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gothcsz · 2 months ago

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Summary: Another chaotic shoot... but at least it's in Malibu?

Tags: more plot keeps sneaking into the porn, angst, frankie has entered the villa, jealous!javi, reader stands on business, it's a porn set other people are also fucking, masturbation on camera (m), dirty talk, lots of cursing (f bombs my beloved), an attempt at a blowjob, javier can't get it up, a dash of misogyny, author projects her ooc thoughts about problematic age gaps in the porn industry, no use of y/n, reader has a degree in film production, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: me nervous that part 3 isn't going to live up to the hype? more likely than you think! 🙂‍↕️ this fic is taking on a brain of its own and i'm just along for the ride, baby! for my just the tip stans— i'm sorry but i'm going to have to edge you until part 4 *crowd boos and i'm dragged off stage* i was going to wait to post this, but i really wanted to get it out because i'm so damn proud of it lowkey, lol, so i hope you all like it 🖤 let a bitch know what ya think! also, shoutout to my pookie @persephone-girl for reading over this 💋 love u mamas

Your phone’s shrill ring pierces through the haze of sleep, and you groan in frustration, burying your face deeper into the pillow.

The comforter is pulled tight over your head, shielding you from the annoyingly bright sunlight filtering through your window. Your hand shoots out, fumbling blindly across the bedside table until your fingers finally close around the receiver.

“What?” you grumble, voice thick with sleep and muffled beneath your sheets.

“There she is! My beautiful, talented camerawoman. Have I ever told you how much I appreciate what you do?” Robbie’s overly cheerful voice blares through the phone, so you pull it back from your ear slightly, wincing.

“Why are you calling me this early in the morning?” you snap, already regretting picking up.

“Early? It’s almost noon—”

“What do you want, Robbie?” You cut him off, not in the mood for small talk, especially since last night’s bar shift ran past four in the morning. You were hoping to sleep through most of the day, recovering in your bed with no interruptions. Clearly, that plan has gone out the window.

“Look, I’ve got a big shoot happening in Malibu today and I’m short-staffed. I could really use your magic touch behind the camera.”

“No.”

“C’mon,” he drags the word out, “I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for working on your day off.”

You rub your eyes, the remnants of sleep still clinging to you. “How much?”

He tosses out a number, and despite your best effort to remain indifferent, your eyes widen. Damn. That’s more than decent money.

“Malibu’s all the way across town,” you point out, “I won’t make it there in time if I take the bus. And a taxi? That’ll cost me a fortune.”

“Don’t worry about that. Your ride’s outside waiting for you.”

You blink, confused, and get out of bed, dragging the corded phone with you as you move toward the bay window. You pull the curtain back just enough to peer down at the busy street below.

Sure enough, Steve is there, leaning casually against his Jeep with sunglasses on, a cigarette between his lips. The second he spots you looking down, he grins like the cheshire cat and waves.

“Seriously?” you mutter to Robbie, flipping Steve off with a half-hearted smile. “And what if I’d said no?”

“We both know you wouldn’t have.”

After a few more quick exchanges, you hang up, glancing once more at your ride through the window before turning to rush and get yourself ready for the day ahead.

Truth be told, you’re still not fully awake, your body moving on autopilot as you shuffle through your morning (midday) routine.

It’s been ages since you’ve been to the beach— especially one as nice as Malibu’s. The thought of it softens the blow of losing your rest day. You tell yourself you’ll make the best of it, turning this unexpected workday into something that benefits you, too.

After shooting wraps, you’ll indulge in a quiet evening by the shore, sinking your toes into the warm sand with a good book in hand. No rush to head back. This time, you’ll gladly take a taxi if it means getting some peace seaside.

With that plan in mind, you dress for the day accordingly. Your halter-style bathing suit doubles as a cute top, the color complimenting your skin, while your favorite denim shorts sit comfortably over your bikini bottoms.

You pack a few essentials into your beach bag and make sure to grab your camera bag as well. Once you’ve double-checked that everything’s packed, you make your way downstairs, feeling a bit more awake now.

Steve catches sight of you approaching and flashes a dramatic grin, straightening up like he’s about to chauffeur royalty.

“Your chariot awaits,” he announces with an exaggerated flourish, swinging the passenger door open.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the bemused laugh that escapes your lips. “God, you’re ridiculous,” you mutter, shaking your head as you climb into the seat, tossing your beach bag onto the floor.

He shuts the door behind you with a smirk. “Ridiculous? I prefer charmingly dedicated to my craft.” He hops into the driver’s side, flicking the cigarette away before starting the car.

You snort at his self-satisfaction, leaning back against the seat and putting on the seatbelt.

“Malibu, huh? How the fuck did he manage to swing that?”

He chuckles, one hand lazily draped over the wheel, the other tapping out a rhythm on his knee. “He didn’t tell me much either— just asked me to stop by and pick you up on my way.”

That makes sense. Robbie’s always been a bit scatterbrained, occasionally running around like he’s managing a multi-million-dollar empire when, in reality, he’s holding it together with duct tape and half-assed enthusiasm.

The drive is surprisingly fun, Steve’s constant jokes keeping your spirits high. He always manages to make you laugh, which is why you tolerate his quirks.

“I’m pretty sure Javi’s going to be there,” he says, almost too nonchalantly, meaning he’s in the mood to be messy.

You keep your gaze focused on the coastline, watching as palm trees blur past. The wind from the open windows has you squinting momentarily, but it can’t cool the sudden heat spreading through your body.

“It’s not going to be weird seeing him, right?” He presses and you finally turn to face him, moving your sunglasses to the top of your head.

“Why would it be weird?” you ask, the challenge clear in your voice.

He shoots you a look, brows raised and lips quirked in that irritating way of his. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe ‘cause of the whole flirtin’ with you during the middle of a scene thing? Or, y’know, the elevator incident… which, by the way, what the fuck even happened there?” He glances at you, curiosity practically oozing out of him.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, but you can’t stop the way your thighs rub together at the memory.

Javier’s mouth... God. “None of your damn business.”

“Don’t tell me you fucked him.”

You laugh, loudly, the sound bordering on forced. “Absolutely not.”

He shoots you that okay, sure look, and you groan internally.

Steve’s like a dog with a bone when he gets curious, and you know he’s not going to let this go until you give him something. You sigh, deciding to indulge him— partially.

“He was being an asshole,” you start, and he immediately interjects with, “Nothing new there,” causing both of you to share a laugh at Javier’s expense.

You shake your head, returning your sunglasses to the bridge of your nose. “No, seriously. He was pushing my buttons, being his usual peacock self. I don’t even know how it escalated, but one moment we’re arguing, and the next... he’s got his tongue in my pussy.”

Steve chokes on his own spit at your bluntness. He’s heard and seen much worse on set, yet your confession has him all tripped up.

“So, you did fuck him?”

You roll your eyes again, shifting in your seat as the horny flashbacks hit you all at once— Javier’s lips wrapped around your clit, the perfect rhythm of his tongue, his fingers.

You shove those thoughts away, focusing on the road ahead, annoyed at both Javier and Steve now. “Getting head isn’t fucking. It’s, like, third base. And anyway, I made it clear— that’s all he was getting from me. I’m not about to waste my time rolling around in bed with him.”

He gives you a look— a knowing look— and you scoff, shaking your head. “What now?”

“Nothing. You’re just the first person I’ve heard say that about him.”

“Someone’s gotta humble his ass,” you mutter, though the words feel heavier than they should. You try to act like you’ve put Javier out of your mind, like that moment was nothing but a blip in your life, but deep down, you know it’s not that simple.

You’ve never met anyone like him, and the fact that he can elicit such reactions from you pisses you off so bad.

As the coastline stretches out in front of you, Malibu drawing closer with every mile, you can’t help but wonder if seeing Javier today will be as easy as you’re pretending it will be.

The mansion is far more extravagant than anything you could have imagined. Its grand facade, with towering columns and ivy crawling up the sides, feels like something out of a movie set, and for a second, you almost forget why you’re here.

But then, as soon as you step past the threshold, you hear it— echoing from deep within the house are the unmistakable sounds of exaggerated moans, grunts, and the rhythmic thump of bodies meeting.

You adjust the strap of your camera bag on your shoulder, your beach bag abandoned in Steve’s car. As you step further into the foyer, Robbie appears, that infamous smirk plastered on his face.

“Long way from home, aren’t you, Dorothy?” he jokes, taking in your wide-eyed amusement as you scan the expensive decor— the towering glass chandelier overhead, the marble floors gleaming beneath your feet, the floor-to-ceiling windows.

You can’t help but be a little impressed.

But of course, he’s there to give you shit about it. You turn your wide-eyed gaze into a glare, bringing your attention to him. “So funny. You should quit your current sleazy day job and take up another sleazy one— stand up,” you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He just grins, unbothered by your sharp tone. “You’re always a joy to work with. No wonder Javi asked for you specifically.”

Your entire demeanor shifts viscerally and you curse yourself for it mentally, caught completely off guard. “Wait, what? Javier asked for me?”

He shrugs, indifferent to your confusion. “Yeah. He’s set for a solo shoot upstairs in one of the bathrooms before he’s on with...” He snaps his fingers, trying to remember. “...Mariella. Real pretty girl, it’s her first on-camera gig today.”

The world blurs a little as your mind zeroes in on that one bit of information: Javier asked for you. And not just for any shoot— a solo one. You blink, shaking your head to clear the fog. “I’m sorry, can we go back to the part where I was summoned here by someone who isn’t my boss?”

“Oh yeah, he made a real fuss about it. Sent away the other guy we had lined up for the shoot. Told me he wouldn’t do it unless you were behind the camera. Even offered to pay out of his own pocket just to get you here. It’s the only reason we’re paying you as much as I promised over the phone.”

Your stomach twists and you can feel your face settling into a deep frown, the kind that pulls some of your mood down with it. So that’s why he dangled such a big paycheck in front of you this morning.

After the elevator incident (as Steve has so eloquently named it), after the intense heat of his mouth on you, the way he had you— he said he’d leave you alone. He was supposed to respect the boundaries you set, but here he is, yanking you back into his orbit.

You can already picture him upstairs, lounging in one of those stupidly lavish bathrooms, probably smirking that damn smirk of his, waiting for you.

You try to squash down the way your pulse quickens at the thought, the lingering memory of his fingers digging into your hips, his tongue working between your thighs, is beckoning you into temptation again.

“Fucking great,” you mutter, more to yourself than your boss. You have half a mind to storm up those stairs, find the pornstar, and give him a piece of your mind before marching right back out to spend your day on the beach— free of drama and distractions and him.

But the reality is, you’re being paid nearly three times what you’d normally make on a gig like this. It’s enough to drown out the temptation to walk away, however satisfying that would be.

You’re an adult. You’ve dealt with worse. You can handle this.

Robbie gives you a sidelong glance, clearly sensing your hesitation. “You’re not backing out, are you?”

With a sigh, you force a smile and shake your head. “As good as it’d feel to leave, no, I’m not. I’ll be up in a sec.”

Relief flashes across his face, and he gives you a few pointers before rushing off into this maze of a house.

You linger for a second longer, taking a deep breath to shake off the nerves. Come on. Get it together. After a final mental pep talk, you head toward the grand staircase that winds up to the second floor.

The sight that greets you at the top of the stairs stops you in your tracks: Lexxie is splayed out on her back atop some console table, currently getting the life fucked out of her. The visual is chaotic but nothing new. You’ve seen it a hundred times before.

A guy with a scruffy beard and a beat-up baseball cap stands behind the camera, looking more bored than impressed, barely watching as the two stars go at it.

You lean against the nearby railing, your voice cutting through their heavy breaths and grunts. “Guess your marriage to Javier didn’t last very long,” you tease from off camera, referencing the honeymoon shoot.

The star’s eyes snap open at the sound of your voice, and she flashes you a playful, almost sweet smile in between heavy breaths. “Kinda regretting stepping out on him—oh, fuck.” Her snappy comeback dissolves into a breathy moan as the guy currently rearranging her on the table pushes her legs up to her chest, hitting just the right spot.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your shot,” you say, throwing a glance at the cameraman, knowing how annoying it can be when someone messes with your focus.

He waves it off with a lazy shrug. “It’s not ruined. Honestly, I would’ve quit filming ten minutes ago. It’s starting to drag. I’m impressed they’re still going.”

You let out a small laugh, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, they’ve got stamina like you wouldn’t believe. Makes me feel lazy in bed sometimes, but then I remember how unrealistic this shit actually is.”

He chuckles, scratching at his jaw. “Should make it an Olympic sport. Bet we’d bring home gold.”

“Pretty sure that already exists and it happens in the Olympic Village.” You smirk, finally peeling your eyes away from the couple to look at him properly.

He’s cute in that disheveled, stray-dog kind of way. His curls poke out from under a worn baseball cap, his beard patchy, and his clothes rumpled, like he just rolled out of bed and threw on the first thing he could find. He fits in perfectly with the kind of guys you’d expect on a porn crew.

Earning a genuine laugh from him, he extends a hand. “I’m Frankie.”

You shake it, offering your name in return. “I’m also part of the crew. About to go shoot a scene in the master bathroom.” You explain, noticing how his grip lingers just a little, his smile playful and easy. You feel a bit of warmth rush to your cheeks, and he’s about to say something when—

“Oh fuck, I’m about to cum!” Lexxie’s voice is piercing, loud and breathless, pulling your attention back to the scene.

You shake your head, stifling a laugh. “Well, that’s my cue,” you mutter, stepping out before you get too caught up flirting with him.

“Nice meeting you,” he says before dismounting the camera, moving in closer to capture the so-called money shot.

Cute. Too cute. It’s almost enough to make you forget about the man you’re about to see.

You push open the door to the room Javier’s in, and the sight of him has you doing a double take.

He’s standing in the middle of the room with nothing but a white towel hanging dangerously low on his hips, his defined Adonis belt drawing your eyes in a way you hate to admit.

His toned, brown torso glistens with the thinnest layer of sweat, the sunlight pouring into the room making him look like he’s glowing.

You need to toughen up, and in order to do so, you have to bitch at him. It’s the only way to keep that lustful cavewoman instinct away.

“You’re a piece of work,” is what you settle on, making sure to let your tone really punctuate how annoyed you are by the stunt he pulled today.

The second his eyes lock onto yours, amusement flickers behind them, as if he’s been waiting for this confrontation.

He quirks a brow, lips curving into a lazy smile. “¿De que hablas nena—?”

“What happened to ‘if you don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave you alone’? Was that something you said just to lower my guard? To get me to give you what you want?” You cut him off, keeping your distance even as you notice him inching closer.

Your eyes are daggers as they bore into him, and for a brief second, you hope he feels at least some of the fire burning in your chest. But if he’s affected, he doesn’t show it. He is frustratingly calm, like he’s above it all.

“You gave me no indication that you didn’t want me anymore.” His voice is casual, almost patronizing.

You groan as you throw your hands up in exasperation. “I literally said, ‘Hope you got your fix because it’s never happening again.’ What the fuck else do I have to say or do to get you off my back?”

Silence settles between you two as you stand there staring each other down. He’s unreadable, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin tingle.

“Well?” you demand, impatient.

“In my defense— it didn’t sound very convincing.” You stare at him incredulously before turning on your heel. Hell no. He can keep his money and his bullshit. You’re not doing this.

But just as your fingers graze the doorknob, his voice sharpens with a hint of panic, calling your name.

“Wait, look,” he starts, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not trying to start anything. I just thought—” he pauses, searching for the right words. “I’d feel more comfortable if you were behind the camera during this shoot. Not the other guy Robbie brought in.”

Frankie? He seems so harmless, and besides, Javier’s never had an issue with whoever’s in the room when he’s filming, so why is it a problem now?

However, his tone does sound sincere. You turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes and refusing to let your guard down. “This better not be another one of your tricks, Javier. If you’re doing this to try and get into my pants—”

He almost grins, but catches himself just in time, clearly biting back a remark. You can see it in the way his mouth twitches, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. Already have, his brown eyes seem to say. But he holds his tongue, offering a faint nod instead.

“I promise. No tricks. Just a professional shoot. That’s it.”

You give him one last warning glance before sighing. “Fine. But I’m telling you, Javier—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupts, holding up his hands. “I get it and please stop calling me Javier.”

You arch a brow. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but everyone calls me Javi.”

Ugh, whatever. “Okay, fine, Javi. Just show me where I’m supposed to set up.”

He bites back another grin and motions you with a flick of his head, and with the weird tension simmering, you follow him toward the ensuite bathroom. The door creaks open, revealing an elaborate setup, and you pause in the doorway, eyes widening.

It’s surprisingly... beautiful.

In front of a massive window that overlooks the sprawling blue ocean outside, there’s a porcelain clawfoot bathtub filled with what looks like a milk bath. Various colored flower petals float delicately on the surface, scattered in an almost artful arrangement.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Well, damn. This actually looks nice.” This bathroom is bigger than your entire apartment.

Javier notices your reaction and leans against the doorframe to the connecting walk in closet, arms crossed over his bare chest, a smirk playing on his lips. “Catering to the female gaze,” he says with a cocky shrug, “At least, that’s what my agent told me. Seems like I’m very popular among the ladies.”

The way he says it makes you want to smack him upside the head. He’s pushing your buttons again in the most subtle way, and you hate how good he is at it.

“Cute,” you reply dryly, walking past him to set your camera bag down on the large counter.

As you begin to unpack and set up, you can feel his eyes on you, watching your every move, lingering on the exposed skin of your back then dripping down to your legs.

It kind of feels good to have him ogling you like this. The whole look but don’t touch thing is really doing it for you, more than you’d care to admit. There’s a certain power in keeping him wanting, yet also forcing the distance.

“It’s not just about the ladies, you know. I actually want this to be good. I trust you to make it look that way.”

You glance over at him. His playful arrogance has slightly faded, shaded in by the genuine want to make this feel more than just some raunchy scene.

“I’m not a director, I just film it,” you remind him, adjusting the camera lens as you try to play it off. “So just do whatever you think is right. Robbie gave me some pointers, but it wasn’t much.”

