#not if youre . gonna keep doing this to me. n i feel lighter

[29121996]

made a joke 2yrs ago abt if it didnt work out w him id have to just date women

[teeskzagain]

°. *࿐ Squirts ꩜ .ᐟ

in which your poor boyfriend is already overstimulated...but you can't stop until he.....!

warnings: sub!heeseung x gentle!dom reader, handjobs and squirting (yeah that's about it), overstimulation, use of pet names: 'seungie', baby, honey.

"Seungie...how're you feeling?"

Quietly, you swing your head forward and to the side, wanting to get a better view of the boy. Your lower back rests against the bed frame with your legs straightened out in front of you. In between them lays Lee Heeseung.

His bare torso leans on top your chest, though, there was a slight hunch to his backside. You could see his body heave up and down as he actively produces whiny pants.

You wait, blinking patiently as you watch his struggling face. His eyes are squinted shut, teeth clenched into a straight line, eyebrows digging into his brow bone. Almost as if he were in pain.

You regard your boyfriend even if he doesn't reply to you. You keep scanning your innocent eyes over his stature, accepting the silence as your hand continues to leisurely pump his nearly liquified cock.

"Hmm? Is it becoming too much?"

Eyes boring deep into his side profile, you work your grip gently up and down his erection. Each stroke sends him deeper into despair. Your hand is full of pre-cum, and seeing as you're on your third round of edging, he feels himself growing basically numb from just leaking nothing but the first stages of arousal. He hasn't even came yet, and already his cock feels tired.

"Are you about ready?" Your voice buzzes lowly, like you're speaking directly into his brain, "Ready to finally cum all over my hand?"

The soft care laced within your tone has him melting, and he can't help the small whine he does as a reply.

"Baby," his grimaced face finds its way closer to yours, and soon he's opening his glossy eyes that are full of plead, "-so close. Please, 'm so close. Can feel myself about to cum."

He gasps lightly when you suddenly change your pace to go faster, "Please- let me."

Heeseung grips the comforter for support. A stifling moan leaves his throat from how overstimulated he's starting to feel. Covered in his own slick, he can't help if he's starting to come undone from your strokes.

"Oh, poor baby..." Gently, you bring your mouth to his bare shoulder and place a tender kiss, "You're okay, you can release it now. Wanna see you cum now." You give another kiss on his smooth skin and in turn his breathing turns to huffs which gradually get louder.

He can't take it anymore. He just physically can't. You're squeezing his head too hard, and each time he mews lighter. Your fingertips playing with his slit after every spew of liquid just makes his body stutter. You're not just jerking him off, your hand is weaving every other direction as a means of stimulating all of his swollen, pink, drenched cock.

He feels his hips chasing your hand now, "Oh- baby. I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum right no..."

You fasten the pace for him, pulling at and gripping his wet skin until eventually he's ejaculating everywhere. His cum spews all over his tip, and into the crevice of your hand. Some flies in front of you two and lands on your naked legs, while some falls to his stomach.

"Fuck, hmmm Y/N. Feels so fucking good. So fucking-" His eyes are rolling into the back of his head, all the while his load just doesn't stop. And neither do you.

"Keep going. Come on, honey." You coo sweetly as your fingers curl even deeper into his erection while still jacking him off rapidly.

Heeseung, who's becoming overwhelmed with the sensation, lets out a hick, "Mm, baby. What are you.."

"Wanna see it all. So i need you to keep going." You mumble with focused eyes at what you're doing to him. The squelching from earlier has amplified along with how red Heeseung's poor cock looks. You feel yourself getting turned on from looking at his delicious cock.

"Wait-" Heeseung shifts his body around, trying desperately to move way from you, "Wait-! Slow down.."

"Just a little more." You encourage, your hand going lightening speed. The cum and arousal are mixing together because of your movements, and soon a milky substance begins to coat his length. He twitches harshly above you.

"Y/N! N-no, please- I'm gonna-!"

Before you know it, he's crying out the loudest moan from all night as a long distance of arousal shoots out from his tip. More follows suit, soaking your hand until it's essentially drowned out and the bed in front of you both.

His cock continues to squirt bits and pieces of the arousal, all the while his fountain of liquid begins to decrease.

You smile happily at your boyfriend, now slowing down on his cock that's bruised like no other, while sending him quiet praise, "See. I knew you had it in you. Good job, did so good for me."

Placing another soft peck on his shoulder, you keep mumbling tiny words while nursing his overstimulated cock, loving how Heeseung relaxes his tired body into yours.

[iwaasfairy]

IWA HARSH PUSSY SLAPPPPSSS OR FINGERINGGGG

a/n. yea I made it dad iwa and also some oc bullshit fucking suE ME but it’s good i like this one yeAAAA I hope you enjoy BBYYYYY I know I liked writing it hahahHAHA

GET IT RIGHT

tw. incest, dad x daughter, single dad iwa, reader’s a brat, obv age gap, size stuff implied, pussy slapping, (hard-ish) dom iwa, brat taming, noncon voyeurism, it’s a family affair, solo masturbation, jealousy wc. 3k

iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader, iwaizumi eiji and hitoshi x fem!reader

Its not his business that you’re a total nympho. Frankly, he could care less. Hitoshi’s eyes flick from under his baseball cap to the older sibling’s smug, almost accomplished smile when he runs a hand through his head of hair, before shaking some of the excess water out. The lighter brunet chuckles. “Our little sister’s laying on a towel with her tits out in the Oikawa’s backyard.”

“Dad’s over there, ain’t he?” Hitoshi responds, already back to scrolling mindlessly through Reddit to cure some of his boredom. Head of the Iwaizumi house said to ‘go outside for a bit’ so here he is, sweating his ass off in the lawn chair. What you’re up to really is none of his concern. Really. Eiji only smiles.

“And what? You think he’s gonna tell her off? Be for real for a second, Tosh.” There’s a look on Eiji’s face. Mixed in under the amusement and the bolstering, there’s something a bit tense. Impatient, and though he’d sooner die than admit it, Hitoshi recognises the glint that sits in the slight scrunch of his nose. He’s jealous. Yeah, you’re the type of little sister who gets away with having your tits out while they’re supposed to pretend not to see it. After sloppily patting himself dry with one of the towels, the oldest sibling slaps his phone out of his hands to grunt. “Get up.”

He responds before he thinks. “Fuck you, bitch.”

But it doesn’t bother his brother, who only tosses the towel back onto the table. “Stop intellectualising it and get up. You wanna get a look too, right? Dad’s over there right now to keep an eye on our little sister, and no one else is home. What do you think’s gonna happen.”

+

The sun’s so nice on your bare skin, glowing heat onto you and making you feel so sleepy and dazed. You’re all housesitting, which means access to the ridiculously nice pool of the Oikawa’s — and a secluded garden where you’re free to do whatever the fuck you want. The low voice is the only thing interrupting the peace. Daddy. “Babe. What do you think you’re doing?”

Your hat’s covering most of your view, but if you crack open one eye you can just about make out the way your dad crosses his arms over his wide chest, wife beater clinging a bit too tight to his muscular form. You push your lips out. “Sunbathing.”

“Put something on.” He sounds a bit tight, like he’s gotta clear his throat. Good.

“Why though?” You lift the hat up with one finger to look up further, see the slightly flushed visage of your father as he eyes you down. He’s a bit sweaty, yard work, and now has all his attention aimed at you. “I can’t get warm evenly all over if I do. Besides, no one’s home, and no one’s gonna look at me. The only people who can see into the yard is us, and Hitoshi nii’s not going to crawl out of his dungeon to spy on me, I promise you.”

It stays quiet for a few seconds as he takes in your words, before he sighs. Frowns just a bit, as he lets his eyes glide down your body just once. Enough to have his jaw clench, though. “I’m working here.” Then, after a bit more thought, he forces out the rest of the words. “You’re distracting.”

“Daddy~ please~” you start though, now pushing off the hat completely and wrapping your arm around yourself in mock-modesty. You have no intention of actually covering up. And looking at the way he’s breathing and already sweaty, he doesn’t actually want you to cover up either. “Nobody’s home. It’s fine. Please?” His olive green eyes flick to the way you’re pushing up your tits with your arms now, and those swimming trunks start feeling a bit tight on him if the way he shifts is anything to go by. The intense look would’ve scared you off before, but… well, it isn’t the first time you’ve gotten away with worse.

It also probably won’t be the last. “Once the sun is gone I’ll cover up to go back into the pool out front, promise.” You smack your lips, and give him those big puppy eyes that he seems to love so much. “Ei nii’s out there and I don’t want him to get an eyeful anyway.” You roll onto your side to send him your best smile. “Only trust you like that, daddy~” You’re audacious, a brat, but only because you know that gets him going. Wouldn’t do it this way if he really didn’t like it. When you go to lay back down with closed eyes, you can already hear him move in the grass.

A slight line works its way between your brows at that, at the idea that he’d walk away from you. But then a warm palm wraps around your arm to pin it beside your head on the towel, and you can feel the heat of him getting onto his heels beside you. Your breathing hitches, but you force yourself to keep your eyes closed. “Trust me to do what, exactly?” He rasps.

His other hand comes to your shoulder to push his thumb in, nice and hard, and works a moan out of you before you can think— working his way down in circles that pull goosebumps out of you. “What’s all this show really for? To make your big brothers jealous? Hm?” He gets close enough for the whispered voice to tickle your neck, hot thigh pressed against your waist before he places the other on your other side, straddling you. “You think that you can ‘daddy’ all your problems away? That if you look at me sweetly enough I’ll give?”

“I- didn’t-” your voice hitches when his mouth drags over your pulse, slight stubble and warm lips leaving kisses all down the length if it. The heat of the sun on your naked chest only makes the almost touch more irritable and itchy, and you have to fight the urge to just curl your body up against him already. “Didn’t want my big brothers to see. Wanted -you to.” When he noses at your collarbone you try to find your voice, and worm your wrist out of his grip to reach for his hair. “Wanted daddy to play with me again. I’ve been waiting since yesterday. Please.”

You can’t help but think back to last weekend, grinding down on his thigh with his fingers down your throat. Panties coated in stickiness and your entire body trembling with exhaustion. He laves soft mouthed kisses onto your throat enough to have you shaking now, too. But Hajime’s nothing if not consistent, as he noses the side of your breast and his hands slide down to squeeze your waist. “You know that I can’t, right?” He always says that.

You can’t help but laugh, humourlessly, and tug softly at the hair trapped between your fingers. “Then why are you?” And he is. As soon as he gets near enough, you arch your back automatically, still clenching your eyes closed. If you look now, the image will haunt you every day for the rest of summer. You’ll need daddy’s hands on you until you can’t go any more. Your tit is pushed against his cheeks because of your motion, and he groans a low, rumbling sound against your body. You can feel the heat of his bulge through his shorts. “Did you get jealous that Eiji might’ve seen me? Even a little?”

A second passes, before he finally grunts. “Fuck, yeah.” His mouth comes to your tits, tongue rubbing over hardened nipples too well, too knowingly. Knowing your daddy’s had other women before could make you green with envy, but he feels so good. His mouth, and hands feel so fucking good. Good enough to cry about it, trapped under his broad, heavy form as he squeezes and sucks your tits. “You’re a headache, you know that? Do you feel what you do to me?”

“Mhm.” You nod, panting, squirming under him. His hardening cock pushes against your thigh as you roll your hips, and he leaves impatient lovebites all over your tits. “Daddy.. d-daddy. Want you.” He’s so big and hot and heavy against you any time you get this close, it’s not your fault. You’re only a headache because he made you one. The clothed grinding against his covered, hard cock leaves your pussy awfully wet and sticky. Your breaths short. “Don’t you wanna- s-show your boys who your daughter belongs to, daddy?”

Your eyes shoot open when a sharp sting jerks your body, spreading through the flesh of your tit before he laves his tongue over the ridges where his teeth dug in. He clicks his tongue while grinding your other nipple between his fingers, making your bottom lip wobble. It feels so good, he always does. It’s not your fault. “Stop tempting me to make you regret your little stunt.” Your teary eyes meet his, dark and predatory before he pushes himself up, and yanks you closer by your thighs. “Legs up on my shoulders.”

“But-“

“Legs.” He says again, lower. You do, let him help your ass up to his mouth and reposition you so he’s level with your cunt. Your pussy clenches around nothing as he blows on your clit through the fabric, and only one hand keeps wrapped like a vice around your thigh to stabalize you. “I don’t wanna hear anything except how good it feels. Understood?”

You nod, before thinking better of it and speaking up. “Yes.” Fuck, it’s hot. He’s hot. You’re about to melt into a puddle with his face between your legs. He pushes your bikini bottoms aside with rough fingertips before pushing in. And you gasp, doing everything not to whine already. As his nose pushes against your sensitive clit, his lips find yours to leave a wet kiss on the opening, and he pushes his tongue against your sloppy lips without another warning. It’s already too much.

“Agh- d-daddy. You feel g- gh-ud.”

The big, hot tongue pushing you open, makes you grind against him while blood rushes both to your cunt and your head. His other hand flicks over your enterance a few times instead, before two thick fingertips push inside you, slow at first. He makes a show out of bottoming them out, and you can feel the way he smiles when it makes your pussy squelch. His tongue flicks over your clit hard and fast, before sucking. “Fuck, you’re so- good- g-good to me. Daddy!”

“Mhm.” The blood makes your ears ring. It makes you so dizzy it’s impossible to see much past daddy’s face and how good he looks, rubbing his tongue in rough motions over your pussy. He’s licking and licking and licking against your clenching muscles so good it’s almost unbelievable. The rough friction of his chin and stubble against your pussy, the way he nibbles just right at your clit, it’s all too much. It’s too much because it’s daddy— because he knows what he’s doing.

“D-daddy!”

You mewl as you curl your body against him and the push to your clit gets even better. Too good. You’re so sweaty his hand slips on your thigh, instead pulling you back by your heel and yanking you back up, right as your toes curl. His face is making a mess between your legs, and your mouth hangs open. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He- he’s already gonna make you cum. Sweat rolls down your back as your juices run down his chin and he buries himself as deep as he can, groaning your name into your pussy. “That’s my pretty girl, there you go.”

Your thighs squeeze around him and your eyes open through your tears, desperately searching for the eye contact you need to get there. But maybe because he knows you, he pulls back and drops you back down by your legs, spreading them by his thighs. “No, no- daddy pleas-uhh~ I wanna cum.”

