haze. Melissa’s arms are wound tightly around your waist, her face practically in your chest from when you had turned in your sleep. Your legs are tangled with hers, and you’ve never woken up so warm and light.

“Good morning,” you whisper as you kiss her nose softly.

She just smiles. “Waking up next to you everyday, it’s always the best part of my day.”

“Stop trying to charm me,” you chuckle. “You already got the girl, and there’s no way that my bedhead and morning breath is the highlight of your day.”

Green eyes are soft and full of love as she looks into your own. “I promise you, my love.”

You lean in to kiss her.

She’s clingy the rest of the day, like how she was last night. And while it’s not unwelcome, it isn’t quite like your girlfriend. Yes, she likes to touch you- she’s usually not all that far from you while you lounge around the house on a lazy Saturday, but today you can’t seem to escape her hold. And if you do, it’s because Melissa is up and getting you a cup of coffee, grabbing the television remote from the other side of the couch, or she’s draping a blanket over you when you shiver. But as soon as the task at hand is complete, she’s right back to you- arm draped over you, kissing your head, tracing patterns on your thigh as you read, just simply enjoying your presence.

You let her do this in silence- you don’t mind it. But it does confuse you. For the morning, you simply chalk it up to still being exhausted from the previous day, but even a time where she should be refreshed and back to her normal self, she isn’t.

Finally, around two in the afternoon, you can’t quite keep it inside of you anymore. You have to know why she’s acting like this, and without an apparent reason.

“Lis?” you crane your neck to look at her. She’s currently sitting behind you and massaging your shoulders as you watch television.

She answers by dotting a few kisses to the slope of your neck.

“Lis,” you repeat again, and you have to fight the moan that wants to come out of your mouth. Her hands and lips are almost irresistible. “Honey.”

“I love you,” she whispers against your skin.

“I love you too,” you smile softly and turn in her arms. “But babe, I gotta ask: why are you so lovey today?”

“Am I not allowed to spoil my girlfriend?” Melissa asks you.

You chuckle and kiss her softly. “You definitely are, but… I’m not forgetting an important day for us or anything, am I?”

“You think I need a special day to show you how much I love you?” she retorts.

You shake your head. “Well, no, but-”

“I love you,” your girlfriend tells you. “That’s all.”

You chuckle and kiss her again. Although you don’t believe her, something had to have happened to have her acting like this on a random Saturday, you relent. “Okay, honey.”

You let her continue to be clingy- it’s not like you mind it. Melissa is always so hellbent on showing her tough side, and you absolutely melt at being privileged enough to see the walls come down and her heart show. She continues to shower you in words of affirmation, and the look in her eyes is a look of love, but it’s different from the usual love you see.

The two of you are cooking dinner in your loungewear when she takes hold of your left hand. She brings it up to her lips and kisses your ring finger specifically.

“Lis?”

She just hums in response before pulling you in close and continuing to tend to the pot that she’s stirring.

“Honey?” That was odd.

Melissa looks to you. “What?”

“What was that?” you ask with a raised brow.

She smirks at you before casually replying, “I think your left hand might look better with a couple rings on it, don’t you think?”

“What?” Your jaw drops at her words, spoken as if she was telling you about the most mundane things in life, not marriage.

Melissa kisses the side of your head. “I’ve been thinkin’.”

“Clearly,” you chuckle softly.

“Can I admit somethin’ to you? Without you gettin’ mad?”

Your brows furrow. “What did you do?”

Your girlfriend’s hands immediately go up in surrender. “Nothin’ bad, babe. I just… with Janine and Gregory getting married, your words about not needing a silly little paper did something to me. And then… yesterday when you were on the phone with your ma, I may have heard you tell her I was practically your wife anyway.”

“You are,” you confirm. “But I know you don’t want the legalities of it all, and I’m okay with that- I told you that when I moved in.”

“What if- what if I don’t want just ‘practically’ no more?” she asks hesitantly. “What if I want it officially, and to be able to introduce you as Mrs. Schemmenti, my wife?”

Your eyes widen slightly. “I mean…”

“I’ll put it to you this way,” Melissa sighs softly. She pauses to stir the contents of your meal again. “When… when I married Joe, I knew it wasn’t the fairytale I imagined as a kid. So when it didn’t work out, yeah- it sucked. The circumstances made it suck a lot more. But… I don’t feel that way with you. I feel like everyday is a dream when I wake up beside you. You’re the… the miracle I’ve been waitin’ on.”

Tears begin to spring to your eyes at her vulnerable and meaningful words. “R-really?”

“Really,” she whispers as she kisses your head again. “An’ I’m not sayin’ we need to rush anything, but I… I think we should think about next steps. Ring shopping, an engagement, maybe a small, low-key wedding?”

You nod against her. “I- I think you’re on to something.”

When Monday rolls around and Melissa, now your fiancee, walks into the staff room of Abbott Elementary with a sparkling ring on her finger… well, she can only smirk.

“I guess I want that stupid piece of paper after all.” And then when she sees Janine’s face, she quickly adds, “And no- we will not be having a double wedding."

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