“Still,” he presses, “there’s some finesse to what you do.”

At least he’s aware of that. “Let’s just get this over with,” you say, deflecting the compliment.

You finish setting up the camera, adjusting the tripod to get the perfect angle. It’s important to capture the full picturesque scene to begin with— the soft light spilling in through the window, the sparkling blue ocean in the background.

You clear your throat, “Okay, I’m all set for whenever you’re ready.”

Javier moves casually as he unwraps the white towel from around his waist. His cock, already half-hard, demands your attention, but you force yourself to look away. You rub your lips together then lick at them unconsciously, trying to focus on anything other than his naked body.

“Got plans after this?” he asks as though he’s asking you about the weather.

You blink at the normalcy of the question “Just going to hang out by the beach,” you reply plainly, trying to keep your focus on the camera and not on his crotch.

It almost feels strange talking to him like this, without the usual teasing or sexual tension-laden bickering.

“Sounds fun,” he says as he steps into the tub, the water sloshing around him. “Real nice out here. The weather is perfect for it today.”

You watch as he settles in, the milky water rising around his body, and for a moment, you’re completely mesmerized.

The scene in front of you looks like something out of a romantic painting, and it hits you how undeniably beautiful he looks. His skin, a warm golden brown, contrasts perfectly with the creamy white of the bath, and the colorful flower petals floating on the surface make the whole thing look like a dream.

He leans back, the water just kissing his chest, and you catch yourself imagining what a soft, hazy vignette filter would do to the shot, how it would add an enchanting glow to an already intimate scene.

You shake your head slightly, snapping yourself out of the reverie. You’re supposed to be filming him jerking off, not admiring the aesthetics like this is some fine art shoot. But fuck, it’s hard to separate the two when the visuals are this damn good.

Javier, of course, senses your brief distraction. He watches you, eyes thoughtful as he stretches out, letting the water ripple around him. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a slight smirk playing on his lips, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You take a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand, despite the heat pooling between your thighs. “Is there a clear direction for this scene, or are you just improvising?”

“I’m just winging it,” his voice is a rich, velvet drawl, a little rough from all the smoking he does. “No dirty talk. They want my natural noises to be the main focus… amongst other things.” He cocks his head to the side, one arm coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

Heat blooms low in your belly, shooting straight to your cunt at the sight. The way his bicep flexes, the muscles shifting smoothly beneath that taut, sun-kissed skin, showcasing just how defined he is while still looking so maddeningly soft.

Calm down, girl, you silently reprimand your pussy. She’s fucking purring right now.

You clear your throat and give him a nod, signaling him to begin. Stepping behind the camera, you focus through the lens, grateful for the distance.

Javier moves slowly. His head tips back against the edge of the tub, eyes falling closed, the soft curve of his lashes fanning out like shadows against his skin. One hand trails down, lingering at the hollow of his collarbones. The movements are unhurried, almost reverent, as though he’s savoring the feel of his own skin.

The intimate build-up draws you in, despite your best efforts to remain detached.

You unmount the camera from its tripod after a few moments, stepping closer to him, framing the shot tight around his chest, the slow glide of his hand along his torso. You can’t help but notice the pounding of your heart, each beat mirroring the steady, throbbing pulse at your clit.

The sight of him— relaxed, fully in his element, bathed in the soft glow of light— stirs that fucking feeling deep within you.

It’s not just desire, though that’s certainly there. It’s the maddening awareness of how sensual, how magnetic this man is. And even though you try to tell yourself you’d feel the same about any other attractive man in his place, you know that’d be a damn lie.

Javier’s hand moves lower, ghosting over the ridges of his soft stomach. His other hand trails slowly through the water, sending gentle ripples through the milky bath. You swallow hard and focus the lens on his face— the slight parting of his pouty pink lips beneath his trimmed mustache that you just now realize has a small patch right above his cupid’s bow.

Even his imperfections are attractive.

The flushed skin of his cock makes an appearance, his thick, swollen head breaking the surface of the water with each subtle movement, teasing you and the camera. The way it peeks through, the slick tip glistening in the milky bath, almost feels like a taunt— winking at you.

Doing as you’re supposed to, you adjust the lens to zoom in on the way his cock flirts with the surface.

If you were anyone else, one of his usual co-stars maybe, you’d lean down and give it a few kitten licks. You’d tease the sensitive crown with your tongue, circling the tip before letting it slide past your lips— just enough to drive him wild.

Your tongue twitches at the thought.

A soft groan escapes his lips as he gets closer to where he’s aching to touch. It’s as if he can read your mind, as if he knows you’re imagining the feel of his cock in your mouth, the taste of his salty skin, the way he’d twitch against your tongue as you tease him until he begs for more.

Maybe he’s picturing your lips wrapped around him, too.

You bite down on your lower lip, forcing yourself to stay quiet, to stay focused, even though your body is betraying you. The mess in your panties, the way your nipples stiffen beneath your bathing suit top— everything about this moment is dangerous.

Then finally, his fist wraps around his cock, a soft slosh of water accompanying the motion. The eroticism of the scene— paired with the proximity, the memory of those hands on you— ignites that annoying need deep inside.

He strokes himself slowly, eyes still closed as though lost in the pleasure of it all. You focus the camera on his hand, on the way it moves with purpose, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock, slick with precum.

His groans start to fill the air, and your own body reacts, hips shifting slightly as you try to ignore pressure at your cunt.

“Still with me?” His voice cuts through the silence, raspy and knowing, eyes fluttering open to look at you.

Oh. Have they always been this golden?

“Yeah,” you’re proud of yourself for keeping your voice steady.

Javier’s body is pure, unfiltered sin in motion. As you move around the bathtub to capture every angle, you can’t help but admire him. His muscles shift with every slow pump of his hand, the sinewy lines of his arms and torso rippling just beneath the milky water.

His stomach contracts with each exhale, drawing your gaze lower to the faint trail of hair leading down to his cock, which you catch glimpses of when his hips buck up inadvertently.

His breathing grows heavier, his pouty bottom lip caught between his teeth, brows furrowing in concentration as his pleasure builds. It’s mesmerizing, the way his face contorts, his expressions almost too intimate, too personal for the lens. But you can’t tear your eyes— or the camera— away.

His fist moves with such confidence, touching himself with an unhurried rhythm that only a man used to his own pleasure can manage. Every time his thumb glides over the tip of his cock, a heavier grunt rumbles in his throat and it’s so hot.

You’re too focused on capturing every inch of him that it almost catches you off guard when he begins to speak.

“Wish it was your pretty hand around me right now, baby.” His voice is husky, laced with want, and the words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You blink rapidly, heart stalling in your chest as the camera wavers slightly in your hands. “Javier,” you sigh, his name slipping from your lips before you can stop yourself.

“Fuck, I know, but shit—” His words are more ragged now, spoken between heavy breaths. “You’re all I can think about still. You stay in my mind, muñeca. Can’t get you out.”

Even though every rational part of you knows you should stop him, should leave or at least say something to shut him up, you don’t.

You don’t run, you don’t protest. You just... let it happen.

“Talk to me, please.”

“I-I—” The words get stuck in your throat, “I can’t. I’ll ruin the shoot.” Why is that your priority right now?

“You won’t.”

The way he says it chips at the walls you've built around yourself.

“What do I even say?”

“Anything,” there he goes again, using that tone that makes him sound like he’s begging.

So, you say what you’ve been thinking of since he got into this damn tub. “Your cock is so pretty, Javi.” You purr, throwing all caution to the wind, lying to yourself that this means nothing.

The effect is immediate. He groans, a deep sound from his chest, and his hand moves faster over his shaft, the slickness of the water amplifying the movement. “Fuck,” he says, his breathing now erratic, “say it again.”

Your gaze flicks down and it’s mesmerizing watching the way his body responds to his own touch, but it’s the fact that he’s unraveling in front of you that leaves your mouth dry.

“Such a pretty cock, Javi,” you repeat, voice steadier this time, growing bolder with each passing second. Every flex and contraction of his body feeds the arousal pulsing in you. “I bet it would feel perfect sliding down my throat, hitting the back of it until I’m choking on you.”

All those hours spent listening to cheesy porn dialogue are finally paying off.

His head falls back, exposing the strong column of his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. A guttural groan escapes him as the image of what you just said sets in. His other hand moves down to cup his heavy, swollen balls, the water around him rocking more violently now as he starts to lose himself in the fantasy.

“Shit… I’m close,” he growls, voice breaking with need, the words barely coherent. “Keep talking to me, fuck…”

You lean in slightly, the camera momentarily forgotten. “You want to come for me?” Your whisper is dripping with lust, the idea of him falling apart because of you making your pussy ache. “You want to make a mess? Pretend I’m kneeling right here, my mouth open and waiting for you to fill it, warm and wet just for you?”

You’ve seen him come so many times, watched him fill too many cunts with his spend and paint different parts of their pretty bodies— but none of it compares to the sight before you.

The way his body jerks in response tells you everything you need to know. His grip tightens on the edge of the tub, knuckles going white as he pumps faster, rougher, pushing himself toward the brink. His hips start lifting out of the water with every thrust into his own hand, chasing that final release.

“Fuck, yes…,” he groans, voice strangled, barely holding it together. His eyes squeeze shut, every muscle in his body tensing, going rigid as he falls over the edge.

His bilingual expletives cut off into a long, drawn-out moan as his cock twitches, thick ropes of cum spilling out in messy spurts, splattering against his fist, swirling into the milky bathwater. The petals float lazily across the surface, some clinging to his skin, as the evidence of his release drifts around him.

You stand there, heart pounding, frozen as your brain tries to catch up with your pussy.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, fumbling with the camera as you stop the recording. You quickly move to pack everything up and try your damndest not to look at him.

“Wait, don’t—” Javier’s voice is still hoarse, but there’s a touch of urgency to it now, breaking through the post-orgasm haze. You hear the water sloshing violently behind you as he moves, and you know he’s getting out of the tub. “Just… hang on.”

“No. I-I gotta go,” you stammer, your hands frantically packing up the camera, the lens cap slipping through your fingers. You try to grab it, but your nerves are shot and it fumbles. Thankfully, it doesn’t take damage. You’d hate to hear Robbie bitch at you for breaking the brand-new camera.

Just get out of here is the only thought running through your mind. Every time you’re around him lately, you end up a confused, horny, exasperated mess, and you can’t handle it anymore.

“Hey—wait!” Javier slips as he tries to step out of the tub, nearly falling as he reaches for you, his wet feet squeaking against the floor. You turn just in time to see him catch himself, water dripping from his body, his skin still flushed from what just happened.

“What the hell?” You shoot him a look, “You’re gonna break your neck trying to stop me from leaving—”

“I wasn’t—fuck, just let me talk for a second.” He runs a hand through his soaked hair, water dripping down his neck, over the curve of his shoulders, and you hate how even now, you’re distracted by how good he looks. He reaches for the towel and loosely wraps it around his waist. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Neither did I,” you snap, stuffing your gear into your bag, not caring how haphazardly it’s packed. “This— this isn’t what I signed up for. I’m here to work, remember? Not… whatever the fuck that was.”

He steps closer, reaching for your arm, but you yank it away before he can touch you. The last thing you need is his hands on you right now, reminding you of everything you shouldn’t want.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice softens, but there’s a frustration beneath it, like he’s grappling with the same confusion you are. “I wasn’t trying to mess with you, okay? I just… I don’t know what the hell is happening between us either.”

You stop, finally meeting his gaze. There’s something in his eyes that pulls at the part of you that’s freakishly tethered to him, but you can’t let that get to you now. Not when everything feels so damn complicated.

“Javier, this—” You struggle for words, shaking your head. “This can’t keep happening. I can’t—” You pause, your breath catching. I can’t have you. “I don’t want you,” you correct yourself.

His jaw clenches, muscles ticking under the strain. “Stop bullshitting me,” he growls, eyes narrowing.

“I’m not,” you shoot back, but it comes out too quickly, too rehearsed.

“You’re lying through your fuckin’ teeth, and it’s pathetic. What is so wrong with giving me a chance?” He keeps circling back to this— chances.

One thing about him, he knows how to trigger a fucking migraine.

“Everything!” The word bursts out of you like a confession. “Everything about this is wrong. It’s why I’ve been trying to stay away since day one, but you’re so— ugh!” You throw your hands up, exasperated, the bathroom suddenly feeling too small and claustrophobic. He’s got you spinning in circles, tying you up in knots, and you can’t think straight around him.

Without a second thought, you turn to leave, your feet moving as if you’re fucking levitating. So what if you’ve made a habit of running away from him? You don’t owe him shit.

“Nena—” Desperation laces his voice and that stupid nickname makes your skin curl. “I don’t want you to leave like this.”

“Well, too bad,” you snap over your shoulder. “I’m leaving so you can’t sweet-talk me into anything.” The slam of the door echoes behind you, a final punctuation to your statement.

As you step out into the hallway, the distant sounds of people fucking filter through the air, kind of grounding you back to the real world.

You can’t keep working with him, not if every interaction is going to end like this. You make a mental note to talk to Robbie after today’s shoot. No more Peña.

The day drags on, the tension from earlier still lingering, but now, sitting outside on the shaded patio, you feel a small reprieve.

A half-eaten sandwich rests before you on the table, your eyes lazily tracing the lines of the zero-edge pool that blends into the horizon. The soft rustle of palm trees swaying in the gentle breeze lulls you into a sense of temporary peace. You glance around, taking in the pristine luxury surrounding you. Rich people really have it made, you think, marveling at the extravagance of someone else’s life.

The spat with Javier lingers but you’ve done your best to ignore it by keeping busy. The other shoots happening in the house have kept you distracted, but you know what’s coming: the last scene of the day— with him— and the new girl, Mariella. A small sigh escapes your lips as you sink deeper into the patio chair, absolutely dreading it.

Your tranquility is shattered when you feel a presence nearby. Already anticipating another confrontation with Javier, you steel yourself and don’t even bother looking up before snapping, “Oh my god, can you just leave me alone—”

The words get jammed in your throat as your eyes land on Frankie, not Javier. He stands there, looking taken aback, a paper bag in one hand and an awkward smile tugging at his lips. You instantly feel like a bitch.

“Shit— sorry,” you stammer, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I thought you were someone else.”

Frankie lets out a small chuckle, brown eyes softening as he rubs the back of his neck. “No worries, I can leave if you want—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, waving him off. “Please, stay. I didn’t mean to be snappy.”

He hesitates for a moment before motioning to the empty chair across from you. “Mind if I sit?”

You shake your head, and he lowers himself into the seat, setting his lunch down. The small talk starts easily, flowing naturally as you both munch on your food. He tells you about his daughter, a proud smile on his face as he recounts how she’s the light of his life. Then he goes on about how his friends call him Catfish because of some dumb inside joke, and also the fact that he’s a retired pilot. It somehow doesn’t surprise you— the career fits him.

“How do you go from flying helicopters to shooting porn?” you ask, the question half serious, half teasing as you lean back in your chair, eyes hidden behind your sunglasses.

Frankie raises an eyebrow and smirks, clearly amused. “Shit happens,” he says with a shrug. “How do you go from having a film production degree to spending your days staring at tits and ass?”

A wry smile tugs at your lips. You tilt your head, pausing for effect. “... Shit happens,” you echo, the irony not lost on either of you.

He snorts, taking a slow sip of his water, the sound of his laughter rolling into the lazy afternoon air. You can’t help but steal a glance from behind your shades, your gaze wandering over his rugged features.

There’s something about the way the sun hits him just right, casting a golden glow over his tanned skin. You swallow, feeling a subtle pull in your chest, an unexpected attraction. He’s not flashy, not like the other guys you’re used to working with— there’s an unspoken confidence in his ease, a solidness that makes you want to keep looking.

“So… who’d you think I was? Just then?” He asks, adjusting his cap.

You try not to let your small smile falter. “Oh, just an annoying coworker.”

“Ah, the kind who shows up at the worst times, huh?”

“Exactly,” you reply with a laugh, “You know the type.”

Frankie leans in just slightly, lowering his voice. “Well, I’m glad I’m not that guy.” There’s a flicker of flirtation in his tone, his eyes lingering a beat too long. “But if you ever need someone to… keep him under control, you just let me know. Got the remedy for that right here.”

He exaggeratedly flexes his biceps, and the snug t-shirt he’s wearing pulls taut around his arms, highlighting their impressive size.

You can’t help but admire the view— he’s really fun to look at, all charming smiles and playful confidence.

“I might just take you up on that, actually,” you reply, matching his energy with a teasing smile of your own. “I could definitely use someone who knows how to handle things.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his pink lips. “I’m more than equipped for that, trust me.”

For a second, it feels like the two of you are in your own little world— until, of course, it comes crashing down.

A voice cuts through the moment like a knife. “We’re ready for the last scene.”

You turn to see Javier standing there, arms crossed, jaw tight, his gaze flicking between you and Frankie. His entire posture screams annoyance.

“And who are you?” Frankie retorts, squinting one eye against the harsh sunlight, playful defiance dancing in his tone.

Javier doesn’t seem to like that response at all. “I’m ready to get this shit done with,” he snaps, and you narrow your eyes, practically shooting daggers at him.

Frankie clears his throat, sizing up Javier’s bristling energy. “Right.”

You catch the word presumido slip from his lips— the Spanish insult that has you exhaling a light laugh through your nose, because he’s so spot on and he doesn’t even know it.

Both of you stand, Frankie gathering the remnants of your lunch. “If you’d like some company down by the beach later, I’ll still be around,” he adds smoothly, sliding the proposition in there as casually as if he were just suggesting grabbing coffee. You almost don’t mind him crashing your solo date.

“I’ll let you know,” you reply, pushing your chair in. “It would be great to not have to take the taxi back, but I was willing to do it for a nice afternoon by the water.” You can feel Javier’s possessive stare burning into you from across the way.

Frankie, absolutely unbothered, leans in closer, a charming grin on his face. “Here’s my number if you need that ride.” A pen appears out of nowhere, and he scribbles down his digits on a clean corner of his napkin, tearing it off with an effortless confidence before handing it to you.