“You’re coming on my cock.” He snaps back, before pushing you open more and slapping your pussy with a flat palm. “That alright with you, miss princess?” He says it like it’s an insult. For a moment, it does feel like it. Your mouth snaps shut against the cry you wanna let out, as his hand lands again before you can react. You jerk against the sting, clench your legs closed around his hand, but he pushes them back open to do it again. And again, and again, until slick is dripping down to your ass and your clit is tingling and swollen. You could burst out into a sobbing fit any second. “Can I do what I gotta do to get you there now?”

“Yes,” you sniffle back instantly, and open your eyes at him. Thick tears sit on your vision at it, you can’t help it. It’s all his fault you’re this way anyway. Your thighs wobble before your bottom lip does, and it’s this that makes him sigh.

“Aw, babe, shhhh— I’m sorry.” He takes only a moment to pull his shirt over his head, then gets back over you to wipe away the thick tracks. It doesn’t do much against the tears that keep coming, but it’s ok. It’s much better when you can place your hands to his bare chest and feel his heartbeat through your palms, reach up to kiss him. He tastes like you, and you suck on his tongue until he moans into the kiss. When he pulls back, that hot, big palm cups your cheek. “Was that mean?”

“I deserved it.” His dialated eyes search yours for a moment, before he kisses you back another few times. The tingling ache between your legs remains, but there’s a pit in your stomach that becomes more demanding again. “Please keep going?”

“Take me out.” Your hands instantly glide down his body at the order, hooking two fingers around the elastic band before pulling. Pulling down until you reveal the trail of pubic hair that leads down to his thick, flushed cock and down further. Down until the fabric can no longer hold him back from bobbing up against his stomach and he lets out a deep breath. You pull a little more to get a glimpse of his fat, heavy balls too, before daddy grunts and places both elbows by your head again. “Lead my cock inside you like a good girl, hm?”

“Uhuh.” Gladly. Your fingers reach for him, touching the dripping head first. Pre gets all over your fingertips, and you truly can’t stop yourself from putting two fingers inside your mouth with a whimper. Your hands return to squeeze around the head, need both to reach and stroke down a few times. Not that he needs it. He’s hard enough to feel his heartbeat through the skin, thick cock twitching as you shuffle around to line up. “‘s big.”

“It’s big to make you feel good.” He agrees, kisses your temple, and bucks into your palm. “Go on.” You line him up with a deep breath, before blinking your long lashes up at him with your lip between your teeth. The head kisses your hole as he hums, slides your slick around on the puffy mushroom head a few times before pushing in. “Ugh-always forget,” he grunts lowly, biceps bulging as he holds himself above you, “how fucking tight you are. My little baby.”

He starts rocking himself inside you bit by bit, and you can’t help but drag your nails along his flexing back to hang on. “Ah, ah, agh, daddy. You’re- so- big.” You throw your head back, and pant, tears still wobbling. You’re no longer sad though. Your pussy’s being forced open too big, too- fucking wide for you to clench around him properly- but it feels so good. He feels so fucking good, oh God. You want to fuck daddy all summer. You want him to never, ever stop.

+

Hitoshi’s so fucking hot it makes it hard to see straight. Cum’s gotten on his shirt, all over his hand, and he’s got boxers full of cum running down his fucking thigh. While his cock’s still hard and red in his fist as he forces his own hips not to buck. He can just barely hear your whines echo over the field to where they’re hiding— and you sound, predictably, just like how he imagined you do. You look good. Fuck, he’s sure you’d look just as good under him, but instead you’re clinging flushed faced, tits bouncing to your dad with his greying temples and letting yourself get used.

You’re pathetic, honestly. But he’s also not fucking blind. His cock twitches hard in his hand, and his other hand comes to cover the flared head as if that’ll keep a third load in. He’s trying to hold it so hard that he’s panting, balls pulling up to his body.

“Think she’ll let me eat the cum out of her when dad leaves?” Eiji’s pumping his cock without shame like there’s no tomorrow, getting drops of hot, clear liquid everywhere. He’s christened the plants with his cum earlier, too. Hitoshi just grimaces, before looking back at the way your body curls around the fat cock driving in and out of you, your cries about to make him bust again. “Huh?”

“I don’t fucking care, Ei nii.” He then furrows his brows so deep that you’d say he’ll get permanent wrinkles, not bothering to look over. “Why do you wanna eat dad’s cum out of her?”

“So I can fuck my own into her.”

Hitoshi’s too busy watching you and breathing through it to care about what he’s saying, so it takes a minute to filter through his hazy thoughts. “You’re a pig.”

Eiji just rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, quick shot. Have fun trying not to cum when I go next.”

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2024. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[cybrasigilism]

girl, hear me out... jun-ho & the reader doin it in a police car... IF NOT, I COULD TAKE FLUFF IDRC OR MIND 🤷‍♀️

girl when i tell you a giggled with GLEE at this request..

Wheels (Hwang Jun-ho X Reader Drabble)

warnings: smut (no shit sherlock) | non proofread | lowercase intended | car sex (so ig public sex too in a way?) | unprotected sex | oral (f + m receiving) | PiV | overstimulation (f) | praise kink | this is my interpretation of this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own

character: hwang jun-ho (the police officer)

A/N: yk a jun-ho request absolutely hates to see me coming 😈 needed to make this a drabble or i’d go certifiably insane (go listen to VCR/Wheels by Tyler RIGHT NEAOW)

MDNI! 18+ content under the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ ・ ⟢ ──

fucking in the cop car? while being something you yourself have considered a few times since the beginning of your relationship with jun-ho, you always assumed it was something entirely out of the question, especially considering how seriously he took his job. so to say you were shocked when jun-ho was the one to suggest it was an understatement, but you certainly weren’t going to complain.

there were definitely no complaints when you two actually got around to it. now a car definitely isn’t the most romantic of all places to have sex, but you guys for sure made it work. of course, you were going to be on the receiving end of oral first, you knew that jun-ho wouldn’t have it any other way. for some reason, sitting on his face in the fully reclined passenger seat was just ten times hotter. maybe it was the challenge of it all, maybe it was how quickly the windows steamed up, allowing you to leave handprints while you steadied yourself as he ate you out, nevertheless you certainly didn’t want him to stop.

it must have been a special occasion, because this was one of the only instances where jun-ho allowed you to suck his dick. he said preferred to focus on pleasing you, but something inside you figured he was somehow embarrassed of the sounds he made when you let his cock separate your lips. for the first bit, he’d probably try to bite his lip or cover his mouth, anything to hold back his voice. but, if you persist and deepthroat him? yeah he won’t be able to contain himself. now it’s jun-ho who’s steadying himself against the fogged up window, simultaneously grabbing your hair lightly as you try your damnedest to make him feel as good as he makes you feel. he’ll go on about how “i should let you do this more often if you’re gonna suck me this good, fuck” and his moans will be unlike you’ve ever heard them before; lighter, more sporadic, you could definitely get used to this.

you best believe the only way this man is fucking you in the car is if you ride him. the two of you concluded that your go-to position (missionary) would be uncomfortable and impractical if either of you had to lay down in the backseat. even though jun-ho much rathers being on top (in the literal sense), he does get quite touchy while you’re bouncing on his dick. he’ll grab just about anything he can, his main mission is to draw those angelic sounds from your mouth after all. he lets you do most of the work but will occasionally buck his hips up into you if he feels you start to lose your pace, he could very easily just sit back and watch you ride his cock though.

jun-ho will totally praise you throughout the experience, after all why wouldn’t he encourage his pretty girl to continue to fuck him good?

“that’s it, ride me just like that gorgeous”

“don’t stop now, you’re doing so well”

“fuck, if you keep going like this… i don’t think i ever want you to stop”

you guys are both getting overstimulated inside that car, and that is a guarantee. how can you not? when the pleasure is too good, it would be foolish for either one of you to ever want it to come to an end. the more times either of you cum, your rhythm begins to falter, your bodies become shakier and you guys become much more vocal. all of this adds up to making the final climax feel so much better, the last release becomes that much more rewarding.

if this is how car sex with jun-ho looks, then it’s about high time you consider making it a more frequent occurrence.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ ・ ⟢ ──

full disclosure, i was totally zoinked writing this so i’m sorry if it doesn’t make a lot of sense. i fear this has been sitting in my drafts for an embarrassing amount of time but here it is!! i apologize for the delay and thank you for reading :)

as usual, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested!

have a fantastic night/day lovelies 💋

tags: @gongyoosgf @marymustdie @putrescentpoet

[leclarifies]

strawberries & cigarettes (MV33)

✰ max verstappen x driver!reader ✰

summary: you had a bad habit that you never told anyone. it was smoking cigarettes when you had a particularly bad day. max was nothing more than your co-worker, but when he catches you during a particularly hard night, he offers some comfort in the form of strawberries.

genre: fluff-ish me thinks, drabble

wc: 880

a/n: congrats to max who had an absolutely fantastic drive in brazil! here's a little gift for everyone in tribute to max's win last night <3 inspired from troye sivan's song, 'strawberries & cigarettes'. also if you want to be added to my taglist, please do let me know! i've been wanting to start one for a bit now :3

MASTERLIST ✰ ASK ME ANYTHING ✰ REQUEST A FIC!

smoking was a bad habit of yours you'd like to keep a secret. you knew it was bad for your health and you knew you should stop because it might affect your performance on the track but you didn't care once you lit one up and let your worries fade away.

it was a particularly hard night and you just wanted to be left alone.

the sunset was off in the distance as you watched silently, with a cigarette in hand and lighter in the other, leaning against the railing.

italy was beautiful, but you hated today.

smacked with another dnf. driving for alpine had its ups and downs— more downs than you would like and today was no different. especially if it was no fault of your own.

"retire the car," your race engineer had told you through the radio.

you felt like you could cry.

it was your 100th race start and the fucking car couldn't even drive right.

but you did so anyway and off into the garage you went.

dragging a deep breath, you let the smoke in. breathing out only when you felt dizzy enough.

"i didn't know you smoked," a familiar voice sounded from behind you. you knew better to smoke in public but you needed it.

you didn't have to turn around to see who it was, you knew.

"not a lot of people do," you tell him as he leans against the railing next to you.

you glance and you see a pretty dutchman in casual clothing, looking off into the distance as well.

you sat in comfortable silence, the both of you not wanting to say anything.

it was nice hanging out with max, it was always calm, peaceful and quiet. he gave you your space and you always gave him his. tonight was no different.

"do you do it when you're stressed? or is it a thing you do behind the scenes when no one is looking?" max was the first to break the silence as you take a drag of your cigarette, remembering to blow it away from max.

"i do it when i have too many thoughts in my head, cigarettes make me dizzy. in a good way," you tell him, then he glanced at you.

"aren't you scared it's gonna affect your performance?" he asked and you shrugged.

"i came a long way from karting, if cigarettes take me out then it is what it is," you laugh almost bitterly before standing up right and look down on the ground before looking back up again.

the oranges and purples in the sky made it look breathtaking.

"is it hard?"

"what is?"

"being a female driver?"

you only glance at max as an answer, he knew the answer and you knew the answer too.

"that was a stupid question, wasn't it?" max chuckled before looking back at the sunset, the darkening of the sky was apparent, you could only laugh.

"it is hard, max," you could feel him shuffling next to you and you didn't know what he was doing, only realizing he took out strawberries out of his pocket.

"strawberries are better for your health," max tells you gently as he puts one on your palm and pops in his mouth, "they taste better too. i think it'll help you in the long run if i can help you wean off the cigarettes."

"thank you max," you tell him softly, dropping the cigarette bud and step on it once it reaches the ground, also popping it in your mouth in a similar fashion as him but you laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation.

who carries around calyx-less strawberries in their pockets?

"do you usually carry around strawberries without their leaves in your pocket?" you ask as you took another one from his palm which was stretched out to hold a couple more strawberries.

max laughed at the thought but he shook his head, "no, i just came from the store and saw you here, i thought you might need some comfort from today..."

"i should be mad at you for winning so consistently," you laugh, it was annoying seeing him win every single race but you didn't care at this point. there was no reason for you to be mad, only proud of him.

"you shouldn't. you don't have the best car this season, give yourself some grace," max said before you chewed on the strawberries carefully. you cringe as the sour taste of the strawberries mixed with the aftertaste of the cigarettes.

"the taste of cigarettes and strawberries don't go well together," you snort as you continued eating on the strawberries.

"this is a sign for you to stop smoking when you're stressed."

"as long as i get an excuse to finally hang out more with my rival, i'm not complaining."

"are you flirting with me right now, y/n?" max looked at you, almost as if the idea was ridiculous.

"no i want to know your strategies, please hand me some," you gave him and max laughed even more at your pitiful face.

"you'll get a seat next to me next year."

"what do you mean by that verstappen?"

max didn't answer.

"hello? this is not a sign for you to ignore me!"

short drabble, i just wanted to write max without having to deal with off the grid :( hope u guys like it :3

[formula-ghost]

The Driver (FC43 x fem!reader)

SUMMARY: After years of being with your boyfriend, Franco Colapinto, you should feel secure and ready for your budding future. When old anxieties creep in, will your relationship withstand the pressure?

WORD COUNT: 9.5k 

WARNINGS: Semi-public car sex (reader and Franco are both switches, fingering, p in v). Angst, mentions of cheating. Heavy mentions of marriage, incredibly Champagne Problems coded but I have to stick to the Måneskin theme. Probably incorrect geographical depictions of Spain. Reader has an anxiety disorder/struggles with mental health. Same universe as Supermodel/RYD (in RYD, Franco’s Aston Martin contract is only one year, so we’re just skipping ahead here). 

A/N: You all asked for Franco car sex and instead I gave you emotional pain :) I don’t think I’ll ever stop writing for RYD!Franco, I just love him too much. After this I’ll keep writing for Wildflower and then maybe do a few one shots before the next series perhaps? Either way, hope you enjoy!

TAGLIST: [COMMENT TO BE ADDED TO MY FRANCO TAGLIST!]  @scopeiguess @storyteller-le @xivilivix @htpssgavi @wierdflowerpower @justsisse @uncreativetm  @ncrsbrg @tillyt04 @amz824 @ellelabelle @aliwritex

If you gonna set fire to the night, baby let me be the lighter

If you’re already high and you wanna fly, I’ll be the hit that takes you higher

If you wanna love when you touch the sky, you can be my midnight rider

If there’s nowhere to go when you wanna go wild, I wanna be the driver

After getting his first multi-year Formula 1 contract—complete with a hefty sign-on bonus—there were three things that Franco Colapinto needed to buy. 