“Definitely,” you say with a flirty smile, tucking the napkin into your pocket, feeling a thrill against the scowling presence of the spectator watching from the sliding glass door

Frankie branches off to use the restroom and you push past Javier, no intention of speaking to him until—

“If you spent less time flirting with the crew and more time focusing on your job, we’d be finished by now.”

You can practically taste his jealousy.

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him, your patience running thin. “Really, Javi? You’re jealous of Frankie? That’s what this is about? Did our last conversation not put shit in perspective for you?”

He steps closer, eyes hard, voice low. “Jealous? Of him?” He scoffs, but the tension in his jaw betrays him. “I just don’t appreciate having to wait because you’re too busy cozying up to someone else. Especially someone who looks like they just got picked up off the side of the road.”

“And you wonder why I don’t like you.” Is all you can say, brushing past him yet again, his presence looming heavy as you head toward the living room where the last scene is set to be shot.

The moment Robbie goes on with his usual pre-shoot rundown, your attention shifts to the newbie Mariella immediately, drowning out his usual spiel.

The girl— and she is a girl, no matter what the paperwork says— looks painfully young. Her cropped tee hugging her braless chest, barely keeping her breasts from spilling out, and those flimsy pajama shorts riding high on her thighs. It’s the kind of outfit that makes you uneasy— one you’ve seen too many times in this industry, designed to play into the fantasies of men who want their women to look barely legal.

You bite the inside of your cheek, the sour taste of frustration building in the back of your throat. This is the part of the job that gnaws at you— the undercurrent of exploitation that no one acknowledges.

You’re not naive, you know exactly what sells in porn. You know what these people want to watch, what they get off on. The younger, the better.

Still, it doesn’t make it any easier to stomach when you’re standing on set, watching it play out in real time.

Just as Mariella positions herself, preparing for the camera to roll, you can’t stop yourself. The words come out before you can think to censor them. “How old are you?”

Suddenly, everyone’s attention shifts to you. Robbie. Steve. Frankie. Even Javier, who’s lounging in the corner, waiting for his moment to shine. They all freeze, the casual banter dying off as your question lingers in the air. Mariella blinks, looking around as if unsure who you’re even talking to.

“I—I turned twenty last week.”

Your expression hardens, and the disapproval is written all over your face. “She’s not even old enough to drink, and you’re having her fuck Javier?” Your eyes cut to Robbie, who’s staring at you like you’ve just sprouted another head.

The silence stretches for a beat too long before he scoffs, shaking his head like you’re being ridiculous. “I don’t pay you to hear your opinions on shit,” he snaps, clearly irritated. “Just sit there and record the damn thing.”

Your eyes roll hard enough that it almost hurts. “You’re all a bunch of perverts.”

Poor Frankie catches a stray with that one. It’s like everything is grating on you in ways it usually doesn’t. Normally, you can shove it down and keep your head low because, at the end of the day, you’re just here for the paycheck.

“Perverts pay your bills, sweetheart,” Robbie throws back, all nonchalant. What’s worse is that he’s right.

Moments like this make you wonder how long you can keep doing this without losing a part of yourself in the process.

You look around at the other three men, none of them stepping up to say anything in your defense. Useless.

You shouldn’t be surprised, but it stings. Even Javier, usually quick with a sarcastic quip or biting comment, says nothing. He just sits there, stuffing out a cigarette that’s magically appeared between his lips.

It feels like a betrayal, even though you know better than to expect any different.

And Mariella? She’s clearly distracted, caught up in the magnetic pull Javier has over people. The way she’s looking at him with that starstruck, wide-eyed awe only makes it worse. You can see it in her expression, the way her gaze flickers over him like she’s already imagining how it’s going to feel when he fucks her. Thinking with her pussy instead of having common sense.

You recognize it because you were just in her exact position, drawn into that same orbit. You find empathy for her, but not the other motherfuckers.

The room descends into awkward silence, as if everyone’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you’re not in the mood for a full-blown argument, so you shut down, slumping into the chair behind your camera with your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

You know it’s only a matter of time before all these feelings you’ve been aggressively pushing down come back up and make you snap, but for now, you continue to force it all away.

You’re assigned to shoot the stoic, wide shots while Frankie’s in charge of the close-ups, and honestly? You’re relieved. The last thing you need is to be up close, watching this trash unfold.

The scene starts with the typical, raunchy premise: Dad pays babysitter with his cock! It explains Mariella’s barely-there outfit and the cluttered coffee table with school notebooks, setting the scene.

Then there’s Javier who looks the part too; dressed in dark blue slacks, a typical white collared shirt with a few buttons popped open to give that I’m stressed, come take care of me vibe.

He’s the picture of temptation, and it’s obvious Mariella’s already in the clouds.

The filming begins and they share that cheesy, erotic dialogue and lustful touches. You feel yourself sink further into the chair, silently counting down the minutes until you’re decompressing by the beach.

She sinks to her knees before him, her doe eyes looking up at him with that practiced innocence they all seem to perfect so quickly. She reaches for the buttons on his slacks, her delicate fingers fumbling just a little before she pulls down the zipper and tugs at the waistband. She nuzzles her face against his thigh, brushing her lips against his skin, and finally pulls out his cock. Even soft, it’s still an impressive size— but it’s definitely not how this was supposed to go.

“Well, are you going to suck it or just stare at it?” Javier snaps, his tone cutting through the air with an edge that feels too sharp, too real. It doesn’t sound like the crudeness that’s meant to spice up the scene.

His hand shoots out and tangles in her hair, yanking her closer. He’s rougher than usual, harsher, as he forces her mouth onto him.

She wraps her lips around his head, suckling softly at first, then taking him deeper into her mouth. She’s trying to do her job, playing the part of the eager babysitter, but something’s off.

Javier’s head tilts back, eyes squeezed shut, but it’s not the usual look of pleasure that crosses his face. It’s more like he’s concentrating, forcing himself to feel something that isn’t there.

You can’t help it— your eyes flick around the room, looking at the rest of the crew. No one seems to be noticing what you’re seeing, their eyes all honed in on the action in front of them.

But you’re catching the small details like you always do.

After a few more moments, it’s clear that it’s not happening. Javier lets out a frustrated curse, pulling out of her mouth with an audible, wet pop. “Fuck—just, give me a second,” he grumbles, stepping back. Mariella wipes the saliva from her lips with the back of her hand, looking up at him with a mix of confusion and hesitation.

You take that as your cue. Reaching over, you stop the recording, your finger hesitating on the button for only a moment before pressing it. Frankie does the same, Steve lowers his mic and pulls his headset off.

Javier runs a hand through his hair, his eyes darting to the floor, like he’s trying to avoid looking at anyone directly. “I just need a minute,” he says again, but it’s more to himself than to anyone else.

Your gaze lingers on him for a second longer than you intend, and your mind flashes back to earlier, to the way he was with you. The memory is sharp and clear, the contrast striking. He’d come undone for you without hesitation, without needing any coaxing or forcing. Just words. But now, with Mariella kneeling in front of him, offering herself up like a gift, he’s struggling.

“How long will this minute take? We gotta be outta here soon so get it up before I get one of these two to take your place.”

Javier scoffs, dismissive, “Tape wouldn’t fucking sell.”

“Well one featuring a soft dick won’t either,” comes the retort, and the two of them start their back-and-forth bickering.

You rub at your temples, trying to ease the pressure building behind your eyes. This has to be some weird-ass dream; it sure as hell feels like it. Maybe you’re still in bed, blissfully sleeping until three in the afternoon.

Javier storms off and Steve puts his equipment down. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Robbie just waves him away. “Take five,” he mutters to the rest of you, going in the opposite direction. This is such a mess, and poor Mariella remains on her knees, picking at her cuticles.

“Please get up and sit on the couch. You look pathetic,” you say to her, not cruelly but bluntly. It’s not her fault, but the sight of her there is making you itch. She complies like a chastised child.

Frankie drops down beside you, letting out a breath that mirrors your own. “These things usually go like this?” He takes his hat off, ruffling his hair before putting it back on.

“No,” shit has just been weird amongst this group for weeks now. “Burnout is inevitable, I guess.” You’re not about to sit there and shit-talk Javier, despite everything. You might have a mountain of complicated feelings when it comes to him, but you won’t kick him while he’s down.

Before Frankie can respond, Robbie comes barreling back into the room, his face flushed with anger. His eyes lock onto you, and you can see the accusation in them before he even opens his mouth.

“This is your fault,” he spits out, voice sharp, acidic. “All that shit you were talking earlier— now he’s fucking broken.”

You narrow your eyes, standing your ground. “Excuse me?” you snap, incredulous. “I was making a valid point. How the hell is it my fault that he grew a conscience?”

“Y’know,” he starts, his words dripping with the kind of vile, misogynistic shit that makes your blood boil. “You’d do me more good in front of the camera. Have somethin’ shoved up in there to keep you fucking quiet.”

The reaction is immediate. You shoot up from your seat so fast the chair scrapes against the floor, the sound sharp and angry, mirroring how you feel. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Frankie stands too, his face hardening as he takes a step in front of you, finally coming to your defense. “Watch it,” he warns, and it feels like the whole situation could explode into something much worse.

Robbie, of course, just sneers “What? You gonna defend her? She’s been a pain in my ass for weeks—”

“I’m done.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think them through, but they feel right.

You’re tired— so damn tired— of this whole mess. Of dealing with assholes like Robbie and Javier who think they can get away with saying whatever they want. “I quit.”

Your boss’s mouth opens as if he’s about to say something else, but you cut him off with a cutting glare. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to you treat me like shit because your precious Javier can’t get his dick hard. Go fuck yourself, Robbie.”

You don’t wait for a response. You turn on your heel and head for the door, your heart pounding in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You’ll double up on shifts at the bar or go back to waiting tables like you did throughout college. Whatever keeps you away from this bullshit.

As you stride down the hallway toward the entrance, you pass Javier and Steve. Javier’s face is stormy, brows knitted together as if he’s still reeling from whatever heated discussion they just had.

The moment he spots you, his expression shifts. There’s a flicker of surprise, maybe even concern.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks.

You yank the heavy, probably expensive for no reason, front door open, the sound echoing through the hallway. “I just quit,” you snap, voice sharp as glass. “See you never.”

🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @libre-sol . @cherrysugarx . @goodvibesonly421 .

finally started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out. muchas gracias mis putitas (gn) (endearingly) 🖤

#pedro pascal #javier pena smut #javier peña smut #javier pena fic #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfic #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña narcos #javier pena x you #javier peña x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic

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eddiexmunsonlover · 4 months ago

Text

Heat Wave ~ E.M.

Neighbor!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: A heat wave coursing through Hawkins sends Eddie seeking out any form of relief. Even the cheap, little inflatable pool in your backyard will do, but he'll have to do something for you first. WC: 2.7k Warnings: MDNI 18+ SMUT. Unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), singular use of the phrase 'good boy', no use of Y/N, outdoor semi-public sex. Inspired from laying in the pool during the heat wave that just hit my area, wanted to get this out before summer's over!

Follow my new blog for future fics @cherryxhaze

In the dead of summer in Hawkins, Indiana, it’s another day in a seemingly endless heatwave cooking the midwest. In the Forest Hills Trailer Park, poor insulation does little to help keep the heat out of the metal sided homes, few in the neighborhood able to afford A/C costs, window units struggling to combat the high temperatures. Rather than sweltering in his room, Eddie finds relief walking under the trees in the park, leaves providing shade from the relentless sun.

He’s beginning to think it’s the only relief he’ll get from the rising temperatures this summer. Until he approaches a trailer, glimpsing through the passing trees into the backyard, yellow plastic catches his eye… and crystal clear water.

A pool.

A cheap, inflatable one only a couple feet wide, but a pool nonetheless. Filled with cool water. He can practically feel it engulfing his warm, sweaty body.

Next to it on a plastic lounge chair lays you, basking in the sun. Back home from college, he assumes.

“Well, well, well. Back to visit us peasants?” his voice booms, startling you out of your trance. He leans against your trailer, arms crossed with a grin plastered on his face.

“Jesus Christ, Munson. Can you be any less subtle?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Would you rather I have knocked?”

You roll your eyes, readjusting in the chair as you eye the metalhead.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, you know. Just perusing the neighborhood, decided to stop by and say hi to an old friend.” He meanders closer to your position, hiding an ulterior motive clear as day. An arched brow peeks over your sunglasses.

“Uh huh… friend…sure”

“Hey, you never spewed insults at me in the halls at school, I consider that a friend!”

You scoff out an amused chuckle as he throws a cheeky grin your way.

“Okay, sure. So, friend, what exactly is it that you wanted?”

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice you’re keeping this sweet slice of heaven back here, all to yourself.”

“Yeah, I bought it all by myself.” You state matter-of-factly.

“Hmm. I guess maybe I just thought, being the generous person you are, you’d be willing to share with a friend. I mean, considering the conditions.” He gestures around him with open arms, putting on all the charm he can muster in those dimples.

Despite his stance on the existence of your friendship, you’d never been more than neighbors and classmates. Your circles at Hawkins High never ran or meshed together, your friends falling into the norm of calling him a ‘freak’. A nickname, insult rather, that you never partook in berating him with. An insult that remained when he failed his senior year, meant to graduate with your class. You’ve heard from friends in passing that he failed this year too. You never thought less of him for it though, unlike everyone else in town.

To be honest, you’ve always had a liking for him despite your minimal interactions. Eyes lingering over him when you’d see him in class or the halls, fighting a smirk from his theatrics at lunch. You’d become an outcast like him if your friends knew, but you’d been hiding a crush on Eddie Munson for years. As you look over him now, it becomes strikingly clear that your crush hasn’t faded in the year away at college.

“You think flattery will work on me, hmm?” you remark with a grin.

“Well I only speak the truth, cross my heart.” His actions follow his words, hand over heart.

“Hmm” Your propped up leg fidgets side to side as you consider him.

“Okay, I’ll let you take a dip. But only if there’s something in it for me.” You decide with a confident smile, reveling in the way it catches him off guard before his theatrics kick back in.

“Why, of course. It’s only fair. What would you have me do?”

You keep him a little on edge, taking your time in deciding as you look amongst the yard until a perfect idea pops into your mind at the bottle next to you.

“Well, it is time for me to reapply. Mind giving me a hand?” You throw your own charm his way, a bottle of sunscreen extended out to him.

He only falters for a split second before nodding like a bobble head.

“Uh y-yeah, sure. Of course.” He answers almost too eagerly. “Skin care is important.”

He worries the forced chuckle gives him away.

When you turn to lay on your stomach, he’s grateful you can’t see the way his entire expression fumbles.

To be fair, he’s always had the hots for you. Given your differing social groupings, he never thought he’d stand a chance. Now, he wonders if his mind is playing tricks on him with your demand. Eying the way your bottoms have bunched up between your cheeks, full figure on display for him, barely covered by the cloth.

A deep sigh rises from your chest at the sensation of his calloused hands spreading the cool lotion along your warm skin. Working from your shoulders and down your arms, you feel the anticipation rising as his hands move down your back.

Lower and lower until.. his hands meet your calves. His tongue peeks from between his lips, watching as his hands move higher, from your calves to your thighs. An irresistible tug pulling his eyes and hands to move to your ass.

“Do you uh- want me to..?” he questions, eyeing your cheeks only half covered by your bottoms.

“If you wouldn’t mind… not trying to deal with sunburn on my ass.” You answer sweetly, ending with a lighthearted laugh.

The sensation shoots right between your legs, only inches away from where his calloused fingers knead the plush flesh of your ass. You have to bite your lip to muffle the moan threatening to rise up your throat.

Eddie almost swears he feels the slightest push of your ass against his hands. He’s mesmerized by it, unable to stop himself from visualizing what’s underneath the slither of cloth. He never thought he’d ever be this close to you, let alone touching you like this. He wants to lose himself in it, in you but stops himself before his lingering touch becomes suspicious.

“A-alright, you’re all good.”

You flip over onto your back with a smile.

“Thanks, Eddie. You wouldn’t mind doing this side too, right?”

His eyebrows shoot up with a bob of his adam’s apple, gulping at the proposition before forcing a chuckle.

“Just trying to get a free massage out of me, aren’t ya?”

“Well you know, college is very stressful and I did say you’d have to make it worth my while”

He licks his lips before sinking his teeth into them, looking down at the sunscreen in his hands.

“Yeah, alright” he agrees with a smirk.

His movements mimic his work on your backside. Shoulders, down your arms, slowing as they glide across your chest, forcing himself not to linger before moving down to your stomach. Working up your calves, to your thighs. Admiring the way his fingers dig into the doughy flesh, your covered pussy right in his face.

You’re enjoying yourself far too much, watching how flustered you’re making him through the shade of your sunglasses. As his fingers glide up your legs, you spread them open ever so slowly. Biting your lip as his hands caress up to the inside of your thighs, eyeing the growing bulge in his shorts.

“Eddie…”

Wide eyes shoot up from your core to meet your eyes, now uncovered with your sunglasses moved atop your hair.

“Do you want a taste?”

He watches as your hand slides down your stomach, inching toward your pussy before they flash back up to meet yours.

“It’s a question, not an order.” You giggle at his silence, giving him an out.

“You’re serious?” He asks in disbelief, mouth agape.

You nod softly, biting your bottom lip as your fingers ghost over your clit.

“Wanted you for a long time” You mutter, breathing becoming heavier at the prospect of finally getting what you’ve wanted for so long.

“Shit…” His gaze falls back down to where your hand is, rubbing your pussy through your bathing suit. “You don’t have to ask me twice, sweetheart.”

His hand replaces yours, gently sliding your bottoms to the side and groaning at the sight of your pussy. You gasp softly as his tongue dives between your folds, licking a long stripe from your already wet hole and up to your clit. Hands sliding up your body, pulling both sides of your top to the side to free your breasts. Rough hands engulfing them, massaging them between his fingers as he shoves his face in your pussy like a starving man. Tongue exploring every crevice, lapping up your juices as his nose nudges against your clit.

“Oh fuck” You moan, head falling back as your fingers tug at his curls.

His fingers pinch and roll your nipple between them as his tongue circles your clit, bringing his other hand down to tease your entrance with his fingers. Slowly sliding two ringed digits in, tongue flicking against your clit before sucking it into his mouth, your eyes rolling back at the overwhelming pleasure, moans freely falling from your lips.

You force your eyes open to watch. The sight of Eddie Munson between your legs, mouth worshiping your pussy, tongue working you in a way no guy ever has before, it’s sending you closer to the edge faster than you ever have before.

You bite your lip at the sight, fingers running through his hair. The metal of his rings digging into the flesh of your ass with each thrust of his fingers into you.

“Mmm, good boy.”

A deep, rumbling moan rises from his chest, sending vibrations through your clit sucked between his lips as the pads of his finger rub against your g-spot.

“Fuck, Eddie. You’re gonna make me cum!”

Your admission only eggs him on more, sucking onto your clit harder, fingers moving faster in and out of your soaking walls that clench around them. His eyes flutter open to meet yours and that’s all it takes, every muscle in your body tightening, thighs trembling around his head as you grip it.

Coming down from your orgasm, he replaces his soaked fingers with his tongue. Licking up every bit of your juice he can.

“Taste s’good, baby” he mumbles, face still buried in your pussy.

You whine at the praise and sensation, grabbing onto his hand and bringing his fingers to your mouth, sucking your cum off them. He pulls his attention back to you with a guttural moan, the action making his cock throb even harder in his shorts. Your other hand reaches out to rub him through the fabric, never breaking eye contact.

“Need to feel you inside me” you beg, rubbing the pads of his fingers along your bottom lip.

“Christ…”

His other hand eagerly reaches for the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down under his balls, throbbing cock springing free. Yanking his shirt off to relieve him from the heat of the sun and your sweating bodies.

He lines his cock up with your entrance, slowly sliding himself into your warm, wet walls until he’s fully sheathed inside you with a moan. His mouth latches onto one of your breasts, sucking and nibbling your nipple as he begins slowly thrusting into you.

“Fuck, yes!” you gasp out in pleasure, one hand in his hair as the other grips onto the lounge chair beneath you.

His mouth moves from your breast to your mouth in a hot, wet kiss as he shoves his cock as deep as he can inside you.

“Feel so good. Always wanted to fuck you, sweetheart. Feel this tight pussy wrapped around me.” he mutters against your lips. Sweat makes his bangs stick to his forehead, lips moving to latch onto your neck.

More moans escape your lips from the power his words, mouth, cock, the power he has over you, giving you more pleasure than you’ve ever felt by any other guy in Hawkins or college.

One of his arms hooks under your knee, giving him deeper access as his hips collide with yours, your hands attempting to grip onto his sweaty back. The sensation, his cock stretching you out with every thrust is overwhelming, consuming every bit of your attention, the fact of being in your backyard long forgotten.

“Eddie!”

Your whines of pleasure are met with a stifled chuckle.

“Better quiet down, sweetheart. Don’t want the whole neighborhood to hear you, do you?” his husky voice and breath fan over your ear, sending chills down your spine amid the relentless heat surrounding you.

His reminder, the reality that anyone passing along the same path he did, looking through just the right break in the trees at just the right time, would see Eddie “the freak” Munson balls deep in your pussy on the lounge chair in your backyard.

It only turns you on more, making your walls clench around him, delighting in the broken moans it pulls from him against your ear before he chuckles again.

“Mmm you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Dirty girl”

His thrusts pick up in pace, your sweat aiding to the wet sounds of his skin slapping against yours.

“You were so cocky earlier, what’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” He teases, out of breath. Sporting a smirk as his face moves into your vision, hovering above you.

You groan in a mix of pleasure and annoyance.

“Just- oh…shut up and fuck me”

His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip as he moves your legs to rest on his shoulders, allowing his cock to go even deeper inside you. His hands keep a harsh grip on your hips as he plows into you mercilessly. The new position and rough thrusts making the wet, slapping sounds of his skin on yours, his balls slapping your ass grow even louder along with your moans.

“Oh god oh god, yes!” your desperate whimpers fumble from your lips, a white knuckle grip on the plastic holding your bodies up. You’re sure it’ll buckle beneath you at any moment from the power of his thrusts.

“Mmm. What if your mother came home right now, fuck, to find her precious daughter getting fucked by the town freak, huh?”

Even in his pleasure, the smug teasing still breaks through. Taking even more pleasure in watching you unravel beneath him, because of him, a girl once thought to be completely unattainable, now cockdrunk for him.

“Mmm don’t care, feel too fucking good” you answer breathlessly, feeling yourself quickly barreling toward your climax again.

He can’t decide where to look, watching your face twist in pleasure or watch his cock disappear in and out between your pussy lips. Despite his teasing, he can feel he doesn’t have much longer, and if the way your walls are pulsing around his cock is any sign, he knows you don’t either.

“Gonna cum again for me, baby? Give it to me, wanna feel you soak my cock, pretty girl”

He keeps up his relentless pace as much as he can and you feel like his cock is about to split you in two, making your toes curl in their position next to his head. You can’t stop it even if you tried, waves of pleasure crashing through your whole body as you meet your end.

“Fuck, Eddie!” you squeal in overwhelming pleasure, hands moving to grip onto his arms. Your head thrown back, mouth falling open, back arching off the chair as everything in you clenches.

The tight grip you have on his cock and the scream of his name as you cum is all it takes to drive him into his own climax, removing his cock from the warm confines of your pussy to cum all over your bare stomach with a deep moan of your name.

Your grips loosen, his head falling to rest on your chest as your legs fall to his sides. Heavy breaths and chests heaving as you recoup from your highs.

“Shit. If this is what I have to do to use your pool… I’ll be here all summer.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #neighbor!eddie munson #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x plussize!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem reader

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jkgnggj · 1 year ago

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This is the first draft and sketches for this mikotori com, at first the background was a lighter pink. I like both versions but I ended up sticking with the dark pink one >.< But idk what do you guys think?

HAPPY MIKOREI MONDAY! <333 another com by the one and only @lu-kario

#i think i like the lighter pink one now #but ik in a few days ill change. my mind again like always pfft #anyways #bts of the com #bts?#behind the scenes #mikorei monday #i havent posted anything og in a while sorry ive been busy and lazy and had no motivation </3 #plus ive ran out of comes to post besides torikechi...#sorryyy

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aurumalatus · 1 month ago

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𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟓]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.1k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, reader is mentioned to be wearing a dress, descriptions of blood and injury

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. the slow burn is burning... kinich is a little slow to the punch though LOL. this chapter talks about turnfire night, i took a lot of ~artistic liberty~ with the banquet and such so don't hate on me pls. there's a bit of angst in the next few chapters, i'm sorry HAHAHA. pls lmk what you guys think, it's very motivating! i hope you enjoy <3 reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗥𝗢𝗢𝗠 (𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗛 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗘)

At some point, the flowers start to speak your name.

Kinich isn’t sure when the idea took root in his mind—it had been slow for sure, a snail crawling over a branch. Living together makes you a perpetual presence in his life, a certainty like the rise of the sun and the glint of the stars. He finds comfort in that knowledge, but rarely thinks on it more than that.

The day he realizes it, the sun is a bright yolk in the sky, honey-yellow and shining dutifully upon his back. A layer of sweat plasters itself to his forehead, and he scrubs it away with his wrist, panting. For as many years as he’s been a farmer, the work hardly gets easier; it still leaves him sore and aching every day.

Across the field, the front door of your home swings open—it’s you that peeks out, waving. Kinich nods back in reply, gathering the vegetables in his basket and jogging back over to you. He frowns when he notices a dark spot on one of his carrots, vaguely noting that he should toss that one out later.

“I ran you a bath,” you offer, leaning halfway out the doorway. Kinich extends a half-smile in gratitude.

“Thanks,” he replies, holding the harvest out to you. You take the basket with a small ‘thank you’, placing it down on your feet. Usually, you would take the vegetables inside right away to wash and cut them, but today, you’re lingering—there’s something on your mind.

But Kinich is nothing if not patient, so he merely waits, arching a brow.

“It’s Turnfire Night,” you finally admit, hands clasped behind your back. “Elder Leik invited us to the banquet, if you’re keen on going.”

Surprised, Kinich glances over his crops. He’s just about done here for the day, and he doesn’t have anything on the to-do list for tonight anyway.

“Do you want to?”

You’re hesitating, likely out of shyness—he watches you rock back and forth on your heels.

“I think it’d be nice,” you reply, short.

You’re trying not to force him, he realizes. You know how much he hates crowded things like that. And usually, you would be right, but he thinks back on the last time he’d visited the village. It’s been long enough, he decides, and one day wouldn’t kill him.

“Sure, we can go.”

Your disposition brightens instantly, nearly ascending with joy.

“Really?” you squeak, hands drawing to your chest. He smiles and nods, shaking his head with amusement when you disappear back inside, cheering. You’re easy to please in a lot of ways.

Kinich takes you up on your offer of a warm bath, then prepares one for you as well. Gone are the days that the two of you washed up in the river—a nicer bathtub had been one of your earlier investments, and Kinich had grown to appreciate the blessings of a warm place to wash at the end of a long day. It does wonders for his aching muscles.

Over the years, Kinich’s house had slowly grown into a home, right under his nose. Your presence had been a driving force in that process.

While his hair dries, he’s in the kitchen organizing a few of the cupboards when you emerge from your bath, footsteps quietly padding against the floor. You call his name, voice thin and uncertain. When he turns, his heart squeezes.

You’re wearing a lovely dress, a forest green with golden accents—he briefly notes that it matches his eyes, then wonders if you had chosen that on purpose. The thought leaves his head foggy.

“What do you think?” you ask shyly, giving a small twirl. Kinich’s gaze follows the flow of your skirt, the liveliness of it. He’s never seen you dressed up like this in all his years of knowing you, and the sight makes something take root in his chest. “I bought it at the market a while ago, just in case.”

There’s a beat of silence, but it doesn’t sit for long.

“It looks nice,” is all that crawls from his throat, thick. The words sound awkward from his lips, he thinks harshly. A heated flush surges up his neck, curling around his ears and resting there. You practically glow at his response, clapping to yourself.

“I got something for you too,” you sing, disappearing into the bedroom. Kinich waits patiently until you return, gesturing for him to close his eyes. He indulges you, and it’s a few seconds before something soft brushes at his forehead, pushing his bangs aside.

A bandana.

When his vision returns, you’re standing inches away from his face—his breath hitches at the proximity. Your gaze is searching as it meets his, your lip twitching at the edge. The excitement nearly pours off of you in waves.

You’re staring.

Kinich’s fingers brush his own cheek, self-conscious. “What is it?”

You lean impossibly closer.

“Nothing,” you hum, happy as a clam. “I just think it makes your eyes look even prettier.”

You’ve always told him how much you love his eyes, the starburst of jade and gold. You have a tendency to notice things about him that no one else does.

“Does it look nice?” he asks quietly, thumbing at the cloth. He would recognize a product of your weaving anywhere—you must’ve been working on this for a while now. He wonders when you found the time, or even how you managed to do it without him noticing.

You nod, a fond smile gracing your face. “You look really handsome.”

Kinich feels a touch of jealousy at the ease with which the words seem to fall from your lips. Sometimes, he wishes he could speak his mind the way you do. He doesn’t usually hold back in his words—most people he interacts with can attest to that—but when it comes to you, his tongue grows heavy in his mouth.

Still, the idea that you think he looks handsome is…nice.

“Thank you,” he breathes.

You turn and skip back into the bedroom, calling over your shoulder about how the two of you should leave soon. He watches you leave, the dress flowing like silk over your form. He swallows.

It’s really, really nice.

Later on, Kinich holds you close as the two of you grapple toward the village, mountains and trees racing past you. Your giggles are warm against his ear; you love traveling like this, the adrenaline that pulses through your veins. Winking dots of light are already visible in the distance, a rousing cheer reaching your ears—the festivities have already started.

He lands neatly on one of the wooden walkways, taking in the scenery. The village is decorated with bright streamers and vases of blooming flowers, crowds of people maneuvering around the party. You maintain your grip on Kinich’s hand, unwilling to lose him in the crowd.

Two taller figures emerge from the swathe of people, greeting you by name.

“Have you two been taking care?” Elder Leik asks warmly, Chief Wayna smiling at his side. The elders are concerned for the two of you, Kinich knows; they’ve tried many times to convince you to move back to the village. Their efforts slowly ceased as the two of you grew older—you’ve always been steadfast in your independence.

You nod enthusiastically. “We’ve been doing really well! Everyone’s seeking out Kinich’s work.”

Your compliment makes him feel a bit embarrassed—he feels an urge to deny it, but the elders only laugh and congratulate him, ruffling at his hair. He does feel a bit satisfied that they recognize his strength.

“That’s great,” Chief Wayna replies, genuine. “Just remember you can always come to us if you ever need anything. But also make sure you enjoy the party!”

He leaves the two of you with a wink, fading into the crowd, and you take the opportunity to grasp at Kinich’s hand, pulling him along. You’re the most excited person there, truly in awe of everything.

Kinich indulges in some of the food, laughing at the gusto with which you scarf down your own—he chuckles as he wipes crumbs away from your cheeks. Everyone’s spirits are high; the music is loud and roaring, an electrifying song that Kinich can feel in his veins. You perk up at the sound.

“Kin, can we dance?” you beg, eyes bright and lips pouted.

He glances around. Really, he doesn’t want to, especially not in front of all of these people. But the music is slowing, and Kinich can never say no to you, so he sighs, pulling you close and placing a cursory hand at your waist.

“Is this good?” he asks, a murmur. You hum in content, resting your head at his shoulder.

“It’s great.”

A permanent grin seems to have plastered itself over your lips. Kinich absently thinks that it makes you look so much more beautiful—a flower in bloom.

“You’re really happy today,” he comments.

Your eyes flutter shut, delighted.

“I’m happy you wanted to come with me. And I was happy that you liked my dress, and that you liked the headband I wove for you. I’m just happy.”

A deep yearning fills Kinich’s chest at the feather-softness of your voice—he feels an urge to hide you away. Somehow, he wants this side of you to only be for him.

“I did really like it,” he confirms. “The headband, and…everything else.”

He likes spending time with you, he likes your dress, and he likes the warmth that permeates his body when you hold him like this. Everything else seems to fade into nothingness.

For a while, the two of you talk about nothing and everything. It’s a truly peaceful existence. Kinich tries to remember if he’s ever been to a Turnfire Night like this before; the last time he’d attended, he’d likely been too young to even remember the event. You just have a way of replacing his darker memories with pleasant ones.

The beat of the music picks up again, and Kinich feels an instant chill when you lift your head from his shoulder. Still, he sways to the music with you, smiling when you start to sing along to the energetic song.

“You’re a good dancer,” you observe, in awe. Kinich shrugs, smoothly spinning you again.

“It’s not that hard.”

Dancing with you is actually fun, he realizes despite his initial hesitation. Your laughter fades with the passing wind, dissipating into the night, and he can’t help but stare at the way the torchlight glimmers against your skin.

The two of you celebrate until the music dies to silence, until people start to yawn and retire to bed. By this time, the sun is already peeking in the distance, barely a whisper of light reaching you.

Kinich carries you home, soft snores echoing from your place on his back—he decides he won’t tease you about it later.

Instead, he promises himself that he’ll keep taking you to Turnfire Night every year after.

(Then, he promises himself that he’ll always protect your smile.)

By the time he cries for the first time, Kinich is fifteen.

He feels that he knows the way the world works now—those with strength, with value, survive. It’s not that he has any interest in being one of the rich ones with towering houses that line the cliffside. Really, all he needs to be satisfied is a comfortable life with you at the foot of the mountain. And his needs—things like clothes and food—come with Mora, so he makes Mora. It’s a simple existence.

He spends more time with you. Slowly but surely, he starts to bring you on jobs and hunts with him. You’re eager to learn about the work he does, and even more excited to help—your medical knowledge does tend to make things go faster. Still, he feels extra layers of anxiety whenever he knows you’re coming along, his grip drawing tighter around his sword.

It comes on a day like any other.

At first, it doesn’t seem like a particularly difficult job—it’s a run-of-the-mill request, to subdue a Saurian that’s been attacking travelers near the village. Even still, Kinich is as thorough as always in the days leading up to the job, and you let him take the lead. He’s strict about these things when you come along, and you know better than to distract him.

The day of, the two of you encounter the Saurian in a clearing adjacent to the road. It’s sick, you mention quietly, hidden in the foliage nearby—it’s foaming at the mouth, erratic in its movements. Kinich mumbles back his agreement.

It starts to peck at the poisoned berries he’d left for it, movements slowing. He counts down the minutes—at this point, it should be incapacitated enough for the kill.

It’s only when Kinich creeps up behind it, greatsword in hand, that he realizes he’d been wrong. The Saurian seems to switch at the last second, beady eyes burning as it poises to strike. Kinich barely blocks the attack with the flat of his blade, teeth gritted.

“Kinich!” you cry out, running to his side. The Saurian perks up at the sound, tense.

Kinich’s eyes widen. “Wait, don’t come—”

It’s too late. The Saurian’s claw catches you in the stomach as it whips around, sending you flying.

A sickening crack echoes when your back smacks against a rock—you crumple to the dirt, hunched over. A cold breath hisses between Kinich’s teeth as he screams your name.

The Saurian doesn’t last much longer than that, not that he really remembers any of it. He swings his sword, cutting and slicing, sounds of battle piercing the air. It’s only when he sprints to your side that he returns to his senses.

A harsh gash is ripped through your shirt and the skin beneath, a pool of crimson already gathering on your stomach. The sight brings bile crawling up his throat.

“Kin…”

Your voice is weak, and Kinich hushes you quickly, an urge to save your strength. A striking fear has his blood freezing in his veins—he remembers his father’s corpse. Terror hovers over his body, leaving him breathless. He intertwines his fingers with yours, pressing the back of your hand to his lips.