The first was a house for his parents. 

He led his mother around the massive home, showing her every little detail that he had noticed when he chose it, all perfectly arranged according to her taste. At first, she wasn’t sure what her son was doing; he had wanted it to be a surprise, so he didn’t tell her anything. 

“Yes, Franquito, the home is beautiful,” she said, craning her neck to look at the high ceilings, the sunlight from the massive windows illuminating her face. “But why would you buy a house here in Argentina? You’re hardly ever home, you can just stay with us in the off season.”

Franco, like his mother, was a pragmatist. He’d never buy himself a mansion in Argentina unless he had retired from F1 and decided to settle down. But his career was just getting started. 

She continued, “I mean, you and YN don’t need this much space—”

“It’s not for us, Mami,” he said, finally letting loose the smile that he’d be fighting all day. He was never able to keep secrets, too much of a chatterbox. “It’s for you.”

“Franco—”

“Mami,” he said, already anticipating her hesitation. “It is the least I can do. I can never repay you for all you’ve done for me.”

“That’s my job. You don’t need to repay me.”

“Maybe I don’t need to, but I want to.”

Tears had begun to well up in his mother’s eyes. She knew it was impossible to stop him. It was every athlete’s dream to make enough money to buy their mother a house one day; she wouldn’t take that from him.  “I’m so proud of you, mijo,” he said, enveloping her son in her arms. “You have made me proud beyond measure.”

It was Franco’s turn now to tear up, though he blinked them away and smiled. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I figured something was up,” she laughed, “this house is too much my style for you to buy it. I think YN would like it, though. How is she doing?”

“She’s good,” he answered, unsure of how to proceed. His mother let him pause, knowing he was about to say something. “I’m… thinking about asking her to marry me.”

“Oh, wonderful!” she replied, her smile now stretching ear to ear. 

“We haven’t talked about it yet, though. So don’t get your hopes up. She might not say yes.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” his mother questioned. “You’ve been together for years, through thick and thin.”

“I don’t know,” he said, scratching the back of his neck in nervousness. “We just…haven’t talked about it. I’m nervous.”

“Well, don’t ask her until you’ve talked about it. But I see no reason why she’d say no.” She reached out to smooth over a piece of his hair that was stuck up at an odd angle. “Take your time,” she continued. “If you all aren’t ready now, there’s no harm in waiting. You have the entire rest of your lives to be together.”

Franco gave her a weak smile, his expression still plastered with nervousness. “But when you do get married,” she continued, as if it was a fact, “I expect grandbabies.”

He laughed, despite knowing that she was dead serious. That would be a bridge to cross later.

For now, he had a second purchase to make: his first real car. 

Franco, despite being a Formula 1 driver, had always been down to earth. When he drove for Williams, they had to fight him over taking the bus every day. Even in his early days, his future had been too unstable to spend all his hard-earned money on something like a flashy car, especially since he’d be away so often that he’d hardly be able to use it.

But now, he knew that the time was right, and he’d more than earned it. So, when Franco woke you up at the crack of dawn to go to the luxury dealership in Madrid to pick up his new car the second that they opened, you obliged him despite the hour being far too early. 

As the salesman handed him the keys, Franco beamed as if he was holding his newborn child, his eyes wide with love and anticipation.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered, running his hands up and down along the hood of the flashy luxury car.

You stood back, afraid to even touch this car that was more expensive than your net worth. 

“She’s perfect. She’s the most perfect car I’ve ever seen.” He looked up at you, smiling like a giddy child. “Isn’t she perfect?”

You smiled back, amused by Franco’s happiness. “It certainly is a nice car.”

“It’s not just a nice car. She’s a machine.” You chuckled back at him. “Let’s go for a ride.”

You were honestly a little scared of getting in the car. But when Franco crossed over to open your door for you and help you inside, you couldn’t tell him no.

Sitting inside, you had to admit that it was a really nice car. Franco yapped on about the technical abilities of the engine, but it was in one ear and out the other—despite his many years in F1, you couldn’t say you had learned anything about the machines that your longtime boyfriend drove for a living. But you loved to hear him talk, especially when he was this happy, so you nodded as if you were listening intently. 

Franco went to back up the car, putting his hand on your headrest and leaning over his shoulder. The move showed off his prominent muscles and instantly melted you. Even after all these years, it was the little things that you never got tired of. 

He sped along the highways, giggling to himself as he heard the engine rev and felt the smoothness of the ride. His smile never wavered as he increased his speed and weaved through the slower cars. 

He skipped the exit that would lead back to your home, though. “Where are we going?” you asked.

“I want to show you something,” he said, being intentionally vague with his intentions. 

You raised an eyebrow. Franco wasn’t one for surprises; he talked too damn much to ever keep them. If he hadn’t told you before now, it must be something serious. 

He moved his hand over to hold your thigh, another one of those little things he did that still made you crazy no matter how many times he did it. “Trust me, amor,” he said.

Of course, you trusted him. So when he exited the highway and began driving into the Spanish countryside, you said nothing, instead choosing to enjoy the feeling of his hand rubbing soft circles into your thigh as the trees blurred past you and the engine purred.

After a while he finally slowed his speed, bringing the car up to an empty overlook off the main road. Through the tinted windows, you could see that this place was hidden, nestled off by the trees so that you could only get here if you knew where you were going. The view was gorgeous; miles and miles of lush greenery, and in the far off distance, the city that you had just left. 

“Wow..” you whispered. “How’d you find this place?”

“I used to run on these roads out here when I was younger,” he said, admiring you as you admired the view. 

“It’s beautiful.”

“I don’t get to come here much anymore,” he said. “I never thought I’d come back here one day as a Formula 1 driver.”

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. His face had the slightest tinge of blush, so subtle that only you could see it. 

“Come on, let’s get a good look,” he said, turning off the engine and opening his door.

You got out of the car and softly gasped again when you saw the view with your own two eyes, rather than through the tinted glass. It left you breathless.

You sat cross legged next to Franco on the grass, taking in the sights of the countryside around you. For a while you were quiet, just soaking in the sounds of nature. 

Then Franco broke the calmness. “Have you ever thought about getting married?”

His voice was soft, but his words startled you. “Married?”

“I mean, we’ve been together for a while. About time, no?”

Truthfully, you had thought about marriage quite a bit. The mere idea of it scared you. And talking about it scared you even more. 

“You sound enthusiastic,” you joked. 

“You know what I mean.” He looked down, clearly also nervous for this momentous discussion. Still, he kept his voice light and steady. “I love you. I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“I’d hope not,” you chuckled. But your attempts at diffusing the tension with humor failed.

He adopted a more serious tone. “YN, I want to marry you,” he said. His eyes looked up to meet yours, and for some reason, you felt your heart drop into your stomach. “I’m not proposing right now, but it’s something we should start thinking and talking about.”

You looked out into the distance and took a shaky breath. Why was this so difficult?

“So, talk to me, amor,” he said. 

“You want to marry me?” you asked, your voice small and squeaky.

“Of course I do,” he replied, brushing your hair out of your face. Now there were no barriers between you. “You’re the love of my life.”

You wanted to cry. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know. It’s just so…final. What if something goes wrong?”

“Then we work through it, like we always do.” He was right. Your relationship with Franco had certainly had its rocky patches, but he treated you like a queen. You two overcame every obstacle, including your own mind that often worked against you. You often felt like you didn’t deserve someone so patient and kind. 

“Things change when you get married.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m not saying any of this lightly. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

Even after years of loving him, it still surprised you whenever Franco told you that he thought of you. You could never get used to existing in his head when you physically weren’t there.

“What do you think about?” you asked, moving closer to him.

He reached his arm around your waist, resting his hand on your hip. “I think about you, in a white dress. We’d be in the church in Argentina.” You knew the one. He’d gone there growing up, and had shown it to you several times when you went to visit his family. “And we’d have a ridiculous party, into the morning,” he said smiling, leaning his head down closer to you. “And, a while after that, maybe a few months or a year or so, you’d be eating for two.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop your eyes from watering. “That sounds…”

“Perfect?”

No. You were going to say real. That sounds real. And it scared you. 

Truthfully, you could imagine the wedding, and the babies, and the many happy years of being Franco’s wife.

But you could also imagine the distance. The exhaustion. The bitterness. 

“Growing up, I never thought I’d get married,” you said, shifting the conversation. “I just… I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to marry me,” you laughed. 

“I do,” he said. The effect of his words weren’t lost on you; the same words he would say to take the vow. “I want to marry you.”

You had told him a long time ago that your insecurities weren’t something he could fix. He remembered that, and he respected it. But still, it always broke his heart when he realized that even after years of loving you, those old wounds refused to heal. 

“Why?” you asked. Your head was beginning to hurt from holding in all the tears. 

“Why?” he echoed, incredulous at why you’d even need to ask such a ridiculous question. His voice held no malice, though. “Because I love you.”

“Don’t you get tired of this?”

“Of what?”

“Of…me being difficult for no good reason?”

“You’re not being difficult. Marriage is a huge deal, obviously. I don’t want us to rush into it if you’re not ready.”

“What if I’m never ready?”

He sighed. “Then…well, honestly, that would break my heart. I’d want you to work through whatever is holding you back. But I’d be with you every step of the way.”

You looked away into the distance. Part of you wanted to run and disappear in the thick foliage of the Spanish countryside. The other part of you wanted to bury your head in Franco’s chest, finally letting go of all the reservations that had haunted you for years. 

You knew Franco. You loved Franco. You trusted Franco.

So why were you still so afraid?

“Mi amor,” he said, gently guiding your head so you had to look at him. “Do you want to get married?” He tilted his head closer to you. 

You knew what he was asking. Not if you were ready right now, not if you were scared; but deep down, in your heart of hearts, did you want to marry Franco Colapinto?

“Yes,” you whispered. Just as he didn’t have to explain, neither did you. He knew what you meant; yes, but I’m scared. Yes, but I’m not ready. Yes, but I’m afraid I’ll never be ready.

He brought his lips to yours, gently kissing you as you let the few tears that had been welling up in your eyes finally go. When he pulled back, he wiped them away.

“We don’t have to make a decision now,” he said. “We’ve got time. I want us both to be ready.”

You kissed him again, this time more forceful. There was nothing sexier than a man with emotional intelligence. 

He pulled away again to finish his thought. “Just keep thinking on it, okay? We can talk about it as much as you want.”

“Okay,” you said, smiling as he looked at you.

“What?” he asked, his own playful smile dancing across his face.

“You’re so hot when you respect my boundaries.”

He laughed. “Mi amor, that’s the bare minimum.”

“Keep going,” you joked, “I’m so close.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, leaning down to kiss your neck. “I’ll start misbehaving.”

“Maybe I want you to,” he said, sharply inhaling as he gently bit the skin on your neck, sure to leave a mark.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he nibbled on your earlobe. 

“Get me home and show me how horrible I am, then,” you teased, reaching out to touch his waist. 

“We don’t even need to get home.” He reached up to hold your neck with one hand as he continued kissing up and down your jaw.

“Here?” you said, darting your eyes around. 

“In the car,” he said, his voice already getting breathy. 

“No,” you urged. “It’s new.”

“Exactly. We have to break it in, no? Or bless it,” he said. His hands were beginning to roam underneath the hem of your shirt now.

“You’d never forgive me if I messed up the seats.”

“They’re leather, it cleans easy. I can get it detailed.” He stifled your next complaint with a deep kiss. “No one is ever around here. And the windows are tinted,” he whispered into your mouth. 

You laughed. “You’re a freak.”

“I’m your freak. And don’t lie, you love it,” he said, snaking his hand down to tease its way under your skirt. “I can tell how much you love it.”

You stopped him before his hand could go any further—after all, you were technically still in public. 

“Get in the car, whore,” you joked, before Franco hopped up and nearly sprinted to open the car door and set his seat back as far as it could go. 

He sat in the seat and patted his lap. “You joining me?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, getting up to meet your lover at the car and carefully climb onto his lap, occupying his lips with a deep kiss that he moaned into. 

“Did you plan this?” you asked. 

“Plan what?” he said, a devilish grin across his face. 

“Bringing me out to your scenic spot to fuck me in your new sports car?”

“Wasn’t planned at all. I’m a spontaneous man.”

“Mhm. How many other girls did you bring here before we started dating?”

“Less talking, more fucking, yeah?” he said. You probably didn’t want to know the answer. But that was all in the past. Franco was yours—he had been for years now, and he wanted to be yours forever.

There would be time to think about that later. Right now, all you could think about was the beautiful boy sitting beneath you, looking at you as if he needed you as simply as he needed air. You could feel him hardening beneath you. 

You shifted your weight to straddle him, grinding down on his length, eliciting a sharp exhale from him. 

“You’re so needy today, Franco,” you said as you ran your fingers through his soft curls.

“I’m always needy for you.” He brought his lips back to yours, hungry for the taste of you. His lips trailed down to your jaw and neck. “YN, you don’t know what you do to me…”

“I think I can feel it,” you joked, softly grinding your clothed pussy over the growing bulge in his jeans. 

“Don’t tease me,” he begged, roaming his hands up the hem of your blouse.

“But it’s so fun,” you said, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “I love to see you fall apart underneath me.”

“Fuck, YN—”

“Less talking, more fucking, no?” you said, mocking his statement from earlier. You met his mouth in a kiss, and he moved his hands down under your skirt, running up and down the soft skin of your thighs. When he finally teased his fingers over the wet spot that was already growing in your panties, you softly inhaled, showing your desire for him. 

“I’m not the only needy one,” he teased, breathing in the smell of your perfume and shampoo, his head buried in your neck. 

You softly moaned as he moved your panties to the side and began circling his fingers around your clit. 

“Franco, fuck…”

“What happened to all that talk, huh? Or are you too busy trying not to cum on my fingers?”

All you could do was breathe as his fingers found their way inside of you, pumping in and out to prepare you for his cock. 

“Don’t try to stop it,” he said, “let go. Cum for me.”

You obeyed, your legs shaking as your walls pulsated on his fingers. You whimpered into his neck, steadying yourself by holding him. 