“That hurt,” you mumble, a touch of humor in your tone even now. “I’m tired.”

Your eyelids are heavy, stare unfocused.

“Don’t close your eyes!” he demands. He palms at your cheek lightly, willing you to stay awake. It’s unlike him, the desperation in his voice. “Didn’t you say you’d always be by my side?”

You chuckle, a line of blood dripping down your chin. Kinich thumbs it away.

“I said that when we were kids, silly.”

He swallows, throat bobbing. Your eyes follow the motion unconsciously.

“We’re still kids.”

His voice cracks as he says it, like his words can’t bear the brunt of their meaning. Your heart pulses, a burst of adrenaline coursing through you at his rare show of emotion. It’s only a moment, because the pain returns milliseconds later and a groan escapes your chest.

Quickly, Kinich pulls his headband off, sliding it between his teeth to hold while he pulls the flask of water from his belt. He sets about cleaning your wound, gentle, but the stress is evident in his expression. His hands are shaking; you can feel the tremble against your skin as he eases your shirt up.

“It’ll be okay,” he breathes. Even he is unsure if he’s speaking to you or himself. You nod weakly.

“It’ll be okay, Kin.” You cough, and something in Kinich’s chest snaps when a spray of blood splatters over the hem of his shirt. A spray of your blood. “Don’t worry, okay?”

He can’t even really hear you anymore. He’s staring at the crimson mist, wondering how this had even happened. He’d assumed he was strong enough—strong enough to do this job, strong enough to protect you—and he had been wrong. There must’ve been an error in his calculations, or maybe he hadn’t prepared enough.

He fastens his headband around your wound, stemming the blood flow. It’s almost an out-of-body experience—he hardly even recognizes the hands as his.

He’d gotten too comfortable, and you had paid the price.

Those with strength survive, but that day brings a sobering realization—Kinich is far weaker than he thought.

A cold tear slides down his cheek as he carries you home.

You’re sniffling in pain at each step, the movement irritating your wound, and Kinich feels truly helpless. All he can do is whisper promises and apologies, that he’s sorry it happened and that he promises everything will be okay. It almost feels worse that you don’t seem to blame him at all—you’re apologizing too, telling him you’re sorry for being a burden on his job.

“You’re never a burden,” he spits. It comes out harsher than intended, so he sighs, softening. “You could never be a burden to me.”

You don’t reply.

A thick lump lodges itself in his throat as he feels your blood soak through the back of his shirt. It all almost feels unreal—he feels like he could return home to your warmth and smile and everything would be okay. You have a way of making everything okay.

“We’re almost there, okay?” he murmurs. You’re sweating from the pain, sticky against his skin. “Just stay with me.”

The house feels unnaturally cold when he kicks the door open.

By the time he has your wound properly wrapped, the sun is gone, a distant memory. He sets you down in bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin—you’re already asleep, but your expression is unpleasant, tortured. You must be in pain, even in your dreams.

The thought makes him sick.

With a sigh, he stumbles out of the bedroom, collapsing onto the couch. His hands are still shaking from overuse and exhaustion. He’s not used to the tedious movements anymore like you are—you’re always the one patching him up these days.

A vase sits on the table. It’s full of Saurian Claw Succulents—you’d planted them yourself, cheery at the prospect of decorating the house a bit more. Kinich plucks one of the flowers from the vase by the thin stem, vacantly inspecting each petal.

He wonders what he has to change.

Those with strength survive. Kinich wants to survive. He wants to survive and live his days out with you.

But he’s not strong enough. If you can’t smile at his side, what good is he at all?

Your labored breathing is audible from the other room, the sound grating against his ears. If he had a Vision, or some other kind of power, things might’ve been different. If he had just been stronger—

He thinks back on his younger self, on his innocence, on his weakness. He’d discarded that side of himself long ago in favor of something more powerful, in favor of someone who could protect and take care of you.

There’s no turning back now, he thinks.

The stem snaps under his fingers, under the weight of it all, previous gentleness gone.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kinich x reader #genshin impact #kinich #genshin impact imagines #kinich x you #adeptus ink

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distantdarlings · 1 year ago

Text

PLAY IN YOUR MIND // t. nott

RATING: R / 3.3K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Reader Insert (No gender-specific details)

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* A couple of your friends describe a popular challenge spreading rapidly throughout Hogwarts, "No-Nut-November." You think it's the stupidest thing you've ever heard, until your boyfriend, Theo, bets you couldn't beat him at it.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Masturbation, slight voyeurism, slight degradation, manipulation (?), one use of 'daddy' (sorry), dirty talk, language, dom!Theo

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Heavy Metal Lover - Lady Gaga

---

The golden light poured through the window almost as if it was made of the pure material itself. Hot and smooth and liquid, sliding past the panes in the glass, illuminating all in its wake. The motes of dust swirled peacefully just beside your head. Your eyes, still swollen from sleep, squinted in a small smile at the lovely sight. A hand came up to gently weave your fingers in and out of the little creatures.

It was Saturday, which meant, of course, no classes and no Quidditch practice until around noon. It was only eight o’clock now, which meant you had plenty of time to have a nice breakfast, catch up on some homework, and check in on your friends. A shock of dopamine filled your stomach. You loved Saturdays.

The motivation born of the excitement to get started with your day had you ripping the comforters back and sitting up on the edge of the bed. You slid your toes between the shagged carpet, shuddering at the small tickle the material coaxed out of you.

You didn’t quite feel like getting ready to go down to the Great Hall so you settled for a robe over your pajamas and your fuzzy slippers, relying on the universe’s grace for the state of your breath and hair. Hopefully, your boyfriend wasn’t in a huge kissing mood.

For the most part, everyone in your dormitory had already left for the morning. You reckoned they were all downstairs grabbing some breakfast or headed to Hogsmeade for the day. You grabbed your wand, slid it into your robe pocket, and made your way toward the door. A small grumble came from your stomach at the thought of what might be waiting for you at breakfast.

You only ran into a few people on the way to the Great Hall, all of whom you didn’t know well enough to care about what they thought of your outfit. You yawned and rubbed a bit of sleep out of your eyes as you rounded the corner to the vast hall. The doors were already propped open, granting you a straight line of sight to the beautifully-lit room.

You crossed the threshold and found your entire group of friends gathered around the end of the table farthest to the left. You smiled as a couple of them caught your eye and waved you over.

It looked like you weren’t the only one who had the same idea with the majority of them being decked out in the finest pajamas and robes. Enzo’s hair was still heavily ruffled from sleep, yet he didn’t care.

“Good morning,” you suppressed another yawn. They returned the sentiment, some voices joyous and others grumbled from being up earlier. You smiled.

“What’s for breakfast this morning, love?” A very familiar voice popped up from behind you as a pair of hands slid around your shoulders. You bit your bottom lip as butterflies erupted in your stomach. It didn’t matter how long the two of you were together, Theo never failed to make you giddy.

You turned and faced his beautifully well-rested face and examined it closely. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his hands crossed against your lower back.

“I was thinking you,” you giggled, pressing a kiss to his lips. He smiled into the kiss and moved his lips along with yours. Fuck morning breath, you’d kiss him any time. A chorus of groans and fake gagging erupted behind the two of you. You both pulled away, chuckling childishly.

“Sounds alright to me,” he joked, guiding you to a seat between him and Enzo. You began surveying the options before you, the grumbles in your stomach building with every second. You eventually settled on a croissant with butter, a few selections of fruit, and some pumpkin juice to go with it.

“Sleep well?” Mattheo asked, crossing his arms on the table just in front of his cleaned plate. Sleep weighed heavy beneath his eyes, rimming dark circles on the soft flesh there. You clicked your tongue in disappointment.

“Well, I’d say yes, but it looks like you didn’t,” you say. “Feeling alright?”

“Oh, he’s feeling more than alright,” Enzo chuckled, ignoring the elbow Pansy placed into his ribs. “Er, well, he was last night anyway…maybe not so much now.”

“Stay out late, did you, mate?” Theo asked, digging into the breakfast himself.

“Something like that,” the dark boy smirked in response. The conversation suddenly turned away from Mattheo’s late-night activities and on to some planning for the day’s Quidditch practice but you couldn’t help but notice the dark purpling that spread from the base of Mattheo’s throat down to beneath his white tee shirt. He caught you staring and sent a wink your way. Cheeky bastard.

“Alright, I’m going to head down to the pitch early and try to get some practice in,” Enzo announced.

“I’m sure,” Mattheo laughed, “probably just going to see how fast he can beat no-nut-November.”

Theo and he broke out into uncontrollable laughter as a fiery red blush appeared across En’s cheeks and nose. Pansy stifled a laugh at the two’s response to the boy. It honestly kind of frustrated you.

“Hey, don’t tease him,” you scolded, giving a swift smack to Theo’s arm. “What the hell are you two talking about?”

It took a moment for the laughter to die down but eventually, the two of them had wiped the tears from their eyes and turned to face you.

“What, you mean you really don’t know what I’m talking about?” Mattheo smiled in obvious disbelief. You stared back blankly at him.

“Wait, are you serious, babe?” Theo turned more towards you. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, tapping your index finger against your skin in annoyance.

“We’ve already established this,” you spoke.

“Ah, shit, man. Maybe you should discuss this with her,” Mattheo shrugged. “I don’t feel comfortable explaining that to your partner.” Theo threw him a dirty look.

“Uh, well,” Theo turned to you, “It’s like when a guy—or girl, I guess—tries their hardest not to….you know…” He motioned with his hands, indicating he wanted you to fill in the blanks.

“Oh, uh… ‘nut’?” you asked. He nodded.

“You try to go all through November without,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “cumming.”

“Well, that’s no fun,” you joked. Mattheo laughed.

“Yeah, well, it’s part of the challenge,” Theo said.

“I’ve already lost, unfortunately,” Mattheo spoke. He pulled his shirt sleeve up and glanced at the watch placed around his wrist. “Twice since the first of November, actually.”

“But it’s November first today?” Pansy said, questioningly. Mattheo did not speak. Everybody suddenly made knowing glances as realization peaked between the five of you.

“Then I’m going to beat you!” Enzo said, looking around the group.

“Yeah, man,” Theo shouted, clapping a hand into his. “Me too!”

“Uh, you too?” you asked. “I’m sorry, where was my discussion about this?”

Theo turned to look at you, a slight look of disappointment printed on his face. He shrugged and avoided eye contact with you. You could tell you had embarrassed him slightly.

“I don’t know, it was kind of a sudden decision,” he said, “I didn’t really think it through, I just thought I’d help En out.”

“Okay, but he doesn’t need your help but someone else at this table occasionally does,” you spoke, crossing your arms. Mattheo choked on his pumpkin juice.

“Well,” Theo’s voice was lower and his head was bowed towards yours. “Baby, that doesn’t mean I can’t help you out. I just wanna show I’m, like, disciplined enough to do it, you know?”

“Theo, this is not a fucking Quidditch tournament. You don’t need to be ‘disciplined’ not to cum—just don’t do it,” you said.

“Easy for you to say,” mumbled Enzo. You glanced over at him to which he responded by dropping his eyes down to his feet.

“If you think it’s so easy, why don’t you do it, then?” Theo asked, his jaw tightening and his eyes becoming challenging. You crossed your arms once again. If he seriously thought he was going to challenge you to something—a battle of will, at best—and win, he was sorely mistaken.

“Okay, I will,” you said. “I’ll win, no problem. And not only will I win, you will lose so badly, it’ll be laughable.”

“Uh-huh, sure, whatever you say, little girl,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. Now he was just being a dick.

“We’ll see about that, little boy,” you mocked him. You got to your feet and began to head back towards the Great Hall’s entrance. Just before you got past the edge of the table, you turned back towards him.

“Oh, and Theo?”

“Yes, darling?” he replied sarcastically.

“When I win,” you smirked, “you’re going to do whatever I say in the bedroom until the end of November…you know, if you’re ‘discipline’ is so great.”

Mattheo choked on his drink once more and Pansy stifled another laugh. Enzo’s cheeks were reddened again. You all really needed to get him laid. Or maybe he already had been and was just really nervous about sexual talks. You weren’t sure.

Theo rolled his eyes and turned back to his friends. You suppressed a laugh and made your way out of the Great Hall, planning things for him to do for you all month long.

xxx

After breakfast, you spent the majority of the rest of your morning finishing up some assignments and laying your Quidditch gear out. You figured you were going to rush out of here, per usual. Your punctuality wasn’t exactly hailed as the greatest known to Wizardkind.

Your back was propped against a few of your pillows as you scanned through the assigned readings for Astrology, breezing through each chapter. You really did love that class and didn’t mind its assignments at all. It felt more like a hobby than required schoolwork.

No matter how enjoyable the material was, however, your neck started to cramp after two hours or so. You tilted it from side to side, attempting to coax a pop out of each side. Just as you were beginning to work the pops down your spine, the door to your dorm swung open. From the angle you were at, you couldn’t quite see who was at the entrance but you assumed it was one of your roommates. You mumbled a polite “hey” and continued trying to stretch yourself out. When no reply came, you leaned around the bed’s footpost and tried to locate the intruder.

To your surprise, you found Theo standing before you, rather than a roommate.

“Oh,” you smiled, “hey, baby, I was just thinking of you.” You were excited to see him but after a few seconds of watching his face and getting no response, you realize he was not smiling nor did he seem happy.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“You embarrassed me at breakfast,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Oh…,” you trailed off, staring at the floor. “I’m sorry. I don’t really see how I embarrassed you, though, it was just a joke.”

“After you left, everyone was talking about how I cum quickly, and have no control in the bedroom, and probably don’t please you.” Your eyes widened at his words.

“Aw, well that’s not true,” you spoke, placing a hand on his crossed arms in an attempt to be comforting. “I’m sorry they said those things about you, but I’m sure they were just teasing you. You have a ton of ‘discipline’ in the bedroom.” You tried your very best not to speak the word mockingly. You were trying to make him feel better, after all.

“You’re trying not to laugh!” he shouted. You definitely were.

“No, I’m not!” you scoffed. A hand slapped his crossed arms playfully. “But, honestly, Theo, what does it matter if you are or not? I like it when you’re a little helpless.” You giggled at your words. He rolled his eyes.

“What is it?” you asked in a babied voice. “Are you still embarrassed, baby?”

“I’m so annoyed with you,” he grumbled, turning away from you and facing the window. You rolled your eyes and got to your feet, standing just behind him.

“Baby, are you mad at me?” you whispered, sliding your hands around his sides and pulling him into a hug. He didn’t uncross his arms and, though you couldn’t really see his face, you were almost sure he still had that little pout plastered on.

“Yes, I thought I made that clear,” he pulled away from your hug. You scoffed at his action.

“Theo, please, it’s a dumb challenge some teenage boys came up with, and your friends teased you about cumming quickly,” you argued. “I’m pretty sure every other Hogwarts student that’s ever come through here has dealt with the same crap. It’s just stupid jokes.”

“Well, I’m still mad.” You rolled your eyes once more, suppressing a groan.

“Oh, Merlin, help me,” you sighed, falling back down onto your bed. “Are you twelve years old?”

He scoffed and glanced back at you with an annoyed glint in his eyes. You knew it probably wasn’t smart to poke the bear but you thought he was acting very stupidly. Then, with just perfect timing, a thought popped into your head.

“Theo, baby,” you cooed, leaning back on your hands, feeling your soft comforter beneath your fingers. “If you don’t want them teasing you, how about you prove how much discipline you have in the bedroom.” You bit your bottom lip and slowly spread your legs, allowing the side-eye glances he was throwing you to catch the opening against your pajama shorts. His eyes snapped back to the wall.

“Away with you, devil! I’m winning this challenge!” he joked, though the frown remained fixed against his mouth.

“Are you sure you don’t want a little something?” you teased. “I won’t tell anyone you did it—we can still say you won…”

He grunted in response. You knew you’d wear him down, eventually. This ploy was never a particularly hard one to break. He’d start claiming he didn’t want to do anything because he was mad at you or something, then you would simply sit back and let his mind convince him to redirect all thinking ability to his dick. You smirked.

“Baby, don’t you wanna come down here and fuck me?” you whispered. You leaned back up and started to slip your tank top over your head. Your chest perked up as the chill in the air fanned over you. You saw his eyes sneaking glances at you.

Your fingers pulled at the tie cinching your shorts together. It came undone swiftly, loosening the fabric that lay loosely on your hips. You hooked your thumbs in the material and slid the clothing down slowly, revealing your bare lower half to him.

“I guess I forgot to put something on under them,” you teased, spreading your legs to give him a full view of everything he was missing out on. At this point, he’d uncrossed his arms and turned more towards you. His fingers were clenching and unclenching into a fist, painting his knuckles white.

“Theo, I’m so wet,” you moaned, sliding a finger down between your legs. You cringed internally at your words, knowing that they would harass you for months to come, but you were locked in now. You said you were going to win, and you were going to fucking win.

His lips parted at the sight, his eyes fluttering just a bit. The tips of your fingers ghosted over your core, pushing little shocks of pleasure up to your chest. You gasped softly at each touch. Your eyes found his once more. You plastered on the heaviest pleading look you could manage and bit your lip. This felt stupid, but he was eating it up. Your eyes never separated as you slid a single finger into your entrance. The sound it made caused a soft groan to spill from Theo’s lips. Your lips parted in a silent moan. Your head fell back, displaying your neck and collarbones. One of Theo’s favorite things about you.

You heard an audible swallow from where he stood but refused to stop your movements. To be totally honest, you rarely pleasured yourself like this, as it didn’t do too much for you. But you figured this was just like pornography to him. Something he played in his mind when he stuck his hands beneath his trousers.

“Touch your chest…and your neck, baby,” he whispered. You followed directions so fluidly, never losing the pace you had established with your other hand. You dragged your fingers over your chest and gently gripped your throat, sneaking a peek at him every so often. His trousers were becoming painfully swollen and every once in a while his hand would come down to readjust the fabric over himself. This was working a million times better than you thought it would.