He kissed your cheek, but wasted no time in unzipping his jeans and plunging into you while you rode out the waves of your orgasm. He let out a breathy moan as he felt the sweet warmth of you wrapped around him. 

You were overcome with sensation; the burn of his cock stretching you out, the last dregs of pleasure now mixed with the pain, and the burn in your legs from sitting in the same position for too long.

It was all the more motivation to bounce up and down on his cock, finding a steady rhythm as he guided his hands to your hips.

You rested your head next to his, moaning into his ear with every thrust. The small space of the car may be cramped, but you couldn’t help but appreciate the intimacy of the moment. Franco’s eyes were closed in sensual bliss, his breath ragged as you increased your speed.

You wanted to watch him come undone from the sinful pleasure that your pussy brought him. 

“YN—” he moaned, his hands digging hard enough into your hips to leave bruises, “Oh, God, YN, you always feel so fucking good. So good for me.”

You whimpered from both the praise and the pleasure. You had to slow down—the fast stamina was too much on your legs, which were now burning from the awkward position you were stuck in. 

“I think you were made for me,” Franco whispered. “And I was made for you. See how well we fit together?” He took control, lifting you up as if you were weightless and bouncing you up and down on his own. You yelped at first, then your surprise gave way to bliss as you both chased your release. 

But Franco was relentless in his praise. “You’re my fucking soulmate. I wanna fuck you every day for the rest of our lives.”

“Franco, I’m so close—”

“Cum for me, mi amor. Again.” His own voice was strangled with desire, so close to his own peak.

With a high pitched whine, you obeyed, and the heavenly feeling of your walls contracted around him brought your lover to the edge soon after. 

And when you did both finish, you held each other, too tired to even move from the uncomfortable position from the car. 

Franco was a talker. You always knew that. He loved nothing more than to fill your ears with sweet nothings when you made love. But the context of the conversation that just transpired weighed on you, even with the comfort of Franco’s hands rubbing small circles into your back as you both tried to catch your breath. 

“You okay?” he asked, and you murmured in response, unable to form any coherent words in the aftermath of everything. “Let’s get home and we can take a shower, yeah?”

A warm shower sounded heavenly right now. You awkwardly shimmied your way into the passenger seat and took one last look at the view, thankful that the overlook was still deserted. You sighed as you settled in and buckled your seatbelt, relishing the relief of finally being able to stretch your legs. 

“Hey,” Franco asked as he readjusted his seat and turned on the car. “Are you okay, really?”

“Yeah,” you said. It was true; you were exhausted, overwhelmed, and hurting, but it was all worth it for him. 

He leaned over to kiss your cheek and smiled before putting the car in reverse. 

The third item that Franco had to buy was the ring. 

Truthfully, the conversation hadn’t gone as smoothly as he would have liked. In his dreams, you'd jumped for joy when he’d broached the subject, and you’d live happily ever after.

But despite his disappointment, he understood your hesitancy. He was just as afraid to ask the question as you were to say yes. He knew that your struggles with self esteem and anxiety were lifelong. He knew all this about you from the very beginning, and he loved you anyway. 

Still, it was times like this when it broke his heart that he couldn’t fix it. 

It didn’t matter. You’d come around eventually, you always did. And you had been honest when you said you wanted to marry him—there was just a lot of stuff in the way, mentally and emotionally. 

So yes, he’d wait a while before he popped the question. But that didn’t mean he had to wait to buy the ring. 

He knew the exact one. You had fallen in love with it years ago, when you had worn it in a PR shoot for one of his high profile sponsors. Though time had passed, he still remembered the sadness in your eyes when you had to give it back after the photoshoot. He had vowed to himself that day that he’d earn enough to get you that ring.

And now he finally had. 

A few days after your conversation, he found the now faded card that he had stuck in his wallet and called the number. When the same brand rep picked up, he exhaled, letting go of his fear.

“Franco! How nice to hear from you. I was beginning to think we’d scared you away.”

“No,” he laughed. “The opposite, actually.”

“Let me guess. You’re ready for that ring?”

‘How’d you know?”

“I’ve been doing this a long time. When a woman looks at a ring like that, and she’s with a man that truly loves her, it’s just a matter of time.”

He had swiped another ring of yours to get the measurements, and he completed the entire order over the phone on his drive back home from a day of pre-season meetings. He had three months before the beginning of the new season, and he wanted to propose before that so you could start wedding planning once the season started. Would three months be enough time for you to think about it? He didn’t know. 

But he couldn’t wait any longer. The giddiness was eating him alive. 

You could tell something was amiss, but the idea of a proposal was the last thing on your mind. 

Franco was hiding his phone from you. Which meant that Franco was hiding something important from you, and he was doing a horrible job of it. 

Your lover was never the type to be quiet or secretive about…anything really. He talked too much. You had to physically restrain him every Christmas from spoiling what he got you weeks in advance. So if there was something that he was truly trying to hide, it was something major. 

And it scared you. 

The thought that you had been holding back for years finally broke through one night where he put his phone face down at the dinner table after his phone lit up with several notifications. 

“Who’s texting you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice innocent despite the rush of dread that was rising in your stomach.

“No one,” he answered, too quickly for your liking. You didn’t respond. 

You knew Franco was attractive. Every girl would kill to have him. He was kind, funny, beautiful, and flirtatious. But he was yours. Right?

Franco had never crossed the line before. You trusted him with your life. But something within you just felt deeply, deeply wrong, and it came spilling out later that night when he tried to touch you. 

His phone was left on the nightstand, untouched since dinner; his focus was on you, running his hand up and down your side, gently dressing his lips to your shoulder as you faced away from him.

“Not tonight,” you whispered, unable to keep your voice from shaking. 

“All you alright, mi amor?” he asked, pulling back your shoulder to make you face him, seeing how you were desperately trying to keep the tears at bay. 

“I’m fine,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek.

Even after all your years together, Franco never quite knew when to press on and when to keep quiet when you said those two infamous words. And he didn’t have much time to think, because you rose from the bed and left the room, mumbling about needing a minute to get fresh air. 

You stepped onto the back porch and took a deep breath, steadying your heart rate and calming your nerves, if only for a moment. The night air was serene; you felt vile contaminating the peace with your anxiety.

Would this last forever? You couldn’t remember a time when you hadn’t felt this push and pull. You wanted to tell Franco to go, to relieve himself of the burden of your mental illness. You wanted to bottle up every insecurity, every doubt, every negative thought into a vault that you didn’t share with anyone. 

But you couldn’t. If Franco left you’d be broken. You couldn’t stop yourself from letting these thoughts and fears control you. In the past, therapy had helped, but you knew this was a weight you’d always have to carry. And that made you miserable. 

So yes, maybe it was for the better that Franco move on, find someone better, more stable, and build a life with her. 

“Mi amor?”

Franco’s voice broke your hopeless contemplation. 

“Talk to me,” he said. 

You just shook your head. He must be so tired of reassuring you, endlessly, knowing that it didn’t help one bit. 

“YN,” he urged, “you know I don’t like it when you try to shoulder everything alone.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. That was all you could say. “I’m sorry that I’m like this.”

“Like what?”

“Impossible.”

“What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean. We have the same conversation over and over again. Don’t you get tired of it? Of having to reassure me and it never helping? Of me crying over every little thing? Franco, I’m a mess!”

“YN…” he sighed, “When have I ever said any of that?”

He was right. He had never expressed any frustration regarding your mental struggles. He had always been there when you needed him. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Have you just been up in your head, or did something happen?”

You contemplated lying, but you knew better. “You set your phone face down at dinner.”

“I— did you think I was…?”

“It’s not you, Franco. It’s never you. That’s the worst part. You have to deal with all of this and it’s not your fault at all,” you said, not even allowing him to say aloud what you both knew was true. 

Franco took a deep breath. “YN,” he said, calmly, “let’s go back inside and go through my phone.”

“No—”

“Yes,” he commanded. “I want you to be 100% confident that I love you and only you.”

“Franco—”

“Let’s go.”

He had a firmness in his voice that only made your anxiety worse, and immediately you felt horrible for even insinuating anything to the opposite. But he was your rock of reason in times like these when your anxiety took over, and so you followed his command, unlocking his phone when he handed it to you. 

As expected, there was no incriminating evidence, just far too many unopened emails and messages left on delivered. Even his recently deleted texts showed nothing. 

The buzzing that you had been so afraid of turning out to be…emails from a jewelry company?

“I ordered a custom necklace for your birthday,” Franco explained. “They’ve been so difficult, though. They lost the order and then sent me the wrong thing. It’s been hell.”

You handed back the phone with your head hung low, ashamed. “I’m sorry I ruined the surprise.”

“You know I would have ruined it beforehand anyway,” he said. “I’m not upset at you.”

“You should be. You deserve someone who trusts you.”

“You do trust me,” he said, “I know you do. It’s not you that’s saying this.” 

Fuck. Franco really did know you too well. 

“You know why I stay with you, even with all this?” You looked up at him, curious for the answer. He had never been this direct before. He continued, “Well, first of all, because I love you. But even during times when I’m frustrated, I remember everything we’ve been through, when you forgave me and were there for me when I didn’t deserve it. I was so close to losing you and it terrified me.”

Once again, your eyes were watering. He said, “I promised myself that if you really gave me a chance, I’d never forget it. I’d be there for you and be the best boyfriend I could be. Because…” he paused, searching for the right words, “I know that some of why you feel these things is because of how I acted in the past. I’ve done my best to make it right, but some things never leave you.”

“When did you become so damn wise?” you said, laughing through the tears as he smiled and wiped them away. 

“You bring out the best in me.”

The conversation was laid to rest then. Franco held you until you fell asleep, safe in his arms. As he heard your soft breaths even out, he grabbed his phone and frantically searched for a necklace to buy to cover his lie.

He hated lying to you, but in this case, what else was he to do?

The necklace and the ring arrived a few weeks later, right before you all were scheduled to take a flight to Buenos Aires to spend the rest of the break with his family. 

But he had a plan. The break in Buenos Aires would be one to remember—for your “birthday” he was also flying out your friends and family for a few days. He had the whole idea plotted out, with help from many others, to plan a surprise karting birthday celebration, with all your loved ones there. Then, he would propose.

It seemed so perfect—surrounded by all your loved ones, doing a fun activity, the perfect balance between public and private. He knew you’d love it. He knew you’d say yes. 

He was giddy as he carefully packed the two jewelry boxes in his luggage, surrounded by clothes for safe keeping. 

And as the day of the birthday party came closer and closer, he could barely hold in his excitement. Everyone knew but you; he had colluded with every guest, telling them his plan and getting their blessing to finally ask you to spend the rest of your life with him.

Everything was perfect. The day before, you parents and friends arrived, and Franco told you everything but the grand reveal. 

He gave you the present, a beautiful necklace that complimented your tastes perfectly. You split a bottle of wine amongst loved ones, and your parents brought out their own gift: a photo album of pictures that they’d never been able to show Franco. 

You cringed at the embarrassing baby photos and records of bad middle school haircuts, but you couldn’t help the tipsy smile on your face. You leaned your head on Franco’s shoulder as he flipped through the pages.

Franco’s mother got out her own photo albums, showing picture after picture of him as a baby, his blonde curls and toothy grin smiling from ear to ear. 

“You were such a cute baby,” you giggled, and he blushed.

“Were? I’m still a cute baby,” he joked, kissing you on the cheek.  You scrunched your nose and smiled.

You were so in love with this man that it hurt.

That night, when you all retired to your room, he rubbed your back, enjoying the simple quiet between you two.

“I love you,” you said to him out of the blue. He smiled; he said those words often, and you always said them back, but it was rarer, more meaningful, for you to say them unprompted. 

“But it’s not fair. You were a cute baby and you’re cute now. You can’t have both,” you giggled. 

“We’d make cute babies,” he teased, and you blushed. 

“You trying to find out?” you responded, the alcohol in your veins giving you more boldness.

“Not when you’re this tipsy,” he said. “Besides, I need to put a ring on your finger first.”

At the mention of marriage, you sobered up quickly. You hadn’t really been thinking about that conversation you’d had back in Spain—in fact, every time you thought about it, it just made you more anxious, so it had the opposite effect of you actively avoiding it. 

Of course, you were still scared. You loved Franco more than words could say, and that was the problem—it was so good that eventually, it would have to not be good. It was a backwards logic, yes, you had convinced yourself that at some point, things would only be able to go down. 

You didn’t want to lose this beautiful thing you had created. But Franco had said he wasn’t planning to propose any time soon, right? In your mind, you still had plenty of time. 

But Franco did not, and the next morning was chaos.

His phone was blowing up with last minute organizing and words of encouragement from your friends and family in the proposal plan group chat. He was sweating bullets, constantly checking his pockets before you all left for the kart track to make sure that yes, he had the ring. He contemplated putting it in his bag instead, but he didn’t want to lose it, so he ultimately settled on his pockets.

He knew that he needed to stop checking them or else you’d notice and ask. You were always observant, in that way. 

But every time he sat down, the stupid box kept falling out of his shorts. The pockets were too small. He’d just have to check one last time before he left the house and be careful. Yes, everything was going to go according to plan. 

And as you all arrived and he changed into his race suit quickly, all he could think about was the speech he had tried to memorize. You were a woman who appreciated words; he wanted to express how you made him feel, but in his head, he kept stumbling over them. 

YN, you make me so happy. No, too simple.

YN, will you make me the happiest man in the world? No, too cliche.

YN, I never knew happiness until I saw your smile. No, too melodramatic. 

He’d have to figure out the words as he said them. For now, he’d just focus on enjoying the moment with you. 

And that wasn’t hard; you were as giddy as a child as you sped around the track, spinning out and pushing the poor kart to go faster and faster. 

Franco had arranged a tournament of sorts; of course, he had spoken with everyone beforehand to rig you as the winner. 

On your end, you knew everyone was letting you win. You were awful at karting. But it was your birthday event, after all. You didn’t care, you were having fun. 

It came down to the “championship” battle: you versus Franco. Of course, you knew your boyfriend would let you win, as he always did, but you loved the rush of adrenaline as the wind whipped past you anyway. You couldn’t stop smiling as you crossed the finish line and took off your helmet, flipping your hair out. 

You heard Franco stop his car behind you and get out, too. 

“I can’t believe YN won!” Franco’s mother said, smiling wide. 

“Thank you all for so graciously giving me that win,” you joked, looking to all your family and friends circled round, cheering for you. Franco was behind you still. You almost turned to him, but his mother interrupted. “Let me take a picture!”

This was the moment. All he had to do was take the ring out of his pocket and get down on one knee. 

He reached in his pocket and pulled out… nothing. 

His pockets were empty. 

He looked back at his father, the fear of God in his eyes, and patted his empty pockets. No one said a word. 

His mother, now done with taking the picture, leaned over to give you a hug. She sent a death glare to Franco over your shoulder, but still gave him the time to sprint back to the locker room to try and find the goddamn thing. 

He ran faster than his F1 car could drive, cursing under his breath at how stupid he could be. He could still save this, though. 

He found his bag and shook out the contents, frantically searching, until finally, at the bottom of the bag, he saw the box. He must have stuck it there while changing and forgot about it.

He let out a breath with enough power to shake the entire building. He opened the box to get a quick glance just to make sure everything was okay.

Except, everything wasn’t. There was no ring in the box.

He had grabbed the empty necklace box. 

Knowing you were far enough away to not hear him, he sweared very, very loudly. Unbeknownst to Franco, his father had followed him back to the locker room.

“Did you find it, mijo?” 

“I brought the wrong box,” he said, “This is for the necklace.”

His father sighed. “Franco…”

“I know, I know.”

“We can still fix this. Give her the ring at dinner!”

“I guess I’ll have to,” Franco said. He had never been more disappointed in himself. He had ruined everything. 

“Hey,” his father said, “chin up. You’ve still got this. The ring will be the perfect end to the perfect day, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, still not entirely convinced. But you would be wondering where he went soon; he couldn’t stay and mope too long.

His father left him to go relay the information to the rest of the group. Franco took a few deep breaths as he changed, mentally readying himself to see you again. He put on a smile as he saw you waiting for him outside the track with the others. 

“So, we’ll all head back and get ready, then meet for dinner tonight?” his mother said.

“Sounds good,” Franco answered, wrapping his arm around you as he walked you back to the car. 

Thankfully, when you got back to his parent’s house, you immediately wanted to take a shower and wash your hair, giving him time to search the entire room. Which he did, from top to bottom, and he still couldn’t find the ring.

It was just…gone. He had gone through every compartment of his suitcase, every pocket in his clothes, every hiding space. Still, it was nowhere to be found. 

His parents even helped him look, carefully parsing through every possible place until it was too late. You were nearly ready for dinner, and they all had to rush to get ready to make it to the restaurant in time for the reservation. 

Franco texted the groupchat the horrible news—he had fucked up. He had lost the ring. There would be no proposal. 

Kind words flooded his phone, but they meant nothing to the depressed Argentine. He had planned this out so perfectly; how did it end so badly?

And the worst part? He couldn’t even tell you. 

The atmosphere at dinner was more somber than usual. His sister had bought a bottle of nice champagne that would now have to go unopened. He would just have to propose some other time.

That’s what he reminded himself, every time the thought came up and threatened to choke him. Maybe next time he would fly his family out to Spain instead. He wasn’t in any rush. And you’d never have to know how badly he fumbled. 

Well, while you didn’t know the details, you could tell something was up. You mentioned it to Franco on the way home.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, and Franco cringed internally. He was always bad about hiding his emotions. 

“No, I’m fine,” he answered. 

“Well, everyone at dinner just seemed…off.”

“Probably just tired.”

You just hummed to yourself, refusing to allow your thoughts to wander any further. You, too, were tired. When you got back to the house, you both started to get undressed, taking off your fancy heels and jewelry.

You took off your necklace—the beautiful gift that Franco had given you, that you’d now treasure forever—but the box wasn’t on the nightstand where you had left it yesterday.

“Franco, have you seen my necklace box?” you asked from the bedroom. He was in the bathroom washing his face, and only barely heard you over the running of water. The mention of the box just made the whole night worse.

“Yeah, it’s in my bag,” he said, and you raised an eyebrow. How had your necklace box ended up there?

You leaned down to his bag, rustling around until you found the familiar box, though it was heavier than you remembered. 

When you opened it, you were nearly blinded by the glint of a beautiful diamond engagement ring. 

It was familiar; the same ring you had fallen in love with years ago. And it was in Franco’s bag. He had…bought you an engagement ring.

He was going to propose.

You could feel your heart rate increasing by the second. But you weren’t ready. You had only talked about it a few weeks ago. You were scared. 

It was okay, though. It was okay. You would just put the ring back. You’d find a way to hint to him that it wasn’t the right time. You could just fake it. He’d never have to—

“YN?”

You looked up at Franco’s face, widened with shock. You didn’t respond.

“Where did you find that?”

“In your bag.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. 

“I—” Franco was too stunned to speak. You quickly closed the box and put it back in the bag.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see anything. This never happened,” you said, your voice rapidly talking without even thinking. You got up to leave the room, too anxious to stay seated, talking to yourself even after you were out of earshot of your lover.

Franco sat on the bed and sighed. Now he had majorly fucked up. First of all, how had no one found the ring in his bag, even after 3 people looked in there? And second of all, how did you find it?

But that wasn’t the biggest issue anymore. His plan had already been ruined, but he knew by the look on your face that your surprise was not a good one. He saw that fear that nestled itself into every crevice of your expression. 

You weren’t happy to find that ring. Not because it had ruined the surprise element—you just didn’t want him to propose.

He now had two options. He could do what he knew you’d want: act as if nothing ever happened and never broach the subject of marriage for several years to come, allowing you to shove away all those scary feelings until you’d deluded yourself into thinking you were over it. 

Or, he could do what he needed to do, and talk to you. 

He took a deep breath and followed you outside.

You were sitting on the back porch. Not crying, just quiet, looking out into the backyard. When Franco sat next to you, you didn’t say anything. He reached out to grab your hand, and you let him, softly admiring how he curled his thumb around your palm in soothing circles. 

“The plan,” he began, “was to ask you today. At the karting track. But I brought the wrong box.” He softly smiled at the absurdity of it. “When you were getting ready we were all frantically looking for it. I don’t know how we missed it.”

You just hummed in response, unsure of what to say. You needed to be honest. You needed to say the difficult things.

You began, though your voice felt choked. “Franco, if you would have asked me today, I would have said no.” You felt his hand tense up. “I mean, I would have said yes, because everyone was there. But…”

You trailed off, your words fleeing from you now. 

“I don’t understand,” Franco confessed. “We’re happy. You’re happy with me, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“Then why don’t you want to marry me?” His voice dripped with sadness, and all you wanted to do was hold him. You turned your head to face him, and the deep sorrow in his eyes nearly brought you to tears.

“I do want to. I just…”

“I’ve done everything I can to be good to you. I’ve tried to always be there. I know I’m not perfect, but—”

“It’s not you, Franco. It was never you.”

“Then why? What can I do?” His voice cracked, seeping with hopelessness and frustration. “If it’s not because of me, then what am I supposed to do?” 

You got up. “Come here,” you said, and led him to the living room. The home was quiet; his parents were asleep, and the vast emptiness of the home was eerie. 

You grabbed the photo album that your parents had given you, and sat down on the couch, motioning for Franco to sit next to you. 

You opened it to a picture of you at your 4th birthday party. In the photo, you grimaced though the uncomfortable sensation of a plastic party hat. “Do you see her?” you asked him. He nodded. 

“I remember feeling like this when I was that little. This…fear. I desperately wanted friends but was too afraid to talk to anyone.”

You flipped to the next page, pointing to a photo of you sitting alone in a park, a forced smile across your face. “What do you notice about this picture?” you asked him.

Franco leaned in closer to look. “I don’t know,” he said. 

“I’m alone. See all the other kids in the background?” 

You kept flipping until you found the first photo of you when Franco knew you. You were fifteen, smack in the middle of your awkward teenage years, in the stands at one of his races. 

“I remember that,” he said. 

“That’s me, spending time with my first real friend,” you said. “I didn’t know it yet, but I had a huge crush on him,” you joked.

“He was going to ask you to marry him today. And you just told him you would have said no.”  

“I know,” you said, trying to be gentle with your tone. “But what I’m trying to say is that you’re not just asking me. You’re asking her. And she feels so alone, and she’s scared to trust anyone.”

Franco sat with the thought for a moment, before getting up to grab his own photo book. He opened it to the first page, and pointed to a photo of him as a toddler, wrapped in a scarf, toothy grin spread wide. 

“And that’s who asked you.”

You felt a knot of emotion in your stomach break. All you wanted was to cry. 

“This goes both ways, YN,” Franco continued. “I understand that you’re scared. But I can’t fix that fear. Only you can.”

The dam broke, your tears flooding forth. He was right. So you told him.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you said, and he wrapped his arm around you, rubbing your back through the tears. 

“I’m not perfect either. I shouldn’t have rushed it, I was just excited.”

“Don’t apologize for being excited to propose,” you laughed through your tears. “I should probably go back to therapy.”

“If you think that’ll help,” he said.

“It will,” you sniffled. “I just… I’ve been so afraid that I’ve been ignoring all the signs. I should have seen this coming. You’re never that excited to let me beat you in karting.”

He smiled at your banter. You continued, “But really, you’re right. I’ve just been avoiding this because I’m scared, getting up in my head. I just feel so happy and that scares me, because at some point it has to fall apart, right? You’re never happy forever.”

“You’re not unhappy forever, either. Of course we’d have rough spots. But that’s the beauty of marriage,” he said, “you vow to be there for each other through it all.”

“How did I get so lucky to have you?” you asked, meeting his gaze. 

His eyes were full of compassion and love. “I’m the lucky one.” He leaned down to kiss you. 

You didn’t really believe him. You still didn’t understand how someone so perfect could love you, someone so…broken. But one day you would. You had to.

The next year was difficult. You began your healing journey again—a journey you were convinced you’d be on your entire life. But you’d do it for him, and for you. 

And slowly, bit by bit, the wounds began to heal. 

It wasn’t linear. With Franco’s new contract, he had lots of attention and responsibilities. He was away from home more. He was tired, stressed, more short-tempered. There were arguments. Some days it felt like you took one step forward and two steps back. 

But you made it through. For every argument there was an honest conversation. For every night away there was a sweet gesture or text message to remind you that he still loved you, and from it grew a solid, blooming trust. For every mistake—on both ends—there was an apology and a commitment to be better. For every night of tears, there was a night of laughter with the man you loved most in the world. 

And by the end of the season, you and the relationship were stronger than ever. 

Of course, things weren’t perfect. But the fear that had once held you hostage was an adversary you knew you could overcome. 

Franco kept the ring in his nightstand. You had found it again one day while cleaning. It wasn’t really hidden, as if to say, we’ll get to this later. It was no secret now.  You just put it back in its place and smiled, going on about your day. 

But Franco had been giving the proposal much thought. He decided against inviting anyone again, wanting it to be a tender moment of vulnerability between you and him.

No, he wanted this time to be simple. Honest. 

He just hoped you were ready. 

A few weeks before the beginning of the next season, he took you out to the place where all this had begun; the outlook in the countryside, where he first told you that he wanted to marry you.

This time, he double and triple checked to make sure the ring was there in his pocket. 

The sun was setting over the Spanish countryside, painting the sky rich shades of orange and yellow. The air had cooled with the impending coming of night. 

He opened your car door and set up a blanket on the ground, where you sat and he laid his head in your lap, letting your fingers run through his hair as a way to calm his nerves. 

He took a deep breath as he sat up, and you knew what was coming. Again, he had rehearsed a speech, but almost instantly forgot it the second he opened his mouth. 

“YN,” he began, looking you directly in the eyes, “I… I love you. So much. More than words can say.” He was nervous, swallowing before he continued, letting his eyes wander off to the picturesque view. But he had more important things to be looking at. 

“I can’t imagine a version of my life without you in it. I grew up with you. I want to grow old with you. You’ve made me into the best version of myself. We’ve gone through so many things and come out on the other side so much stronger. And I want this,” he said, reaching out to wipe away the happy tears that now flowed down your cheeks. “I want to be with you. Even though we’re both imperfect, even though we both have our problems to work through, YN, I want to do this with you, forever. I want to fall asleep next to you and wake up next to you. I want to have children and grandchildren with you. I…” he trailed off, not knowing how to finally say what he really wanted to say.

You smiled through the tears. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring, flipping it open and showing it to you. 

“Marry me,” he whispered. 

Your smile widened. “Yes,” you answered. “Yes.” 

He kissed you with a fervent passion. When he pulled away, his smile couldn’t be contained.

“She said yes!” he cried out, though you both were alone. “I did it! She said yes!” You laughed at his antics.

In a few weeks, you’d have the official photo shoot where he got down on one knee. You’d show the world the carefully constructed version that was all they got to see.

But this was real. And maybe it was imperfect; maybe he hadn’t really asked, more instructed, and maybe he hadn’t gotten down on one knee, and maybe, yes, you had found the ring beforehand. 

But this was real. In all the ups and downs, the hurt and healing, this love you shared with your now fiance was real. The world didn’t get to see that. 

And maybe that fear was still within you. It was smaller now. And when you had seen that shine of the ring, maybe you had felt it rise within you again. But you knew now that it was just a feeling, something you could control. You didn’t have to ignore it or let it reign you. It was just there. 

It wasn't real though. And this was. The cold metal of the ring slid onto your finger. The feeling of Franco’s lips on yours. The strain in your face muscles from all the smiling. His hand around your waist, pulling you closer as the sun dipped below the sky, leaving you and your lover alone in the dark—yes, this was real. 

And this was yours; he was yours.

For the first time in a long time, you knew you had nothing to fear. 

[lacedinweb22]

high ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ blurb - Miguel O'hara x fem!reader

nsfw 18+

You look up at him as he hovers over you as you, sitting with your legs crossed on his couch.

“Ladies first,” he smirks, up to no good.

“Such a gentleman.”

He gently places the joint in between your lips, then lifts the lighter to its tip, lighting it, eyes on yours as you look up at him. Seductive. 

You inhale, “Good girl,” he mutters lowly, observing the way your lips are wrapped around the joint, between his fingers.

You release it, exhaling.

He sits down beside you, then does the same thing, pretty natural. You watch him intently.

He takes a long drag then offers it in front of your lips, you lean forward and catch it, copying the duration of his drag. 

He hums then you exhale.

“That’s enough for now,” he mutters, putting it out. 