“What else, baby?” you moaned, making your voice breathless.

“Put your fingers in your mouth, please,” he groaned out. You did just that, smirking as shudders ran down his arms. His eyes fluttered closed as he began to gently palm himself every once and a while. Never enough to do any true damage, just enough to give him a little bit of a jolt.

You moved your lips and tongue over your fingers just as you would him. You even peppered in a few moans as the hand lined up with your entrance never ceased movement. You were not going to cum like this. You could do this all day…though you’d rather not. You had a few secrets shoved up your sleeve, but were saving those for last. However, considering how long the two of you had been here and how quickly Quidditch practice was approaching, you figured now was the time to pull out all of the stops.

“Please come fuck me, baby,” you whined. “Need you so bad, please, Teddy.”

Number one, he loved that nickname, and, number two, he loved when you begged for him. You figured it was part of the boy mentality, they loved being needed.

He groaned audibly, the pressure he was applying to himself intensified. He wanted to grab you and prove all of his stupid friends wrong. Half of them were probably virgins anyway, but he….he had the girl of his dreams spread out for him, needy and breathless and begging for him. Maybe this was just a stupid challenge….

That didn’t work. He barely even took a step forward. Damn it. Your fingers intensified and your mouth parted in a soft moan. You needed to use the one thing that always worked, even when he was the maddest he’d ever been. You knew what he craved to hear, though you didn’t use it often. To be honest, it sort of made you cringe, but you knew that it made him feel powerful.

“Please, I need you,” you whined. “Come fuck me, daddy…”

The hand palming himself halted and you watched, in live-action, as his eyes darkened considerably. He raised his hands to his belt buckle and made quick work of it. You giggled and leaned forward, removing your fingers from yourself. You helped him split the top of his jeans and slide them down. He shoved you back onto the bed and began to crawl over you.

“You want me this bad, baby?” he placed a rough kiss on your lips.

Your hands traced down his abdomen, feeling every taut ridge and valley. Your fingertips touched over his hipbones, across the waistband of his briefs, before slipping just beneath the material. His breath halted against your lips. Your cooled hands suddenly and beautifully wrapped around him, contrasting his intense heat with your wintery fingers. You slid your hand against him once, twice. Said his favorite name. And then he finished. With a desperate moan of your name and a clenched fist in your hair.

“Oh baby, good boy…,” you cooed and checked the time on his watch. “Really put those other guys in their place. You made it twelve hours.”

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #oneshot #reader insert #harry potter smut #slytherin #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott #enzo berkshire #mattheo riddle #pansy parkinson #smut #gender neutral reader

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thee-great-enigma · 7 months ago

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Price would only give you the slightest hint of what you really want to see in his nudes, or around the house.

M!reader

Oh you're rock hard and want to rub against his ass for some relief? He sits down on the couch for three hours, completely ignoring you.

Oh you wanna eat him out, feel the weight of his cock on your throat? He'll walk around in sweatpants that are hanging so low on his hips that you can see the salt and pepper fringe of his happy trail and the very base of his thick cock, not that the sweatpants are hiding the outline of the pretty thing. But he swats your hand away anytime you try to touch him, walls away anytime you sit on your knees and plead for him to let you touch him because you "Need to so bad, sir, please? What have I done wrong that you won't let me touch you? Just- please? I'll be good, just please- please I need it, need you so bad sir," you whine only to be shut down again and again.

You want to fiddle with his chest whether it be playing with the soft hair or lightly pinching or sucking his nipples? He'll swat your hand away, wear a thick coat, send you pictures of anything else, make sure you can't get what you want.

And of course it makes it all the sweeter when he does finally let you have your way. But he's also busy doing his own thing, watching TV or reading a book. Bonus points if he's wearing his little reading glasses on the lower bridge of his nose to see the pages of his book or even paperwork. Since you've begged so nicely, been so good for him all day, he might as well give you a little bit of relief. When he first told you to kneel in front of him, you grinned stupidly, thinking he'd finally let you use your mouth for something other than pleading for him all day.

But instead, he shoved his foot between your thighs, shin practically crushing your cock. You let out an embarrassingly high pitched noise as pleasure and a small bit of pain rushes up your spine, making you slightly dizzy for a second. Your jaw gapes as you try to register this, grappling at his thighs for purchase. He doesn't even pay you a glance, just hooked his leg under your crotch and made sure there was enough pressure to keep you short of breath.

You give an experimental buck of your hips and when he doesn't do anything about it, you keep going, keep snapping your hips forward. You find purchase in his thighs, blunt nails digging into the plush skin as shaky gasps and moans escapes your lips. You don't mind this so much, it feels good and at least he's giving you a bit of pleasure. You just wish he'd look at you.

You whine up at him, pursing your lips and tilting your eyebrows up, murmuring into the couch cushion, "Baby please– please look at me– I'm begging you lovie, just look at me. C'mon, that book/show can't be that important"

And yet the only sort of attention his gives you is a low grumbled. "Dirty horndogs like you don't need to be looked at. Go ahead and cum, I don't care, just don't make me watch you do it."

You groan as you rub your poor abandoned cock against his leg, complaining about him being "too mean". You reached up for either the remote or the book, but he swats your hand away, again no even giving you a small flicker of attention.

Woah Enigma knows how to write!!! Yeah sorry for not being active, life has been kicking my ass and motivation is a rare visitor that only likes to come when I'm busy but this time I actually finished something!

Honorable mention, @rodolfoparras a lil gift since I may or may not have participated in the train me gnome and a few others ran through your husband

#enigmas •★• obsessions #captain price #enigmas-•★•- thoughts #price cod #john price #enigmas •★• idiot babbles #enigmas •★• fics #enigmas •★• writing for once!!#price x male reader #cod x male reader #x male reader #male reader #sub male reader

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runnning-outof-time · 3 days ago

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“You Came.” “You Called.” | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Solomons Sister!Reader

Summary: Tommy Shelby and (Y/N) Solomons despise each other…….or do they?

Warnings: language, slight sexual situations, weapons, threats

Word Count: 1304

A/N: I’m sorry this isn’t as long as the others have been. I need to get these requests finished and this is what I was able to come out with. I hope you’ll still enjoy! Also I’ve tried something a little different at the end - hopefully you’ll participate and not be too mad at me for it! :)

A/N 2: Oh and this is the story where the Solomons!Sister won the poll — I’m not sure if it’s angsty enough…I tried my best with it. Also I’m sorry if Alfie seems ooc here…it’s been a bit since I’ve written him and I’m rusty.

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! — I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THE STORY!

comment/message me if you’d like to be tagged!

"You came," she sounded surprised.

"You called," his response was nonchalant.

"Yeah, but I didn't call you."

The story of Tommy Shelby and (Y/N) Solomons is a long, complicated one.

To give a quick summary: they first met the day that Tommy showed up at Alfie's 'bakery. She was the first to greet him and instantly was able to realize that there was more to his motives than what he was letting on.

She was cautious when dealing with him at first, but his charm soon enough chipped away that hesitant exterior she'd put up.

Neither could help but cross the line one late evening after a successful business dinner.

She thought that that would be the end of Tommy Shelby. But now he'd shown up at her door...when she was expecting her brother.

"Where's my brother?" (Y/N) asked, looking to either side of the doorway, hoping that Alfie would be close by.

He wasn't.

"He's busy," Tommy answered.

"So he sent you?" she asked, her brows furrowed.

"Not exactly," he shook his head.

"I'm not understanding what you're saying. Ollie told me that he'd take a note down for Alfie and that he'd inform him as soon as he became available." (Y/N) was confused now.

"I saw the note," he began, "took it upon myself to see what was needed to be discussed."

(Y/N)'s jaw just about dropped. "Tommy, why did you...would you, you shouldn't, you..."

"My name was on the note, love," he cut off her attempt to string words together.

"Just because it was on the note does not mean you were to be involved!" she couldn't stop her voice from raising, her eyes widening as she spoke. Now she was wondering how Ollie had phrased his note to Alfie. A few beats passed before a sigh escaped her lips. She ran a frustrated hand across her face before asking, "what...what did the note say?" Her thoughts had gotten the best of her.

"It said that you needed to speak about Shelby...had some information you wanted to be made known," he answered her, his eyes boring into hers. (Y/N) opened her mouth to say something but he didn't let her, taking a step inside, making her back up in the process. "What is it you wanted to tell him, hmm?"

His close proximity made her heartrate increase. She was quickly losing her ability to think. "Tommy, I..."

"What really was your goal last night, (Y/N)?" he asked her, his brows raising.

The willpower to keep her hands by her sides and not reach out to take hold of him was leaving (Y/N) by the second.

"I thought your intentions aligned with mine..." he trailed off, raising his hand so that he could run it down her jawline in a slow, teasing manner, "at least it seemed that way when you brought me back here."

Instead of dropping his hand when he reached her chin, he grasped it; taking it between his thumb and index finger so that he could raise her fleeing eyes to match his. This action made the breath get caught in (Y/N)'s throat, and every valid argument left her mind the second her eyes locked onto his icy blue ones. All hope was lost now.

"What are your intentions with me, (Y/N)?" he asked her.

"You know them, Tommy, I.." she couldn't quite string a thought together.

"Tell me."

"I.." she paused again, interally freaking out. Think of something, anything, (Y/N), come on! "I wanted to tell him about you...about us," she decided on telling him a lie, hoping that he would take it as the truth.

"Yeah?"

She couldn't decipher what he was truly thinking from his one word response. His widened eyes didn't help either, other than making her fall deeper into his trap with each second that passed. Now she was wracking her brain to think of ways to sell this.

The last thing she wanted to tell him was that she was going to sell him out...to tell Alfie what she felt his true intentions were.

"Yeah," she breathed, nodding her head as much as she could with his fingers still holding her chin. Sell it, (Y/N)!, her mind screamed before she raised her hands up to grip his lapels. All coherent thoughts flew out the window as she leaned in and kissed him.

This wasn't a loving kiss. It wasn't a slow one, unlike the ones they shared last night. She kissed him hard, hoping that the passion she put into it would be enough to get his mind off of the damn note and seal her lie for good.

His hold tightened on her chin, but he didn't break the kiss. In fact, his other hand moved from his side to her hip, where he began bunching up her skirt in order to make contact with her bare skin.

Success.

(Y/N) also became absorbed by the passion that they both were showing. It was hard not to given the fact that he was Tommy Shelby. The night they shared was one of the best she'd ever had. Conniving business man or not, she would remember it for the rest of her life.

"What in the bloody fucking hell is going on here?!"

What (Y/N) did not remember before getting sucked into this situation was to shut the door to her home.

Her eyes shot open and she became frantic, trying to break the kiss and move away from Tommy as quick as she could. "Alfie!" she shrieked, surprise clear on her face.

"Why're you fucking kissing my sister, mate?!" Alfie asked Tommy, speaking with a seething anger.

While (Y/N) was just about shaking from the shock of her brother showing up, Tommy didn't seem to be phased.

"Alfie he...he was just..."

"No," Alfie cut (Y/N) off, shaking his head and stopping her attempt to cover for the man now standing beside her, "I asked him not you. He knows family is off-fucking-limits, so I want him to answer me why."

Tommy said nothing. (Y/N) shrunk into herself more and more with each passing second. She'd never seen Alfie this angry.

"I said fucking answer me!" Alfie bellowed, drawing the revolver he had tucked into his waistband. He wasted no time in cocking it and holding it in Tommy's face.

Tommy still didn't move; didn't even flinch.

"You're going to fucking answer me," Alfie demanded, his voice low and menacing, "yeah, you're going to fucking answer me or it'll be your fucking brains blown out all over (Y/N)'s fucking foyer."

"Alfie, don't," (Y/N) begged her brother, reaching a shaky hand out in hopes that he would see it and lower his weapon.

"She called for you," Tommy spoke, his voice level and stoic.

"She fucking what?" Alfie asked, his brows furrowing slightly, confused by why Tommy was saying this.

“She called your office. You weren’t around. But my name was on the note,” Tommy shared more details.

“And what does that have fucking anything to do with you fucking kissing my sister?!” Alfie’s anger had returned.

“It has everything to do with it,” Tommy was still level-headed. “You see, she was going to tell you about this, about us,” he then dropped the bomb, motioning between himself and (Y/N) to emphasize the point he was making.

“I can explain,” (Y/N) was quick to blurt out, her eyes trained on the gun in Alfie’s hand, which he’d - thankfully - lowered from being aimed at Tommy’s head.

She couldn’t read the look in her brother’s eyes. The seconds felt like hours as they passed. She stood frozen as Alfie rose the revolver again and…….

Ok I’m evil, I know but……..

Don’t fret, if the poll’s closed by the time you’re reading this, you’re still more than welcome (and I’d encourage you, actually) to share what you think would happen next!!

p.s….this story won’t be getting continued. I’m just curious as to what y’all think.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @mischievouslittlecreature @stevie75

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@dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety

@justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader

@red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

@ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo @novashelby

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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itsnathateasy · 1 month ago

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armin being oblivious

word count: 1,2k warnings: angst author’s note: this had been in my head for so long time! (ps: i remember seeing the jeans/legs idea on tiktok but didn’t save the link, if you’ve also seen the vid lmk so i can include the reference!) ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

oblivious!armin breaks his own heart by never catching up to your hints. he tries his hardest to endure seeing you flirting with other people and to deal with your constant teasing him, because he really has no clue you’re head over heels for him

you once invited him over late at night for netflix and chill, but his response is “nothing good on netflix nowadays” followed by “besides it’s getting late, rain check for friday?” was this boy living under a rock or something?

oblivious!armin sees how you treat him nicely or even special in some occasions, like how you always text him goodmorning/goodnight or how you order his favourite pastry for him when you’re meeting for coffee, maybe even how you notice his shirt is buttoned the wrong way, so you unbutton it to do it right, to shy to meet each others gaze as you do so

however, but oblivious!armin justifies it all by how good friends you are and how you’ve been super close for such a long time, it’s only natural that you do special things for each other, right?

oblivious!armin once compliments your jeans while you’re both drunk at jean’s party, slurring how “your legs look so damn good in those jeans” and you playfully respond with “well, you should’ve seen me without them!”, giggling and laughing

needless to say armin’s face dropped to the floor, baby boy was so confused

“did i say something wrong armin? what happened? thought we were having fun?” you ran your hand on his shoulder, caressing him

“why would you cut off your legs, y/n, wtf? this is your final drink for the night!” he grabbed onto you hand, pulling you away from the crowd and heading outside. he later even checked you everywhere to make sure you’re not hurt and tried to and carry you home, but he was so drunk you both ended up on the floor.

“armin, in my humble opinion, it’s you who’s had too many drinks”

oblivious!armin is always going the extra mile for you, helping you with little things that you’d need done during the day, he’d send you reminders for your groceries or that doctor’s appointment you mentioned you couldn’t skip

oblivious!armin was being so overprotective, even though he’d never admit this true motives behind his actions to you. he keeps tabs on all the people who approach you at parties and makes sure to intervene if you seem uncomfortable, snaking his arm around your waist and kissing you on the temple because “jean is expecting us, y/n, we should go” as he pulls you away from whatever guy was being too pushy

“sorry about earlier, y/n, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but you looked like you needed a way out”

“you can’t really think i was flirting with that guy, right armin?”

“why wouldn’t i think that? he looks kinda cute… if only he weren’t being this pushy”

“armin, i’m gonna hold your hand as i say this, but i’d been eyeing YOU. the entire time”

“i know, and that’s why i came to the rescue!” he closed the distance between you by kissing your temple once again. “couldn’t leave my best friend in that awful situation any longer” he pulled back and smiled brightly at you

“are we really though? best friends?” you stared at him, trying to smile at him and play nonchalant, but failed miserably, your smile turning into a crooked frown.

“of course we are, y/n!” he pulled you into his arms and hugged you tight. “don’t question that”

that was the cherry on top of the cake for you. you’d finally had enough with how oblivious armin was being. you realised you’d have to give it to him plain and simple cause that boy wasn’t comprehending shit.

a few days later, you were on your way to brunch with armin, connie, jean and sasha, you were walking behind them with armin, sasha in between the two boys, trying to prevent them from punching each other over a joke.

you reach your hand to hold armin’s and wait for him to react. he doesn’t. he’s simply rubbing circles with him thumb on the outer side of your palm.

you felt your cheeks flush up as you side-eyed armin to see the reaction on his face, only to find him side-eyeing you. holding back a chuckle, you smile at each other, continuing your way to your brunch spot.

once you walk inside the store, you’re all spreading around, looking for the best spot to fit all five of you, and sasha notices you both holding hands when she turns around to ask “do you prefer by the window or by the-” her sentence cut short as realisation filled her eyes.

“i’ll go get the others to that table on the balcony! meet us soon, but not too soon in case… you know… want to be alone… or something...” she even had the nerve to wink at you!

you exchanged a meaningful look with armin, not yet addressing the little situation you had going on for yourselves, and walked behind sasha, over to the table she’d picked out.

the brunch date went smoothly, you had your sit next to armin, as per usual, and you were still being very accommodating for each other, which wasn’t uncommon either. sasha giggling at the pair of you was uncommon. she was being a real nightmare and making you both really awkward, but you didn’t say anything, you knew she meant no harm and was honestly excited about you.

you were so thankful the others never noticed how armin would rest his palm on your thigh, softly moving it up and down in a swift motion, or how you often placed your arm behind his back, moving yourself closer to him, because “your previous posture became painful”.

do i need to repeat that sasha behaved like a kid on a ferris wheel?

“you should really cut down on caffeinated drinks, sasha, you’re almost resembling that squirrel from “hoodwinked”, connie remarked, earning him a great laugh from the rest of you.

at the end of the date, armin and you split from the group as he offered to walk you back home (sasha asked you to “take care” and winked, connie and jean giving her some inquiring looks).

you reached your door sooner than you’d like, but before you could turn around to say anything, armin cupped your face and kissed you and god knows how long you’d been longing for that kiss, that turned deeper and warmer the more you kept your lips attached to each other.

you parted from the kiss after what felt like a sweet eternity, but was probably only a couple of minutes, both breathless, cheeks turning pink.