His hands rest on your calves, then somehow find their way to your feet. 

Sore from heels, his touch feels orgasmic. 

His hands are so big, so strong, resulting in next level massages. 

“God,” you exhale, hands covering your eyes.

Fuck, you’re feeling it. You’re heavy, sleepy, drunk, feeling all sorts of intoxicated, in the best way possible. 

“Feels so good,” you say, practically a moan. 

“‘m high, Mig. I feel so warm,” you say in a whine, stretching, somehow climbing on top of him, now straddling him. 

He exhales, helping you settle on him. His hands rest on your thighs. He sighs.

You look down at him. His eyes are red, he’s so clearly high, and his pupils are dilated—it’s a look that makes you feel heavier than you already feel. 

His strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you tightly against him.

“Baby,” he whispers.

“Hm,” you kiss his neck. 

“You’re high… high and drunk. Maybe we should callit anight,” he suggests, like he’s not also intoxicated.

“mm Mig don’t leave me high and dry,” you whisper into his neck. 

You drag his hand lazily to the heat between your thighs. 

His fingers massage the ache as your own hand feels him through his sweatpants.

“Can’t do it by myself,” you whisper, finding your hips rolling into his. He welcomes it, hands moving to grip your hips, pushing and pulling you as you grind through silky panties onto his clothed erection, desperate for friction. 

It’s clear you share the same desires.

Everything is more intense, in slow motion, the ache in your stomach is deeper, feels so good, so different.

“Fuck, y/n,” he moans into your neck, hands tightly gripping your ass. 

He looks up at you with red, drowsy eyes, needy, completely at your mercy. 

“Just want you to feel g-good. All I want, baby,” he exhales, eyes on yours. 

You throw your head back, tugging his hair, “Fuck—feel so good, Mig. Keep— like that,” you whine.

He keeps up. You feel it approaching, squeezing him tighter, lips clashing with his. 

You kiss messily, high and desperate, cheeks red in the dark.

“Need more, need to feel you,” you moan, lips parted against his as you breathe heavily. 

“Too fucking bad,” he exhales, breathing against your lips. 

“Mm I don’t want to finish around… nothing. Your fingers, you, please, just need—”

“Don’t get greedy, princesa. This is enough for now,” he whispers, brushing your hair out of your face. 

“hate you.”

He smirks up at you, fangs on display.

“Starting over, baby, remember? We gotta start slow.”

“Slow,” you whisper back.

“Mhm,” he hums, keeping the rhythm. 

You keep moving, slowly, deep full motions, so intense you can imagine how he feels, how deep he’d fit inside.

He imagines your velvet walls, how tight you’d feel around him, the way he’d hit right where you need him, right where only he could reach—he just wants to make you feel good. 

But you’re “starting over,” so for now, this’ll do—it’s more than enough, really.  

Opening his eyes for just a second pushes him to the edge: the way your eyebrows are knit together, the way your thighs are spread across his lap, the way your lips are parted by a whimper, parted by the way you moan his name. 

“Y/n, you’re gonna makeme—fuck, baby—” he groans, lips at your jaw, eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“Mig,” 

You both finish, your walls fluttering around nothing, and the inside of his boxers facing the consequence.

You kiss passionately, slow, then when you part, he whispers that he’s gotta clean up. You relight the joint and take a lengthy drag, it's only the beginning of a long night.

｡･:*:･

[ahhnini]

going home with sevika after a couple of drinks

warnings - alcohol consumption, men and minors dni, fingering, semi-public sex (only for a little bit), tribbing, not proofread!

a/n - lit rally based off a dream i had about sevika a couple nights back, also!! slowly getting better at smut?? i think??

her gray eyes enchanted you. the softness of them; they pulled you right in. however, no amount of liquor was gonna get you confident enough to approach her. she was intimidating, and you just had to get lucky enough to get her to notice you.

you were lost in thought when you see someone’s glass slam down on the counter. following, you heard a soft grunt and the squeaking of the stool. you turn around, seeing the woman who’s occupied your mind ever since you sat down.

she brought out a lighter, igniting her cigar and taking a deep huff. you took a glance at how her thick fingers held it, noticing some scarring throughout her hand. you cough from the smoke, the small distance between you two had the strong cigar smell blowing in your face. she seems to have noticed, slightly swiveling away.

“not from here, hm?” she spoke up, her deep voice hypnotizing you. you shake your head, taking a sip of your martini, “is it that obvious?” she lets out a hum, before making eye contact with you for the first time. “you’re not used to the air down here, you’re coughing up a storm.” your lips form an ‘o’ shape as you look down, staring at your reflection in the drink. she continues, “anyone from here…I can blow smoke in their face and they wouldn’t even blink.”

you nod, meekly speaking up to reply to her, “is that why you approached me?” she nods, full body towards you now, leaning on the counter with her mechanical arm. “yeah. don’t get a lot of ‘topsiders’ here…for obvious reasons. what made you come here? piltover too boring for you, now?” you softly chuckle, “yeah, needed a change of scenery.” “change of scenery, huh?” she echos, calling over the bartender to refill her glass. “anywhere in the world,” she pauses, swirling her glass of neat whiskey, “and you chose to come here?” you shrug, shoving your martini aside and pivoting your body towards hers. “just had a feeling about this place. that i’d meet someone special.”

that’s how you ended up feverishly going down the labarynth of alleyways with her, her lips making their way down your neck. your hands make their way up to the back of her head, gently pulling her away so you could kiss her lips. she grumbled, pulling her lips away from yours. your back hits a cold stone wall, her body completely shielding you from any potential onlookers.

her hands trace the silhouette of your body, all the way down to your hips. she pulls the bottom of your dress up, exposing your soaked underwear. her mechanical hand grips your inner thigh, keeping your legs apart, while her other hand rubs up and down your clothed slit.

your breathing becomes labored, “I don’t…I don’t even know your name,” you rasp, trying your hardest to not moan loudly. “sevika.” she mumbles, eyes concentrated on what her hands were doing. “you okay with this?” you nod before replying, “yes.”

you gasp as she rips apart your underwear, the cold exposure making you shiver. you glance around to see if anyone’s looking, and you feel the warmness of sevika’s fingers squeeze your face to look at her. “no one’s here, just you and me,” a soft smile grazes her face, “unless of course, you want more privacy.” you moan as you feel her insert one of her thick fingers inside you, beginning to stretch you out. “need words, baby.” “y-yes…need more…” you hear sevika chuckle, feeling an emptiness come over your body as she pulls her fingers out.

it happens fast; she wraps an arm around your waist and drags you down more alleys, your flushed expression telling everything to the strangers of the undercity.

she laid you down on her bed, surprisingly plush mattress making you feel like a princess. as sevika straddled your lap, she took off the tank top, taking off under undergarments shortly after. her bedroom was dark; and you could clearly see the cracks that illuminated her face. your hands frame her face, hands slowly moving down her muscular body to touch her breasts, lightly squeezing them. she stifled a groan, shoving your hands away and pinning them down to your sides.

“sevika..” you spoke weakly as she spreads your knees apart, using two fingers to rub your clit. you arch your back at the sensation, her mechanical hand pushing your stomach down.

you watch her as she spreads your legs further up, knees touching your chest, mewling as you feel her clit on yours. she moves her body, creating friction between the two of you. she feels warm, inviting.

“you said you wanted more, didn’t you?” you swallow, nodding. she grumbles, lowly groaning as she quickens her pace with you. you run your nails down her scarred back, while her lips find your neck, leaving dark marks.

“fuck, you feel amazing,” she whispers in your ear. “look at that, your legs are trembling, gonna cum soon, baby?” you whine, and sevika chuckles.

“go right ahead, ‘m right here beautiful.” your legs wrap around her waist as you come undone beneath her, hair tousled and body sweaty.

tagging @nemesyaaa bc we loveeee sevika 😻😻

[toxicanonymity]

The Wall (stepdad drabble)

1.5k | stepdad!Joel x f!reader | stepdad au SUMMARY: This ask about being at the pool. WARNINGS: I8+ drugs, possessive!joel, sexual tension, baiting, shotgunning, dirty talk, very risky touching in public, blue balls, hair pulling, mild manhandling & degradation, use of "daddy" x2 A/N: Title is an album by Pink Floyd. Loose fit flashback before the holidays (old school SD). The latest present day is ✨It's Hard.

Joel hasn’t given in yet. So far, he’s fingered you in his office, but nothing more than that. Now both of you are going with your Mom on a work trip.  The trip is in driving distance, and Joel doesn’t realize you’re going until you show up at their house packed and ready to go that morning. He’s flustered, and overall none too pleased. You’re wearing him down. You can tell.  

You’re wearing a hoodie and short shorts. When you stop at a rest stop, your Mom goes to the bathroom and you and Joel get out of the car to stretch. You take your hoodie off, revealing a thin, low-cut tank top and no bra, then stretch with your hands behind your back. Joel tilts his head, watching you, eyes glued to your chest. 

He takes a deep breath and doesn’t even bother looking up at your face as he complains, “Havin’ fun with all this?”

“What are you talking about?” you smile. 

He scoffs. “You’re gonna be a pain in my ass all week, aren’t ya?” 

You cross your arms under your boobs, pushing them together. 

He adjusts himself and shakes his head. 

—

During your Mom’s first work event, Joel disappears. He walks off somewhere to get away from you and remove temptation. Meanwhile, there’s a group of skater guys at the hotel. Probably college students, a little younger than you. You find them in the lobby and they smell like weed. They offer you some and you tell them maybe later, but out of boredom you stick around with them and go to the hotel bar. While you’re there, they flirt with you and give you a joint. 

Joel gets back to the hotel and finds you in the bar with these guys all hitting on you. He can’t stand it. When he walks up, the scowl on his face delights you and offsets his festive Hawaiian shirt. 

“Let’s go,” he commands, nodding toward the exit. 

“Daddy,” you complain. His jaw clenches and his face blotches pink. Something comes over his eyes, and you can’t tell if the word has turned him on or just pissed him off. He steps forward and pushes through two of the guys. He grabs your arm, physically pulling you toward the exit. It makes you flutter between the legs. His grip doesn't loosen until you cross the lobby.

“What was that about?” he asks as he walks you down the hall, “Hmm?”

“What was what about?”

“You tryin’ to get gang banged, or what?” he grumbles. 

“You trying to turn me on?” you ask. “It’s working.” 

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath. 

When you’re close to the hotel room, your mom rounds the corner and you look at him to watch his face fall. 

“I’m going to the pool,” you announce, turning around to head the other direction. 

—---

It’s just after dusk and you’re in a pool chair scrolling your phone when Joel comes out. You’re wearing a bikini top and daisy dukes. You put your phone down and check him out. He’s in red swim trunks that are a little shorter than standard, and a gray shirt with a black line drawing on it. He takes off the shirt. 

“Okay, Hasselhoff,” you tease, checking out how his meaty thighs stretch the bright red shorts. “His suit was longer though.”

You pull out the joint and a lighter. 

“Hey,” he cautions nervously, looking around. “That better not be what it looks like.” 

You light it and he huffs. 

“I know you do it too,” you tell him. 

“You’re full of it,” he says. 

“Am I? You keep your stash in the drawer with my panties you stole.” 

That shuts him up. Wow, lucky guess. He’s silently flustered, and it turns you on. You take the joint with you and slip into the pool, feeling his eyes on you even as you’re turned the opposite direction. 

“Gettin’ in, Daddy?” you ask as you put your arms on the ledge and rest your chin on your hand. 

He warns, “Don’t fuckin’ call me that.” You laugh and he doubles down. “Don’t.” Sounds like you actually pissed him off. He takes his glasses off, then adjusts himself before he stands up, and it makes you tingle. You look around the deck as he gets into the pool. It’s just a few couples, and they’re wrapped up in each other. 

You’re both facing the wall of the pool with your arms on the ledge, faces turned toward each other. He’s to your left. You try to hand him the joint and he shakes his head no. 

“Worried we’ll get grounded?” you ask and he just barely smirks. “That’d be fun,” you add saucily.

“You are real fuckin’ trouble,” he murmurs, slow and loaded. It almost sounds like he’s daring you. You reach your foot over to brush the inside of his ankle, and he doesn’t scold you or pull away. 

He looks at the joint in your hand. You take a chance and bring it to his mouth. He briefly meets your eyes as he takes a puff and you can’t suppress your smile. Your eyes must have gone wide with joy. As he holds the smoke in his mouth, he looks like he's trying not to laugh, then it fades. His eyes fall to your mouth, then your bodies turn toward each other and he gets a little closer. His hand grazes your waist. You lean in, a few inches from his face. He leans ever so slightly toward you as he releases the smoke. Your mouths come closer and closer as you suck the smoke from his mouth. Your lips almost brush, and he abruptly pulls away as he finishes exhaling. “Fuck,” he mutters, then clears his throat. 

You close your eyes as you finish inhaling, and when you open them, he’s watching you, brow furrowed. It's silent for a few seconds and you hear the tiki bar closing up.  

You bring the arch of your foot back to his ankle and he lets you rub it. You're still facing each other. You come a little higher on his calf.  “If I didn’t know any better I'd think you almost kissed me,” you say. 

“No,” he chuckles. “You know better.”

“You wanted to,” you note. 

“‘Course I–” he stops himself and swallows. He lowers his voice. “--that’s not what I wanna do to ya.” 

“Yeah?” Your foot works up to his knee. 

He shakes his head. “I wanna stuff your mouth full’a cock like it should be.” 

“Mm,” you encourage.

“Shut you up for a few minutes while I fuck your face.” 

Your eyes drift to his pecs. 

“That’s not what ya want though, is it?” he asks. 

“It’s a good start,” you whisper, sliding your foot up to mid thigh. 

“You’re dyin’ to have your cunt stuffed.” 

You bite your lip and play coy. You take another drag of the joint but he declines. He palms himself under the water and your chest flutters. Your nipples get hard, and you feel yourself gushing. 

“I know how wet you are right now,” he says. 

“Feel for yourself,” you whisper. 

He reaches for your crotch but you pull back at the last second, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him. He shakes his head, plucks the joint out of your fingers and takes a short drag. He puts it down, and as he inhales the smoke in his mouth, he gets so close you can reach down and feel the thick silhouette in his shorts. When you squeeze his cock, it makes you twitch. You need him so bad. He pulls your hair, tilting your head so you’re looking up. His face hovers over yours for a moment with smoke slowly billowing out of his mouth. Then he blows it away to the side and lets go of your hair. 

“Oughta bend you over and fuck the brat outta you.” 

“Yeah,” you whisper and give his cock another squeeze against his thigh. “Maybe later?” You take your hand away and say, “I’m gonna order something to eat.” 

“Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he mutters. 

“I have an extra room key,” you offer as you push yourself out of the pool. It’s an empty offer, mostly. The rooms connect. Too risky. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Fuck no.” He’s slowly palming himself under the water, and you’re glad you brought a vibrator, because as soon as you get back to your room, you have some things to think about. Like the exact size and shape of his cock under your palm. 

“s’just talk, sweetheart.” He looks at your tits as you adjust your suit. “You know I’m not really gonna fuck you, right?” he asks, still slowly rubbing himself. 

“Keep telling yourself that,” you smile, hoping it’s not true. 

-----

-----

Thank you so much for reading and engaging 🖤 Love you guys. I still have another stepdad one shot planned back in present day, too.

These are normally night walks moves, so maybe check out the original night walks if you like this. In my header.

[l0vergirlv0mit]

hey girl, can you write abby or ellie teaching reader (who's never been in a relationship) how to cuddle? I feel like it would be so cute ☹️

a/n: Hey girly!! YESS ofc I love comfort🤭🤭🤭 I wrote for Ellie cause I haven’t yet. Sorry this is short!

warnings/contents: weed, fluff, cuddling.

“Are you gonna come sit down or what?” Ellie giggles and waves you over. She’s propped up on your bed with her rolling tray in her lap. You tentatively go to sit next to her watching as she focuses on rolling the perfect joint.

She looks over at you while licking the edge of paper. “Come closer hon, you know I don’t bite.” She hummed out placing the tray on your night stand, she nudging her head to the side bidding you over. “You wanna take the first hit? I’ll light it for you babe.” You nod and Ellie’s pulling you into her side placing the joint between your lips.

“Ya ready?” She says holding the lighter up. Her lips pulling into a small smile.

“Mhm.” You replied holding the joint between your fingers. Ellie goes to light it and you take a shallow inhale in to keep from coughing. It’s no use as you cough uncontrollably anyway. Ellie chuckles quietly, carefully taking the joint from your fingers raising her brows. “Amateur.” She teases you taking a long drag. Her lips wrapping around the joint with a faint smirk. You hit her shoulder lightly in faux annoyance.

You take the joint again right before it hits her lips for a second hit and move away from her to the other side of the bed. She gasps at you before her face falls into disappointment. Her green eyes wearing a look of concern. “How come you keep sitting so far away from me? You don’t wanna cuddle?”

You blow smoke into the room hoping the weed would soon calm your nerves as you look away nervously. “I-I don’t know.” You shrug. Ellie exhales a quick laugh at your response. “You don’t know? What do you mean you don’t know?” She’s furrowing her brows at you confused but the corners of her mouth perk up with slight amusement. Taking the joint from your hand taking a final puff then ashing it for later.

You start to get nervous feeling a bit stupid at your inability to be affectionate. “I-I don’t know, I mean I’ve never done…that.” You look away again at the last word. Ellie moves closer to you instead just filling the space herself. “You mean you’ve never had someone cuddle you before?” She questioned with an astounded look on her face.

“No…” You were fully embarrassed the weed honestly only heightened your feelings. “Awww you poor thing!” Ellie watches with droopy red eye as you pull you lip between your teeth and can’t help but giggle. Playfully pulling you into her arms. “Your cute, how about I teach you babe hmm?” Her fingers running through your hair.

You nod timidly. Her arms around you felt good she soothed that anxiousness inside of you. Ellie goes to lay down in the bed lifting the covers up. She was staying the night dressed in her boxers and an oversized tshirt. “Come on.” She beckons you to lay beside her and you obliged. “Ok now what?” You felt silly honestly giggling quietly waiting for more instructions.

“Put your head on my chest.” Her command made you confused so you laid only your head on her chest not knowing what to do with the rest of yourself. Ellie let a laugh slip and you shoot her a glare. “I’m sorry I’m sorry! Ok now like put your leg between mine. Kinda lay on top of me.” You listen to her and she grabs your arm herself making you hug her abdomen.

The position immediately has you sinking into her. The feeling of Ellie’s chest raising and falling with her breathes grounding you. Ellie’s hand comes to rest on your back for a moment before scratching lightly up and down. “Comfy?” She asks and you’ve already closed eyes settling into her affection. Your cheek squished up against her. “Mhm…” You reply tiredly the soft sounds of the television nearly lulling you to sleep.

You look up at Ellie and she greets you with a soft caring smiling in return. Your hand finds its way under her tshirt pulling her even closer and closing your eyes. Her soft skin helping you into a dreamlike state. Ellie swears her heart stoped beating for a second. Pouting like how you would when you see a really cute puppy. Ellie’s attention is split between you and the tv as she mindlessly plays with your hair. After a couple minutes she hears soft snoring. She pushes hair out of your face and behind your ear to get a better look at you.

She’s smiling to herself when she realizes you’ve fallen asleep. She turns off the tv and carefully adjust herself so she holding you in her arms. She leaves one final kiss on your forehead. Letting out a deep sigh. She closes her eyes and falls asleep in the comfort of your intangled body’s.

[littlelamy]

reader gets a hair cut and surprises Rafe it doesn’t matter how short

a/n: thank you so much for sending a request! i hope you like it💕🐑

you had been thinking about cutting your hair for a while, but never found the perfect moment to go through with it. today, though? today felt right. you'd texted rafe that you had a surprise for him, but you kept the details vague—knowing full well that the suspense would drive him crazy.

after leaving the salon, you feel lighter, the fresh chop adding an extra bounce to your step. you keep your new look hidden under a baseball cap as you make your way to tannyhill. rafe’s already there, leaning against the front of his truck, scrolling through his phone when you pull up.

he looks up and grins as soon as he sees you, eyes bright with curiosity. "took you long enough," he says, slipping his phone into his back pocket. "what’s this big surprise?"

“patience, cameron,” you tease, walking up to him slowly, still keeping your cap low. "you’ll see in a second."

his eyes narrow suspiciously, though there’s a smirk playing on his lips. “you didn’t get another tattoo, did you?”

you laugh, shaking your head. "nope. better."

"better?" he repeats, now fully intrigued. he steps closer, fingers brushing your waist like he can’t resist. “what’s better than a tattoo?”

“i guess you’ll just have to wait and find out.” you take a step back, flashing him a mischievous grin. “but you might want to brace yourself.”

"oh, come on." rafe groans, running a hand through his hair as he narrows his gaze on you. “just show me already. you’re killing me here.”

"alright, alright, needy much?" you say with a teasing smile, slowly reaching up to pull off your cap. you shake your head slightly, letting your freshly cut hair fall into place.

rafe’s jaw drops. his eyes go wide as he stares at you, taking in the new look. the silence stretches for a second longer than you expected, and suddenly you’re a bit self-conscious. maybe it was a mistake to cut it so short?

“well?” you ask, trying to hide your nerves behind a playful tone. "what do you think?"

he’s still staring, eyes locked on you like he’s trying to process the change. then, finally, a slow, appreciative smile spreads across his face. "damn."

"damn, what?" you ask, your heart beating a little faster now under his intense gaze.

"damn, you look hot." his voice is low, and there’s something new in his eyes—something heated. he steps closer, his hand sliding around your waist, pulling you in. "you look… different. in a good way."

you smirk, feeling your confidence return as you look up at him. "so, you like it?"

“like it?” he leans in, his lips brushing just below your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “i love it. didn’t know you could get any hotter, but here we are.”

you laugh, rolling your eyes as you push lightly against his chest. "you’re so full of it."

“nah, i’m serious,” he murmurs, his fingers trailing through your hair, playing with the ends. “it suits you. makes you look even more badass.”

"badass, huh?" you tilt your head, giving him a knowing look. “so you’re saying i didn’t look badass before?”

"you always look good," he says with a grin, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. “but now? now you look like trouble.”

"and what exactly does that mean?" you ask, biting your lip to hide your smile.

“it means,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours now, “i’m probably gonna have to keep an even closer eye on you. don’t want anyone else noticing how good you look.”

“oh, is that what you’re worried about?” you tease, leaning into him, your hands resting on his chest. “i think you’ll survive.”

“hmm. we’ll see.” his voice drops lower, his thumb brushing along your jaw as he stares down at you, eyes dark with that familiar fire. “but seriously, baby… you look incredible.”

"you’re just saying that because you know i like hearing it," you tease, though you can feel the heat creeping up your neck at his words.

“maybe.” he grins, leaning down to kiss you softly, his lips lingering on yours for just a moment before he pulls back. “but i mean it.”

you laugh softly, leaning into his chest. "good. i was starting to think you didn’t notice."

"notice?" rafe laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. "babe, i noticed the second you stepped out of that car. trust me."

you smile, feeling the warmth of his arms around you as he pulls you closer, his fingers still toying with your freshly cut hair. "so… does this mean i’m allowed to surprise you more often?"

"hell yeah." he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "but you gotta promise me one thing."

"what’s that?" you ask, looking up at him.

"don’t cut it too short. i still need something to grab onto when you’re driving me crazy.”

you roll your eyes, smacking his chest playfully. "oh, please. like that’s ever stopped you."

he grins down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "fair point."

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[xxgoldie]

Congratulations for your 100 followers!

May I request for Lighter (zzz)? As for the alphabets, it's A, J, M, N, and Y!

I hope it's not too much, anywho, once again, congratulations! Hope you have a great day/night <3

thank u sm! ofc lighter nation pulls up first hehehe

main event page - event masterlist

A: Admiration - what's something they admire in a partner? Lighter really appreciates someone patient and caring. Partially this is because its something he really needs; while he's not massively secretive about his past, it takes him a while to truly open up about the details and the way it still affects him, plus he kind of forgets to take proper care of himself, since he's used to viewing himself as a means to other people's ends. But its also because so much of his life has been about violence, so he really admires a shift from that, and feels extra in love whenever he sees that gentle care in you, even if it's not directed to him.

J: Jealousy - do they get jealous easily? what are they like when they're jealous? Lighter is pretty secure in your relationship, so he's not gonna get jealous of your friends, and as long as no one's making you uncomfortable, he's not even particularly fussed if someone else asks you out, just keeping a protective eye on you while you reject them in case they take it badly and he has to step in. THAT BEING SAID, he does get possessive if someone tries to flirt with you, especially if they're subtle enough about it that you don't really notice. Directly shooting their shot is one thing, he can respect that, but those flirty little compliments and lingering touches are encroaching a bit too far on his territory. Suddenly he's glued to your side and his hand seems permanently attached to your waist, if the person doesn't know who he is (or doesn't seem to care), he'll drop it into conversation or take his jacket off so they see his scarred, muscled arms, making eye contact with a look that just screams "i dare you to try". Also, he may not get jealous of people, but he's lowkey the type to get jealous of like. pets and plushies. sees you cuddling your plushies or petting a cat and his thought process is just "aww cute. i wish that were me tbh. wait we're dating, that should be me." and he's well aware its a bit of a silly thought to have so he tries to play it off but the way he glares at whatever's taking up your affection is so obvious. He'll pretend he doesn't know what you're talking about if you tease him about it, so long as it works and he ends up in your arms with your hand threading through his hair.

M: Melt - what can you do to fluster them and make them melt? I've had this headcanon for a while that Lighter likes to tease you a lot so you don't get the chance to try to fluster him first, because it's honestly a little crazy how easy it is. Any sort of heartfelt compliment has him losing his words for moment, particularly if you tell him you feel safe around him. But if you want to see him properly flustered and embarrassed, you just have to be unapologetic and bold about your attraction to him. If he catches you staring, he will tease you about it, but just double down on it (e.g. "enjoying the view?" "oh, absolutely", or "take a picture, it'll last longer" "amazing idea actually" and genuinely pulling out your phone) and you have the upper hand in an instant, his ears go red and he tries to think of something smart to say back but he's short-circuiting a little. Poor guy absolutely cannot take what he dishes out.

N: Nicknames - what nicknames / petnames do they have for their S/O? what are their favourite nicknames for you to call them? He likes most variations of babe/baby, tho he uses baby most often. Also likes to use compliments as nicknames, lots of "hey gorgeous" and "pretty girl / pretty boy". When it comes to what you call him, he particularly likes if you call him "love" or some variation of it, like "my love" or "lover". Also, calling him "my champion" with a pout is like a fast-track ticket to him doing whatever you want.

Y: Yearning - how easily do they miss their s/o? what are they like when you're away? He's the kind of guy to always have his partner on his mind, little things just make him think of you. He's always taking photos of cute animals or pretty sunsets or other things he sees to send to you, and when he runs errands in the city he'll come back with lots of little trinkets and treats for you - he doesn't even actively look for them, it's just second instinct for him to think "oh they'd like this" and pick it up. However, I think it takes a bit longer than most for him to really miss you to the point it's a problem. Like, sure, he would always love to see you even more often, but he gets that sometimes life gets in the way and its quite often his gang duties that are keeping you apart, so it takes a little more for it to start genuinely affecting him. When it does, though, he's basically checking his phone for any messages from you - it's not just that he thinks of you in everything, he's actively looking for random reasons to text you. He'll be extra fierce in fights, trying to wrap everything up asap so he can get back to you. But if the gap really can't be shortened, he instinctively starts bringing you up in every conversation. Your name on his tongue helps fill the void a tiny bit, but it's lowkey just "ow, i hurt my hand!" "(Y/N) has hands..."

[sjywrites]

༊*·˚ Prada & Versace (dropped)

: ̗̀➛ 𝓢ugar 𝓓addy!𝓛ee 𝓗eeseung x 𝓕!reader. 𝓖enre smut, fluff, age gap, s2l. 𝓢ypnosis where reader is a broke and single college student celebrating her best friends birthday, and at said party she meets someone who might solve more than just one of her problems. 𝓦𝓒 estimated 5-10k. 𝓒𝓦 age gap, oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), pet names (good girl, baby, slut in an affectionate way!), mentions of alcohol, both hee and reader smokes, reader is a bit intoxicated but still fully aware of what she’s doing.

𝓝ote this is a sneak-peak of the actual story, this is the first story I’ve ever posted on tumblr so if you see anything that I can improve, please let me know. I want the first story I post to be good enough for me to be motivated to keep writing!