“today was rather… overwhelming, but do you maybe wanna meet tomorrow and… talk? about us, i mean?” he asked you nervously, fidgeting with his fingers.

“sure thing, armin! i’ll text you in the morning!” and with that, you said your goodbyes (it was "one more kiss, and one more, and one more, and one final kiss, pleeease, y/n!") and you walked upstairs to your apartment.

(I ALMOST DIED OF ANGST, I DIDN’T WRITE THIS POST, THIS POST WROTE ME)

#shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot #attack on titan #armin arlert #mine #armin aot #armin x reader #oblivious armin #armin x y/n #armin arlert au #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert x you #aot x reader #aot x y/n #armin fluff #armin arlert fanfiction #armin arlert x y/n #itsnathateasy wrote this!

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little-diable · 10 months ago

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Cassiopeia – Draco Malfoy (smut)

Once again some pwp for lovely Draco. Just pure filth, but I ain't sorry. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader and Draco love stargazing as he fucks her ruthlessly

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, creampie, somewhat outdoor sex, gagging, dirty talk, spanking, pwp

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (1k words)

The air was chilly, the breeze wrapped itself around the two, stroking their exposed limbs. But neither Draco nor (y/n) cared about the goosebumps littering their skin, eyes focused on the dark sky above. He had his arm wrapped around her waist, keeping his girlfriend pressed to his chest, finger pointed up to the sky, mouth pressed to her ear to whisper his words.

“You see that up there? That’s Cassiopeia, looks like a slightly shifted w.” Draco’s breath was warm against (y/n)’s skin, leaving her shuddering as he tightened his grip on her, not daring to give her a chance to move away from him. (Y/n) could only nod, barely paying attention to the constellations Draco kept pointing out to her, too focused on the feeling of his body pressed against hers. “I can hear your thoughts racing, what are you thinking of, darling?”

Her tongue ran along her lower lip, she could still taste the kiss they had shared a few moments ago, and yet she was craving another, the drug she had been addicted to ever since their first kiss. She turned around in Draco’s grasp, staring up at her boyfriend with a soft smile playing on her lips, “Kiss me, Draco.”

He didn’t protest, tilted his head down to kiss her breathless, fingertips digging into her waist. The kiss was dripping with hunger, lust, and anticipation, desperate to give in to their every longing. Draco shifted them around, and pushed (y/n) against the wall as he pressed his front even closer, choking on a raspy “The things you’re doing to me will kill me one day, sweetness.”

She whimpered his name, feeling his growing bulge pressing against her heat, once again needy for his girlfriend. Her fingers wandered down to his trousers, undoing the button skillfully, grinning in success the second she touched him through the fabric of his black boxer shorts. The smirk he shot her left (y/n) shuddering, knowing that he’d take what he was craving for, not sparing her any mercy.

Draco turned her around, pushing her against the wall, eyes directed up at the dark sky as he pushed her dress up to her waist, groaning at the feeling of her damp panties. Within moments he had her cunt bare, fingers brushing through her slit before he brought them up to his mouth, groaning at her taste, “You taste so sweet, baby. You look just as beautiful as Cassiopeia once did, but I’ll never let you out of my grasp, that much I can promise.”

Her eyes found the constellation once again, remembering the story of how Poseidon had forced Cassiopeia to sacrifice her daughter, how she had been placed in the sky upside down for some parts of the year. A tragic fate that made (y/n)'s heart feel heavier, momentarily distracted by Draco’s wandering fingers, only ripped out of her trance as he pushed into her from behind.

The moan that clawed through (y/n) sounded almost painful, still not used to taking his size, still not used to the way her body seemed to cling to him till the end of their time. Draco forced his cock deeper into her with every thrust from behind, eyes watching his cock disappear in her tightness with his signature smirk glued to his lips. Her moans rang in his ears, paired with his groans leaving him whenever she clenched around his cock.

“God, fuck.” Her curses roared through the night as if she was the one mourning Cassiopeia’s tragic fate, not daring to rip her gaze from the sky. Yet her thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of Draco’s pace momentarily faltering, wondering what he was doing, gasping in surprise as he forced her mouth open, shutting her up with her ripped panties shoved past her teeth.

“Stars, can’t attract any attention now can we? And God knows you can’t be quiet, drunk on my cock.” He rasped his words into her ear, picking up his ruthless pace once again, hips meeting her behind. (Y/n) groaned against the fabric, torn between annoyance of being shut up and the excitement his words had pushed through her. “Already clenching ‘round my cock, huh? Such an easy girl.”

Her eyes rolled back into her head as his hand came down on her ass, leaving marks with a proud grin tugging on his thin lips. Draco knew that she’d cum any second, riled up by their making out, the things he had whispered to her earlier, already looking forward to fucking her here.

“It’s alright, cum for me, baby, make a mess on my cock.” She moaned at his words, and even though her sounds were somewhat silenced by her panties, he could still pick up on them. Draco fucked her through her high, groaning at the feeling of her walls fluttering around him, prolonging her orgasm with his ruthless pace.

(Y/n) felt him twitch, cumming inside of her, imprinting himself on her walls. He pulled out of her slowly, groaning at the sight of his cum leaking from her cunt. A surprised moan left (y/n) as she felt his hand brushing through her folds, spreading his cum on her skin, once again growing excited even though he had let go only a few moments ago.

With trembling fingers she pulled her panties out of her mouth, chuckling as Draco took them from her, making them disappear in the pocket of his trousers, “We’re not done yet, turn back around for me, love.”

#Draco Malfoy smut #Draco Malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy imagine #Harry Potter smut

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tashid4 · 2 months ago

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I literally ran over here cuz I just saw a clip of a hiphop dancer and ballet dancer dancing together for the olympics and I'm like OHH??

Perchance hiphop dancer!bakugou and ballet!reader???? I WANT TO KNOW UR THOUGHTS.

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. PLS THIS JUST AWAKENED SMTH IN ME

(SORRY IF THIS TOO LONG???)

You were often training a bit later than the other dancer. You were a perfectionist, your moves needed to be clean, smooth and precise. Ballet was intransigent, one mistake could ruin all of your efforts. That is why you were still in the dancing, you've been in here for hours now and the sun had already set. You did so many pirouettes that your head was spinning. So many jumps your feet were bleeding. But it still wasn't enough. You needed to be perfect. After a particularly hard spin you fall to the ground, your body not able to handle the pressure. Your body couldn't handle the effort your brain wanted to make.

"Damn, that was definitely interesting" a voice came out of nowhere. It was a bit mocking but the tone of his voice made you curious. Deep and cold, you could feel all his confidence through his voice. You turn around to see where the voice was coming from. That is when you first laid your eyes on him. His blonde messy hair were stooding out in the darkness of the room. His cherry red eyes were locked on you and you were scared they might see through the deepest places of your soul. He was way too relaxed compared to you.

"Are you done ? I want to train" it kinda surprised you because you never saw him before. You were here everyday and you know everyone. Moreover, he definitely didn't look like the type to do ballet but you could be wrong. "Oh yeah sorry. I'm leaving" "Good."

You start to pick up your stuff and finally take off your pointe shoes. Since when have you been wearing them ? Probably a few hours now. While you put your things back into your bag, the blonde haired boy

settled in front of the mirror. He was wearing a black tank top, revealing his surprisingly muscular back. And a baggy jean which fell perfectly on his ankles. You couldn't look away from him. There was something about him that made you admiring, it was almost obsessing. When the first notes of music sounded and his body began to move, your jaw almost dropped. It was the first time you saw someone dance like this. Every move was perfect, coordinated but most of all it was passionate. It was almost as if he he didn't have to think about the next step.

At the end of the song, you realised you had been sitting on the floor for almost 5 minutes, not moving an inch, your eyes focused on him. When he noticed you were still here, a smirk appeared on his face.

"Like what you see?" your cheeks immediately turn red. Of course you liked it how could you not. The way he danced was absolutely mesmerizing. He music started again and he went back to his choreography. You had to summon up all your motivation to get up and leave the room, and not only because your feet were hurting like crazy...

For several days afterwards, you trained until your feet were bleeding, until your legs were shaking and until the hiphop boy was back in the room. He was always coming really late, when everybody had already left. It was only you and him at this time of the night. But but your conversations are always very brief. It was only a few words and often it was only him making fun of you for training too hard. But one night, he decided to come earlier. He wanted to see you dance, he wanted to see you really dance. Because everytime, when he entered the room you were too exhausted to perform a simple choreography. He was dying to see your true potential. That is why he showed up at 8pm, bag on his shoulder, when you had just started rehearsing your pirouettes. When he saw you spin like this, he immediately understood why you were so tired every night. They were perfect. The way your legs and arms move was so graceful he'd think you were an angel. He studied you for a very long time, never getting sick of it. He doesn't know why his chest feels so weird, why his heart feels so full when he looks at you dancing with your sheer white skirt.

After a moment you finally realise he's here, you deduce that it's time for you to leave. "I'm sorry. I'm leaving." But when you start to head toward your bag, he grabs your wrist. Your heart skips a beat when you feel his hands against your skin. They're soft, and strong at the same time.

"Wait..."

He went to turn the music back on. When the first notes were heard, both your bodies began to move in rhythm. Your moves where slow, controlled and elegant. His were strong, fast and unpredictable. It was so different yet so similar. Your two bodies sometimes touched, in which case he'd grab your hand and spin you around like you were the most beautiful thing he ever saw. You danced like this for a while, disconnecting your brain, all you could think about was his body moving in time with yours.

When the music stop, you look into his red eyes, losing yourself in it. "Where did you learn to dance like that ?" your question made him smile "I never learned, it's just something i like to do" "I wish I could be as talented as you without needing to train like crazy." He let lout a small laugh, amused by your response. Your faces were only a few inches away and he couldn't prevent his heart from beating way too fast when looking at your eyes. "You don't have to train so hard, just let your body express itself."

"There's actually something my body wants to do, but i'm not sure if it's reasonable" Your tone and the look in your eyes changed when pronouncing this last sentence. Mentally debating with yourself, you were thinking about your next move. Your heart was racing and your face was growing red.

But in the end, the blonde haired boy didn't give you time to think about it. He grabbed the back of your neck and gently glued his lips to yours. Kissing you, silencing all the voices in your head.

#mha #bnha #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugo fluff #mha fluff

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takenbypeter · 11 months ago

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Hii! I just saw Wonka for the first time and I loved it, everything was soo good I’d love to request something. Could I request something with Wonka x fem!(or gn)reader in which reader comforts him after everything goes wrong with his shop? He was so sad and it broke my heart when he said that his mum didn’t show up and everything was just a stupid dream, I wanted to give him a hug so bad. Feel free to ignore this if it doesn’t inspire you ofc, have a great day 💞

I Believe In You

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 658

Love love love this request💖sorry I suck at angst but I hope you still like it

None of you could’ve ever predicted what just took place.

Melted chocolate and burned candies surrounded all around as you stood there in disbelief.

The crowd that quickly grew to love Wonka’s chocolates turned on them just as quickly. All because of something that wasn’t even his fault.

You, along with the few others who helped, stood, unsure where to go from here. Noodle ran to Wonka trying her best to motivate him, but Abacus gently encouraged her to give him some time before he left. Then Piper left, and one by one the others followed.

You stuck close to them, about to take your own departure and leave the chocolatier to his own thinkings, but you stopped in your tracks giving it another thought. You couldn’t just leave him there. It wouldn’t be right.

So back you walked and you parked yourself beside him.

You sat there noiseless, as you were unconfident of your next words. What do you say to a man who’s lost so much.

“Willy this is just a minor setback,” you start.

“No it’s not. This all is just some stupid dream and it didn’t even work. She didn’t even show up.”

Your brows furrowed together, the crease between them deepening. You know grief is difficult and different for everyone, no one reacts the same way and you knew Willy truly believed his mother would appear. Although you didn’t know Willys mother personally it broke your heart to see him like this.

“She wouldn’t break a promise,” he whispered more to himself with his eyes downcast.

You made a little, hm, noise pondering on your next words, “…maybe this wasn’t the time.”

Willy’s eyes finally raise, meeting yours and although they still hold emptiness in them you can spot the tiniest glint of curiosity.

“Think about it. Things went wrong, horribly wrong. I mean it could not have gone any more wrong,” you said getting louder with every sentence and Willy couldn’t help but spit out a single self deprecating laugh at how true your words were.

“So maybe this wasn’t the time…we try again and when things are right it will happen,” you say sounding more positive than you expected yourself to be, “she will be there. Maybe not in the way you think, but she’ll be there.”

“And what if she’s not.”

“And what if she is.” You said raising your brow in questioning. He seems to mull your comments over.

“If not for yourself, do it for Abacus. Do it for Piper; Chucklesworth, Lottie, Noodle…do it for me. You have touched all of our hearts. You make us believe in our own dreams because you’re so passionate about yours. Even if you have to start everything all over again we will be right there starting over with you. So just…don’t give up. Please.”

Willy peers up at you, his expression still disheartened. He knew you meant well and he appreciated you for that. It did help to know he had a group of capable people following behind him.

Willy loved making chocolate, that is a fact that would never change. The way his chocolate affects people is beyond all imagination. But to start over, especially after he disappointed you all. He wasn’t entirely sure if he could do that again.

You wait patiently as he sits there in thought. “Willy,” your hand rests on his giving it an assuring squeeze. “I will be right here with you.”

Willy finally expresses an appreciative smile while he turns his hand in yours, squeezing it back.

With his cheeks a bit rosy from either the embarrassment he felt or the warmth of encouragement you gave him, he says, “it’ll take some time.”

You nod, “then it’ll take some time, that’s fine. Whatever you need.”

Willy didn’t know exactly how it would all workout but he could tell you truly believed it to be true and because of that…he started to believe it too.

Feel free to request more Wonka pics I love this man!!!!!

#willy wonka x reader #willy wonka fanfic #willy wonka fanfiction #wonka x reader #wonka fanfic #wonka fanfiction #wonka 2023

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velocesainz · 1 year ago

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Hey lovely, F1 idea with either Lando or Charles for you. Them coming home after being away a while and going to the fridge for a snack, only to find things you normally hate in there. Because you’re pregnant but you haven’t told anyone yet 🫠

A/n: Hope you enjoy, I’m sorry if this was a little short for your liking

Cravings

F1 masterlist | Main masterlist |

Summary: Lando doesn’t know you’re pregnant and comes home from f1 to find the most random foods in the fridge. What is his reaction? This is kinda short don’t mind

Warnings: none, super fluffy, very slight angst

Pairing: Lando x pregnant!fem!reader

Y/n pov:

I came home with a bunch of groceries, most of them my pregnancy cravings and started putting the foods away.

Lando doesn’t know that I’m pregnant and I’m kinda scared to tell him. How will he react?

We never had a conversation about having kids before so I don’t even know if he wants kids or not.

Lando should be home in another few days so I better make a plan fast.

I put a hand on my barely visible baby bump. “It’ll all be ok baby, don’t worry”

A few days later:

Lando pov:

Finally I’m home! This season was fun but the break is going to be even better!

I can spend my time with y/n and maybe I can tell her about wanting to have kids

I’m at a decent level in my career and we are old enough to have kids, also I had baby fever from looking at Carlos’s niece and can’t stop imagining how y/n would look pregnant.

She would look really hot.

I came home and dropped my bag on the table walking into the house.

I called out to y/n but didn’t hear a response, she’s probably not home.

I felt really hungry so I opened the fudge but the contents inside really surprised me.

Pickles, peanut butter, cheesecake…

These are all foods that y/n hates with an absolute passion. Why is it in the fridge then? Was somebody over when I wasn’t around?

That can’t be possible! Y/n would tell me if someone came over, plus with how much she works there is no way she would even allow a visitor because she would fear that she wouldn’t be a good host.

Just then I heard the front door open and heard y/ns sweet voice that I’ve been dying to hear for the past 2 weeks. “Lando are you home? I’m back!”

I closed the fridge and ran to hug her tight.

“I missed you so much baby. I’m sorry I couldn’t come to the last few races.” She told me.

“I missed you more than you can imagine love. Also don’t worry about not coming to my races, just knowing you are watching me is enough motivation to do well in my races” I said to her causing her to blush, why is she so goddamn cute?

“I have one question, why are there pickles and cheesecake in the fridge? Me and you both don’t like them” I asked her. Her eyes widened in fear.

“Uh I uh…” she stuttered.

“It’s ok love, you can tell me no matter what it is” I said to try and ease her nerves.

“Ok…but just know that I understand if you want to leave me after what I tell you” she said with her down.

What? Did she cheat on me or something?

“I uhm..I’m pregnant” she said and backed away.

I was going to be a father. WAIT WHAT? IM GOING TO BE A FATHER!!

I immediately hugged her right and I felt a wet patch on my hoodie.

“You’re not mad?” She asked me with her big doe eyes staring straight into mine.

“Of course not love! I’ve always wanted to be a father, I’m sorry if I never told you before” I told her and watched as she breathed a huge sigh of relief and hugged me tighter.

“I’ll make sure that this baby has the best and most safe love with my favourite lady in the world” I said as we hugged each other tightly and stayed there for a while.

The next few months are sure going to be eventful.

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #f1 angst #lando x reader #lando smut #lando imagine #lando norris angst #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic

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pedropascallme · 9 months ago

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Wreck and Resurrect

Pairing: Damien Haas x f!Reader

Summary: “It wasn’t that you went out of your way to be disobedient—it wasn’t as if you had to obey at all, point blank, period. You had your own life, your own responsibilities, and Damien was well aware of that; he would never try to hinder your ability to go about your day. But when he spoke like that, voice tinged with an edge of dominance as he put you in your place, even jokingly, and then when it got to the point where he acted on it...”

Content: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v sex, sexting, brattamer!Damien, like full on dom!Damien, oral (m & f receiving), teasing, degradation, praise, choking, use of a belt where a belt does NOT need to be used, mild dacryphilia? If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: Hi! So this is definitely...porn. I re-read and edited and added and took away so much from this fic that at this point it feels like gibberish to me. But I hope you guys enjoy it!!

You woke up before Damien’s alarm. It went off the same time every morning, and you had started to anticipate it even in your sleep—a Pavlovian response to the consistency.

You liked the routine; the way you woke up to his face every day, the way he wiped the sleep from his eyes before rubbing his chin, silently debating whether or not he wanted to shave. And then he would turn over, check to see whether or not you were awake with him.

“I’m sorry,” he turned off the alarm on his phone and rolled back over to kiss you. “Go back to sleep.”

Today, you pulled him closer, keeping him flush against you and deepening the morning kiss he offered. “Don’t want you to go.”

“I’d be a little concerned if you did.” He smiled against your mouth, letting you embrace him. His skin was warm, heated by a night spent pressed against you under the comforter. “I gotta get up, baby.”

“No.” You tightened your arms around his midriff, and he laughed.

“C’mon, don’t be a brat,” his voice, still gravelly and laced with sleep, made the words go straight to your core; it was never too early to want him. “I have a short day. Then I’m all yours.”

“I’m not being a brat.” Your gaze met his, and you frowned. “How short?”

“Just a few hours,” he untangled himself from you, getting out of bed. You watched him stretch, blushing at how the muscles in his back flexed when he rolled his shoulders. “You think you can be good until I’m home?” He smiled, teasing, leaning over you and brushing strands of hair from your face. He tucked it behind your ear, then cupped your face in his hand and let his thumb trace your cheek bone.

You weren’t sure why you felt so needy for him this morning, but you leaned into his touch as soon as his palm made contact with your skin. “I’ll be good.” You grabbed his hand, kissing it, “I promise.”

His smile widened, bending down to kiss you again before turning away to get dressed.

~~~

Hours after Damien had left for work, you found the motivation to get out of bed—motivation that took the form of cats in absolutely dire need of attention—and tried to go about your day. You ran errands, did some work of your own, made a breakfast worthy of the Mythical Kitchen (on a good day); but, Christ almighty, were you bored. There was something missing, and it was making you antsy.

You hadn’t forgotten to do anything—everything on your checklist was in proper order, crossed out and completed. So why did it feel like you were neglecting something?

Damien’s words from earlier that morning echoed through your head.

“Don’t be a brat.”

Ah.

The final piece of the puzzle.

It wasn’t that you went out of your way to be disobedient—it wasn’t as if you had to obey at all, point blank, period. You had your own life, your own responsibilities, and Damien was well aware of that; he would never try to hinder your ability to go about your day. But when he spoke like that, voice tinged with an edge of dominance as he put you in your place, even jokingly, and then when it got to the point where he acted on it...

You loved that kind of attention. You knew exactly where pushing him in the right places would get you. And if Damien thought you were being a brat, then you’d capitalize off of that.

You picked up your phone and fired off a brief message to him.

💬How’s work?

While you waited for a reply, you stripped down from your daytime clothes, rummaging through his dresser to find suitable attire to enact your plan. Your phone dinged when you found the right shirt, as if on cue.

💬Lots of busy work. How has your day been?

It was like he was serving you the opportunity on a silver platter.

💬Pretty good. I miss you.

You stood in front of the full body mirror on the wall; Damien’s shirt hit the midpoint of your thighs, and you pulled it up ever so slightly to reveal the perfect amount of skin.

You took a picture and hit send.

💬Found your soft shirt that I like! Highlight of my day.

You watched intently as the bubbles of his forming message popped up on screen, then disappeared, then popped up again. You laughed silently.

💬Spencer almost saw that.

You smirked.

💬Ask him if he wants another look.

💬You are in so much fucking trouble.

You took another picture, this time leaning on the bed, legs spread just enough to give the camera a glimpse of the naked space between your thighs.

Send.

💬For what? I’m just showing you how pretty I look in your clothes.

For the second time, you watched him start typing, then stop, then start again.

💬Brat.

You smiled at the message.

~~~

You stayed like that for the next hour; lounging in bed in his shirt and waiting for him to get home. When you heard the lock on the door click, you shot out of bed.

Padding out of the bedroom and down the hall, you expected at least a kiss before the inevitable punishment that awaited you, but all you got was Damien’s cold gaze.

“Knees.”

You tried to wrap your arms around him, a lazy attempt to play dumb as to what it was that had made him so fierce. He let you hang off of him momentarily before pulling you off and gripping your jaw in one hand.

“I said get on your knees.”

You did as you were told.

“Fuck’s gotten into you today, princess?” He smiled down at you, but the kindness that was usually there had been replaced by something primal. “Thought you said you’d be good.”

“I was good.” You managed, shifting your weight, trying to give your knees some relief on the hardwood floor.

Damien laughed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You really think so?”

“I was good.” You reiterated, fully aware that you were still acting like a brat, but trying to see just how deep a hole you could dig yourself into.

That was half the fun.

“No, you weren’t,” he stated, “Tell me.”

You stared up at him, the ghost of a smile on your lips. You stayed quiet.

You watched Damien sigh, exhaling for as long as it took him to shuck off his coat and throw it onto an armchair behind him.

“You gonna keep playing like this?” He asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek. You couldn’t hide your smile any longer.

He undid his belt, folding it gently and holding it out for you. “Hold it.”

You took it, running your fingers over the leather. He undid his zipper.

“That’s fine. Keep playing.” He ran a hand through his hair before reaching down to remove his cock from the confines of his pants, “But you know what brats get.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a warning. You watched him fist his cock, and admired the way he seemed almost uninterested in his own movements despite the fact that you knew how much he was looking forward to this.

“Spit.” He commanded, and you let a strand of saliva fall on the tip of his cock; your lips parted, waiting for your cue. Damien pumped himself, aided by your spit, and after a moment tapped his cock to your lips. You set the belt down haphazardly on your lap while trying to stabilize yourself by putting a hand on his thigh.

“Did I say to put it down?” He tsked at you. You shook your head. “Use your fucking words. Did I tell you that you could put it down?”

“No.”

“So pick it up.” You did, growing achier by the second at the way you were positioned under him, but too excited to care.

“C’mon,” he refocused your attention, “Open wide.” You did, letting your tongue poke out over your bottom lip, and he pushed into you. You gagged when he hit the back of your throat, and when you made eye contact with him, he was smiling. “Didn’t think I was going to be nice after your little performance today, did you?” You tried to shake your head, but he wasn’t impressed. “Words.”

Your muffled response sent vibrations up his spine, and he stroked your hair. “That’s it. Gonna let me fuck your face? Let me use you like a slut since you wanna act like one?” Again, your words were muted around his cock, and Damien growled at the image of you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him.

He pulled you back by the hair, intent on staying still and watching you put in the work. He let you take a deep breath before he pushed you back down. Tears sprung from your eyes when you choked on him. You squeezed the belt in your hands tighter as he held you down.

“Are you crying, princess?” He cooed, keeping his cock pressed deep down your throat. “I thought this is what you wanted, baby. Didn’t you want attention?” He pulled you off of him and watched intently at the way you gasped for air, drool coating your lips and chin.

“Want—want you to fuck me.” You pleaded, voice hoarse from the strain his cock had put on your throat.

“Yeah?” He brushed a stray tear from your cheek, bending down momentarily and bringing his voice to a low whisper. “I don’t care what you want.” It sounded so sincere, and you couldn’t help but whine at the words as they left his mouth.

He straightened back up to his full height, and you opened your mouth without being asked this time.

“You wanna be a good girl for me now?” He all but laughed when he saw what you were doing. You nodded, and he let you lick a stripe up the underside of his cock before you took it back into your mouth. “Little late for that, don’t you think?” He smiled. “Belt,” he beckoned, and you handed it to him. He removed his hand from your hair, opting instead to keep you against his body with his belt by looping it behind your head and pulling with both hands. This time, he pushed you all the way down onto him. Your nose pressed against him, and you spluttered while he watched on.

“You can do it,” he moaned at the feeling of your mouth around the base of his cock, “Just a little longer baby, you can do it.” He reiterated. “Look at me—hey, look at me, princess. I’m counting down from ten.”

He started his countdown. Your face was wet with tears and spit, and you could feel your thighs growing sticky. You tried to shift your weight again, maybe offer yourself a little friction, a moment to appreciate how genuinely turned on you were by his actions, but the look he shot you as he reached six on the countdown made you stop dead, frozen under his gaze as you attempted to be good for him.

When he got to one, he dropped the belt, and you heard the buckle clang against the floor. He pulled you off of him, hand once again wrapping around your jaw as he leaned down, meeting you half-way to kiss you. It was heated, passionate, and you loved how his tongue flicked into you as if he was trying to taste himself on your lips.

“Knew you could do it.” You keened under his praise, raising your arms and wrapping them around his shoulders. He let you stay on him this time, and you thought maybe you had proven yourself to be the good girl you said you were. He lifted you up, carrying you to the bedroom.

When he put you down, you immediately started to undress; it didn’t take long, still only wearing his shirt, but once it was off you crawled across the mattress to him. You tugged at his clothes, trying to get him to strip along with you. Damien moved slowly, paying no mind to your whines as you grabbed at the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his boxers. He stretched out on the bed, and you moved to straddle him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked.

“Please, Damien—want you to fuck me.” You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, hoping that your saccharine display would convince him of the fact that you were ready to be good.

“Didn’t I already tell you that I don’t care what you want?” He whispered, lips mere millimeters away from your ear when he pushed his cheek against your head where it rested against him.

You whimpered against his skin. “But I was good.”

“Show me again,” he beckoned you from your hiding spot, “Show me again how good you can be.”

You whined, pouting. “How?”

“Just stay like that,” he guided you so that you were sitting up, “Make yourself cum like this. Can you do that for me?” His cadence was softer now, and he pushed hair from your face in a parallel to his actions that morning. You leaned into his touch now as you had then, planting your hands on his chest.

“But I want you to fuck me." You pleaded in vain.

“Brats don’t get what they want,” Damien’s tone turned harsh again. He moved his hands up the length of your legs and stopped to grip your waist, “Brats get what they deserve.”

The angle was odd, and you struggled to find a pacing that suited your needs. Damien watched you squirm above him, the faintest smirk on his lips; his hands stayed on your hips but didn’t offer any assistance. He wanted to watch, nothing more.

You bent yourself forward, still supporting yourself with your hands on his chest, and rolled your hips over him. You could feel him under you, hard and warm, and it did nothing to ease the heat in your lower stomach. You continued grinding down onto him, trying to find the delicious friction you sought; the tip of his cock pressed against your clit when you bucked your hips, and you let out a quiet moan.

“There you go,” Damien murmured. He had moved one arm under his head, propping himself up to get a better view. You grabbed at his bicep, squeezing softly, trying to get as much of him as you could. “You gonna make yourself cum for me?”

“Can’t,” you whined, still sweeping your hips over him, now with more fervor, trying to find the position that would give your clit the pressure it needed to let you reach your high. “Please, Damien, let me cum on your cock.”

He tilted his head back, “Isn’t that what I’m letting you do now?”

“Inside.” You were begging.

“No.” He squeezed your hip with the hand still situated there. He seemed to relent slightly, beginning to guide you. “Cum like this.”

You felt like crying; pent up and desperate and not at all able to make yourself feel even half as good as he would be able to. You let him pull you back and forth, the sounds of your slick coating his cock creating an absolutely obscene backing score to your actions. You felt the pressure in your stomach rise when he bucked his hips into you, pulling you forward to let your clit rest directly on him while you moved, directed by his hand.

Your breath hitched, and Damien, clearly getting impatient and fueled by his own want to fuck you, repeated the motion. Something inside you snapped, and you were cumming; your nails left small crescent imprints on his skin, clawing lightly at his arm and chest. You cried out, and he pulled you against him, letting you calm your breathing while you lay on his chest.

“You ready to be good now?” He nosed the crown of your head.

“Mhm,” your sounds were somewhere between confident and moaned. “Gonna be good.”

“What do you say?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me cum—thank you for letting me cum.”

“You’re welcome, princess.” He kissed your forehead, and once he was certain you were ready, he flipped you off of him. He sat up, coaxing you onto your stomach before getting up to kneel behind you. You had never been happier to be on your hands and knees, the promise of what was to come made you dizzy with lust.

He positioned himself low on the mattress, and before you had the chance to ask what he was doing, you felt him lick a stripe up your cunt.

"Oh—" You shivered, bending yourself down further on your hands to give him complete access to you. Damien said nothing, continuing to lick slow circles around your hole. He spit, watching it trail over you and down to your clit where it fell off your skin in drops. You tried to reach back for him, to pull on his hair and encourage him to do more.

But then he was straightening up, situating himself on his knees and sliding his cock through your folds.

“What did we learn today?” His teasing words paired deliciously with the way his cock pressed against your entrance.

“Don’t be a brat.” Your words were muffled by the pillow you pressed your face against.

“That’s right,” he swiped his cock through your folds, gathering your slick, and you moaned softly. “You going to say sorry?”

You made a noise that sounded halfhearted. He pulled you back by your hair, forcing your back to arch, your face centimeters from his own. You giggled, still mildly hell-bent on seeing just how much trouble you could cause. He swatted at your thigh to get your attention back.

“Try again. Apologize.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being a brat—I’m so sorry, Damien, I’m sorry for being bad, I promise I’ll be so good for you, please.” Your words were rushed, eager to please him and get what you had been craving all day.

“Good,” he released your hair from his vice grip and let you reposition yourself properly in front of him. “One more time,” the tip of his cock nudged your entrance, so close to penetrating you but still not enough, “Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered, and you had hardly finished your sentence before he rammed into you; there was no time wasted on getting you used to the way he had you speared, none spent on familiarizing your cunt with the stretch of his cock—he was as desperate as you were, and entirely unforgiving.

“God, fuck. Yeah, take it all like that,” his mouth hung open as he watched your cunt swallow him. You made absolutely pathetic noises, squirming against him, wiggling your hips around the intrusion of his cock.

“Fucking wet,” he groaned, hands once again finding purchase on your waist and pulling you against him with every thrust. “Does it turn you on, baby? Does acting like a slut make you wet for me? Letting me fuck your face and use you? Is that what got you wet like this?”

All you could manage was a hoarse cry, a garbled moan of affirmation. You heard him laughing behind you before he cut himself off with a moan, seated deep inside of you. Your cunt pulsed around him.

“Fuck—I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moaned, the drag of his cock against your walls made your eyes roll back into your head.

“I know, baby, I know you’re so sorry,” he whispered, hands combing through your hair lovingly while he ravaged you, “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” You smiled, pressing your face further into the pillow to muffle your sounds. “Yours, I’m yours—your good girl.”

“Yes, you are,” he sped up his thrusts, and you couldn’t help the scream you let out into the pillow. He leaned forward, pulling it from you and throwing it to the side. “Let me hear your pretty sounds, princess—let me hear my good girl’s pretty sounds.”

You were certain that whatever complaint you might receive from the neighbors would be worth it; all you could do was cry out for Damien, telling him how good he felt, how you’d be nothing but obedient from now on, and he punctuated every one of your wails with a sharp snap of his hips. Your walls fluttered around him, and he took the opportunity to bask in you; he pushed himself deeper, tip of his cock kissing your cervix while you moaned quiet praises of the feeling.

“Feels so good,” you squeaked, and he bent down to kiss the back of your head. One hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock like you were begging to?” He whispered, cock pushed as far inside of you as your cunt would allow.

“Yeah—please, yes!” You pushed your ass back against him, daring him to fuck you deeper, and he obliged; you felt drunk off his cock, the way he forced the air from your lungs with every thrust and how at a certain point you could remember nothing but his name and how deeply you loved and trusted him.

Damien reveled in your calls for him, the noises you made sent vibrations through his fingertips from where they rested on your throat.

He wrapped his free arm around your midriff, fingers finding your clit and rubbing circles in small bursts that synced with the motion of his hips. You squeezed your eyes shut, chanting his name like a prayer—over and over and over again.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he whispered down at you, and you were an absolute goner by the time the praise hit your ears; you felt your thighs shaking first, followed by the tightening in your stomach that, when it snapped and relaxed, spread pure, unadulterated pleasure through your body. Your moans of his name reached a crescendo and you collapsed under him, sore and tired and satisfied. You continued to murmur helplessly as he thrust into you, and when he came with a growl of your name and a string of curses, you felt a warm sensation in your lower stomach. You sighed happily at nothing in particular.

Damien immediately crowded you on the mattress, sweaty bodies intertwining, his arms wrapped around you in a desirous hug.

“You did so good, baby, you did such a good job for me.” He kissed whatever skin he could reach, peppering your cheek and shoulder with soft kisses. “My good girl, my perfect girl.”

You hummed into him, hand creeping up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I did good?” You asked for further validation, hazy from the pleasure.

“So fucking good,” he pulled you closer to him. “Do you feel good? Was that too much?”

You shook your head, smiling at the way he checked in on you; his prioritization of your comfort never ceased to make your heart feel full. “Just what I wanted.” You reassured him.

“Me too,” he sighed, tracing shapes on your back. The room went quiet, and your breathing fell in sync with his. “Do you wanna clean up?” He nudged you finally, "I can get you a towel—or, or run the shower?"

“Not yet,” you had closed your eyes, content to rest on him, “Comfy.”

He smiled at you, kissing your forehead, and leaning back. “Y'know...I do like that shirt on you.” He mused.

“Yeah?” You perked up, suddenly wide awake again.

“Yeah,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I mean—I like everything on you—and off you—but I especially enjoy seeing you in my clothes.”

You laughed quietly, “I’ll keep that in mind next time I decide to act out.”

He grasped your face with both hands, covering your face with kisses and laughing, “Was that the lesson you learned today?”

“Learned not to be bratty,” you laughed at the way his stubble tickled your neck when he dipped down to kiss your pulse points, “Learned that when I am bratty you still give me what I want.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, letting go of your face and wrapping his arms around your waist again. “You got me all figured out, huh?”

“I think so,” you sighed dreamily, nuzzling your face against his chest, “Y’big softy.”

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