This is purely fiction and is not meant to interpret how the idols act in real life!

,, not proofread + english is not my first language ! ೃ⁀➷

Edit: this fic will be dropped, I've lost full motivation for it and it doesn't really fit what I want to write in the future. Sorry.

Flashing lights, loud music and the smell of sweaty bodies. That’s what most clubs look like, and this one was no different.

It was Ryujins 19th birthday, and she wanted to celebrate it with just her closest friends and her girlfriend. That’s why Y/N agreed to it in the first place. She’s not used to social settings and spends most of her time stressing over finals, so being forced into a social setting wasn't making her any less stressed. Her and Ryujin are the complete opposite of each other and she can’t really remember how they became best friends, but somehow they did. And that’s why she’s in this position right now, pressed between strangers in a club that reeked of alcohol, dressed in a skimpy black dress that barely covered her up.

“Hey Y/N, get me another drink will ya’!” Ryujin shouted and laughed, fully intoxicated. “I don’t really think that’s a good idea Ryu” I said, a little worried about her condition “you’ve had a lot already” I tell her, hoping she would just give up “It’s fineee, I’m fineee, trust!” She laughed and grabbed another beer. I tried to stop her but she was too fast. I just gave up and sighed, trying to reason with her when she’s drunk is like trying to argue with a wall “You’re gonna throw up later I’ll tell you that.” I grabbed my lighter and walked outside for a smoke, leaving her to Yeji, her girlfriend. I love Ryujin, but sometimes she can be a handful to look after.

I walk out on the balcony, leaning against the rack and admire the glowing night sky, letting the cold wind run over my body. It’s a relaxing moment until I hear someone approaching and I assume it’s either Ryujin or Yeji, until they lean against the rack beside me. Build too big to be either of them, I look over in their direction. A tall, hot guy with glasses stands there. He lights a cigarette and looks over to me. I forgot how to breathe for a moment, embarrassed, I looked away slightly. When I look back to see if he’s still there, we make eye contact. He’s close enough that I can feel the heat roaming around him. And I can't tell if it’s the embarrassment or the close contact with the man that makes my cheeks heat up, but I’d rather not find out.

I take a look at the man in front of me, scanning him up and down. Dressed in a suit too fine to be worn at a basic club, hair styled in a way that makes it look almost untouched, and his eyes, his eyes were so easy to get lost in. I snap out of it when I realize I’d been staring for a while, a slight smirk on the man's lips as he leans down to my level.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer”

✩ ♬ ₊.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N please let me know if you want me to finish it! Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated ♡ (Also someone please teach me how to make my posts aesthetic I've never posted on Tumblr before so I don't know how it works 😔)

[ilwonuu]

emergency

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ song mingi

༘⋆ pairing- established relationship, nonidol!mingi x fem!reader, softishdom!mingi x sub!reader

༘⋆ synopsis- you and your boyfriend have the best idea of what to do for 4/20.

༘⋆ warnings- high sex, riding, reader & mingi smoke a blunt, dirty talk, kissing, pet names, lazy sex, lmk what else<3

༘⋆ a/n- HAPPY 4/20 MLS 🍃 i wrote this while high lmfaoo i’m about to smoke some more and read fics (the best things ever) i hope everyone has a good day/night<3 also i hit 800 FOLLOWERS!!! THANK YOU THANK YOU. many fics soon<3 also this is my first time writing for mingi,,,

high sex with your boyfriend was your favorite tyle of sex. smoking a joint before crawling into bed with him. that’s exactly what you did tonight!! it’s 4/20 so of course you’re gonna smoke and having loving sex with your boyfriend. he happily agreed. you were seated on your boyfriends lap as you make out sloppily. his grip on your hips his tight as he lets out soft whines.

“can you ride me baby?” he breathes out into the kisses. “yea- i’m tired tho.” you say in between kisses as he smiles pulling away. “don’t worry i’ll help you.” you get off his lap and turn to see him sliding back against the headboard. you step out of your underwear being left in just your boyfriends t-shirt. you crawl onto the bed as you help him out of his boxers.

he grabs the lighter and the ash tray grabbing the have smoked joint in it. “let’s smoke some more? it’ll feel so good.” he smiles at you lighting the joint. “marry me.” you smile at him as you were gonna suggest the same thing. he pats his lap as he moves the ash tray to the side. he takes a hit of the joint as you get comfortable in his lap.

he passes the joint to you with a smile as his hands rest on your hips. you keep eye contact with him as you take a couple hits passing it back to him. he smiles taking it from you. he takes a couple more hips before putting it back into the ash tray, moving it back to the side table.

“come here- i need you.” he laughs pulling you closer to him. you are already tangled up in his arms, sitting in his lap. you raise your hips a little lining up his dick with your entrance. you slowly sink down as you pull him into a kiss. he whines into the kiss as you start to move your hips.

“you feel- ugh so good.” he sighs deeply as he helps you move your hips. you nod along with his words as grip his shoulders for support. “i missed you- love being this close.” you cry out. you moans are desperate and breathy. he groans at your sounds as he fucks his hips up slowly. “m-mingi- oh-“ you moan out loudly as your hands grip tighter against his shoulders.

“i love- y-you so much.” you cry out as you come undone. his moans turning more whiny and breathy as you ride through your high clenching around him. “shit- i love you more.” he kisses your neck. his low voice making you clench around him again. that’s all he needed to come inside you with a loud whine.

“just- just like that baby.” he throws his head back as you rock your hips to help him ride out his high. you kiss his lips with a smile as you pull off him. “want to smoke some more angel?”

[sunghoonswhore]

Lee Heeseung (wax play + rope bondage)

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE: smut

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni.

A/N: hi lolol I'm new to the *smut* community but I've been in the writing scene for like 4 years now so if this piece is just shit don't hesitate to comment or send in an ask 😭 I hope this isn't that big of a disappointment lmao have a good read!!

Heeseung is usually a sucker for a good head anywhere and anytime as long as it’s you, as long as he gets to feel your mouth taking him deep, as long as he can feel you choke on his cock.

But when you’re at home? When he has access to all his “equipments” as you both like to call it in public? Best believe you’re gonna have bruises on your wrists the next morning. He works his way through your shirt and skimpy little shorts in no time and as soon as you’re rid of your clothes, his hands reach out for the rope and your hands and legs are tied to the adjacent bedposts.

He looks at you with a smug face, knowing all well what he has in mind. Foreplay with him goes crazy with the way his fingers slowly and steadily trace every curve of your body, leaving a fire in their wake. And when he finally lands at your core, his eyes flicker once to take a glance at your face that, as he expected, is moulded in pleasure and desperation.

And his fingers slowly find your folds, “already this wet for me and I haven’t even started with you yet? Tsk tsk tsk.” his fingers collecting the slick and smudging it on the bundle of nerves that he is oh so familiar with. “Please…” You huff out, your breath raggedy with how much you needed him. And as soon as he does that there’s a string of little moans slipping out from your mouth, with his fingers circling your clit endlessly and his mouth that works it’s way on your whole body, kissing and sucking on every sweet spot of yours that he basically has memorised now. 

And he finally gets his hands on the wax candle on the side table, lighting it up in an instant with his lighter, your breath hitches at the sight of him, whimpers being heard as he slowly hovers the candle over your belly, the wax melting on to it. When it finally touches your skin, a jolt travels through your body with goosebumps arising on your skin, as your body instinctively tries to scrunch up but having your limbs in restraints fails to do so. He enjoys watching you crumble in front of his eyes, at his mercy, the obscene view sending direct jolts to his pants. 

He leaves a trail of red wax all over your body, watching you squirm and let out a string of pleases and moans from the arousal that you experienced, being at his mercy, the wax that’s dropped on your skin, burning lightly for just a second before it solidifies again, scaling on your skin while you keep trying to free yourself from the rope that binds you to the bed. 

The candle now being held over your inner thighs which Heeseung keeps pried open with his other hand, “Where do you want me baby?” He asks as you recover from the recent dripping of wax on your inner thighs, so close yet so far from where you painfully need him right now. “Hee-” a broken moan chokes out of your throat when you feel the wax dangerously close to your cunt. “Speak.” He affirms and you whimper at the burning sensation that quickly subsides. 

“Want you in me- ugh-” you choke on your voice when he urgently presses a finger down on your clit, your body reacting immediately to his touch. The candle gets yanked to the floor immediately with his fingers focusing on stimulating your clit as you writhe in pleasure. Your mouth forms an O-shape when he slides in one finger, your wetness acting as a lube for him “You’re practically sucking me in” 

A condescending smirk is at his lips as he mocks your expression, adding in one, and then two more fingers, stretching you out good as you gasp, trying to pull your hands to yourself but only feeling the rope digging into your wrist the more you tug on it. And his fingers increase a pace when he sees you trying to pull your hands, knowing that you must be close, his thumb now rubbing electrifying circles on your clit, doubling the pleasure you were previously feeling. You could feel the coil tighten in your stomach, aching to just break. “You can do it baby, just a bit more”

Your fists bunched up whatever fabric of the bed sheet they could while Heeseung was focused on the way your body, your pussy reacted to his touch, he loved having control over you, watching you writhe beneath him, coming undone just from his fingers. And soon you felt that coil snap as your vision whitened with pleasure, “Ahh Heeseung- Ohhh no more” you said while riding out your high, your legs trying to free themself from the ropes but you couldn’t close them, while Heeseung’s fingers worked relentlessly, not stopping for even a moment as he felt you cum around his fingers, white now coated his fingers which were plunging in and out of your cunt and pushing your cum back into you, toppling you over the edge as you begged him to stop, gasping and spasming from continuous stimulation that Heeseung was attacking you with. 

“You’re gonna take this and be grateful-” he added a fourth finger, “-that you even got to cum” he curled his fingers upwards, knowingly hitting your sweet spot inside, whitening your vision as your eyes were screwed shut from the intense pleasure. Within no time, you felt your orgasm build up again, legs shaking “Ahh- I’m cumming oh god ohhh” you announced as his fingers took up their pace, continuously hitting that bundle of nerves inside you thrusted down onto his fingers, your body shaking from the second wave of orgasm that hit you like a truck. 

He helped you ride out your high, his fingers slowing down ultimately as he looked up at your fucked out expression as he pulled his fingers back from your core and took them in his mouth, tasting you around his fingers. You were catching your breath while looking up at the ceiling. “Tired already?” He asked as he crawled up now on top of you, an evil grin on his face, eyes on your face that had beads of sweat sliding down the side. One of his hands caressed your cheek when he brought his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath on your lips “You can do a few more, right?”

[marvelsgirl616]

[✎ ☀️] — STONER!JJ MAYBANK X READER:

bsfstoner!jj x reader ::

•• summary: you try weed with jj for the first time and it gets a little steamy (jk?….ok you kiss)

•• warnings: weed/drugs (obv.) he calls you princess. So maybe gn…idk (Lmk if I should add more warnings)

•• A/N: if you want more of stoner!jj or for me to add to the fic lmk <3 Ty for reading || also I wrote this at 3 am so sorry for any shitty grammar 😭

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

**you’re hanging out with jj at The Chateau**

jj pulls out a small blunt from his pocket and lights it up with a lighter he flicks with his thumb. he takes a puff before exhaling a cloud of smoke and turning his attention back to you, blowing some towards your direction playfully. "you want some, princess?”

you contemplate on if you want to our not…I mean it’s your first time smoking at all, let alone a blunt. But you feel safe knowing it’s jj’s and that he’d never do anything to hurt you or put you in harms way. You know he’ll keep you safe as the weed kicks in…you nod and take the blunt from him “I’m gonna try it” you smile nervously and in anticipation.

he grins widely at your response before handing you the blunt and watching as you take it from him. "alright, princess. don't inhale too deeply or you'll choke." he warns, his arm still around your shoulder.

he watches as you inhale the blunt for the first time, waiting for your reaction with a slight chuckle, "Fuck, that's some good shit. Hope you can handle it, princess." he praises.

You cough slightly as my throat feels a bit dry.

he laughs at your reaction, patting you on the back as you cough. "Easy there, princess. Don't want you to keel over." he teases, still smiling as he takes the blunt back from you and takes a few more hits before passing it back. "You okay?"

You nod as your throat feels a bit better, but after a bit you start to feel the weed kick in.

he watches with a grin as he sees the weed affecting you, "Fuck, look at you. You look high as fuck already, princess." he teases, placing a hand on your cheek.

You chuckle slightly and it slowly turns into a full blown giggle…oh no….

he grins at your reaction, watching as you continue to giggle. "You're so cute when you're stoned."

You giggle more as the weed takes into full effect. In a giggle you say “M’not cute!”

he laughs more at your attempt to sound tough, and he holds his stomach as he laughs. "Keep telling yourself that, princess. You're still cute to me." He takes another hit of the blunt before passing it back to you..

You blush at his words and giggle softly as you take the blunt from him, taking another puff.

he notices your blush and smiles wider. "You like hearing me call you cute, princess?" He asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

with the weed in my system all you do is smile and giggle stupidly and shrug…god you know that if you weren’t high as a god damn kite, you’d be a complete mess. You feel a certain comfort with being high, as it helps smooth your nerves and makes you more confident than you normally are….

he laughs again, shaking his head. "You're something else, princess." He takes the blunt from you and leans in closer to you. he takes a puff of the blunt and then leans in closer to you, blowing the smoke into your face deliberately. He grins at you, his eyes slightly glazed from the weed. "You like that, princess?" He asks, his voice low.

Your brain stops working, with the mixture of the weed, his close proximity and his stupid fucking hot low voice and all you do is yet again stare back with glazed over eyes and a small blush….

he notices your lack of response and grins again. "You're so cute when you're stoned, princess." He leans even closer to you, his lips almost touching yours. "Do you want me to kiss you, princess?"

You feel your heartbeat quicken and your breath hitches in your throat. Everything around you slows down as if the world has stopped around us. As he looks in your eyes all you can think about is him…

he sees the look in your eyes and smirks, closing the distance between the both of you. He presses his lips against yours, his kiss slow and sensual. He can taste the weed on your lips as he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth. He pulls away with a smirk “how was that, princess?”

Stunned you mutter out “y-yeah, it was good” your face red and hot with a small flustered smile. He smirks and winks at you… “I’m glad you liked it princess”