#this has been sitting in my notes app for two years | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whisperofaflame · 1 month ago

Text

Too Long (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

18+ (this is pure smut, you have been warned)

Summary: Wanda is away for work, and you're feeling increasingly needy. Natasha tries to teach you some patience and restraint.

Word count: 5.4k

Featuring: Mommy kink, praise kink, begging, slight dumbification, slight humiliation, penetration, strap-warming, slight size kink, cunnilingus, dacryphylia (soft of), explicit consent, safeword use (and healthy discussion), subspace, aftercare.

Warnings: This is kinda filthy — please mind the tags above and skip if they squick.

A/N: This is my first foray into smut, so it might be a bit clunky/repetitive in parts. I wrote this on the notes app of my phone in the back of my parents car on a long cross-country drive earlier this year. I don't know why I'm telling you this. Catholic guilt maybe? Anyway, I'm posting this and running...

Wanda has been away for three days now, and she won’t be home for another two. In her absence, your emotions have been wobbly, and your behaviour less than your best. Thus far, Natasha has been tolerant. She understands that your petulance stems from the separation, and how much you’re missing your Mommy. So she’s been letting you off lightly when you’ve pouted and deliberately pushed her buttons, giving you gentle reminders rather than stern warnings. She even let you get away with not tidying up the living room last night, which is normally a non-negotiable. And yet, despite all of her kindness and understanding and leniency, your misbehaviour has only continued. If not escalated.

Natasha told you this morning that she needed space to focus on her work, and she didn’t want to be disturbed while she was in her study. She even explained when you could have breaks together, for lunch and snacks and cuddles if needed. But what she thought was a simple, reasonable rule (set mainly to help you get some of your own work done in peace, rather than any selfish desire of her own) is being blatantly ignored. Repeatedly.

The fourth time you interrupt her without knocking, whining something unintelligible about being bored and needing your recently confiscated Switch right now, Natasha’s understanding of the situation flickers into a new light. Her previous resolve lost, a new tactic takes its place. One which she realises is far more appropriate for your needs, as she now sees them.

-----------------⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅-----------------

Natasha frowns at you, her demeanour very different to the rather softer affect she has adopted since dropping Wanda off at the airport. She seems more like herself now. Serious, firm. Reliable. The domme you know; the domme you need.

“Go change into a skirt and a vest top. Now, please,” Natasha commands, her tone cutting into you at once, making your heart flutter and your core twinge.

“Yes, Nat” you squeak out, then dash off — out her study, down the hall and up the stairs to your room. In the closet, you find a white cropped tank top and a layered white and pink floral skirt. It’s short, leaving little to the imagination. You’re fairly sure this is what Natasha wants.

Once you’re dressed, you pull up your socks and race down the stairs again, almost skidding as you turn the corner to her study. The door is closed over, making you hesitate. Do you knock?

Your heart pounds, a smidgeon of anxiety rising to the surface.

“Nat?” You call out nervously, twiddling your fingers together and scrunching your toes up beneath you.

“You may come in, malyshka,” she responds, her voice husky and commanding. Your hand trembles as you reach for the handle and push the door open.

Nat is sitting at her desk again, looking across at you with her fingers tapping the edge of the table. She has a stern sort of look on her face, one which makes you fold in on yourself, shoulders curling forwards, head ducking.

“Come here.”

You obey her instruction at once, approaching in a flurry, desperate to please her. You stop about a foot away from her, hovering at the side of her desk.

Natasha’s eyes roam your body from top to toe, smirking appreciatively. You can feel the cool air from the open balcony door meeting the already-damp patch of your underwear beneath the skirt.

“Now then, malyshka…” Natasha begins, her tone serious and a little scathing. “Why do you think I’ve called you here?”

You swallow thickly, words sticking in your throat.

“I’ve been bad,” you squeak out.

“Hmm…” she hums, considering your words. “Can you tell me more about that, baby?” Her voice is a little softer now. Perhaps she’s noticed your trembling fingers and taken pity.

“I - I’ve been disturbing you while you work,” you mumble. “I’m sorry.”

Natasha reaches out and takes your shaking hands into hers.

“And can you tell me why, please, little one?” She strokes your hands with her thumbs, and you feel like you’re melting. You desperately want her to hug you, to hold you. Anything more than this.

“Um…” you gnaw at your lip, struggling to maintain eye contact with her piercing green eyes. Natasha nods encouragingly at you, and you take a deep breath. “I n-need you, Natty. I - I wanted…” you blush darkly, her questioning forcing you to consciously realise what you’ve been wanting, what you’ve been aiming to happen without really knowing.

“Go on, malyshka,” Natasha urges you, letting go of your left hand and cupping your chin, lifting it so you’re looking at her. You swallow, and feel hot, embarrassed tears well in your eyes.

“I wanted you to touch me,” you say, the words spilling out in tandem with a single tear.

“Oh, my pretty girl,” Natasha coos, wiping the tear away with her left hand then placing both hands around your waist, fingers brushing against the skin exposed between the ending of your top and the beginning of the skirt. “You know you don’t need to act out to get that, right? You can just use your words.”

You squirm on the spot and look down again, feeling your arousal pool at the condescending tone she uses. Natasha’s hands snake a bit lower, resting on your hips now, pressing in against the fabric of the skirt and stilling your slightly swaying movements.

“Hmm, do you need a reminder of Natty’s rules, baby?” she asks, making you look up uncertainly. “Remember, I like you to use your words, malyshka. Big girls use their words to communicate, and only big girls get to play grown up games with Natty. Are you a big girl, Y/N?”

You whine at this, feeling hot all over and struggling to contain the urge to rub your thighs together, the soaked fabric of your panties becoming distinctly uncomfortable against your throbbing centre.

“Are you too little right now to play?” Natasha checks, her tone wavering between teasing and concern. You look up at her, mind foggy and unsure how to answer. “Colour, baby,” she commands, and you feel relieved at the easy request.

“Green,” you whisper, at once. She smiles.

“Good girl for using your words,” she praises, and she leans forward in her chair, rising a little to kiss you passionately on the lips. You feel yourself falling into her, your weight taken entirely by her firm hold on your hips. When her tongue presses against your lips you grant her entry at once, and she’s lapping inside, her tongue pressing against yours, her teeth taking your lower lip in a bite that borders on painful. You wrap your hands around the back of her neck and moan into her mouth. In response, her hands dig in a little tighter to your hips, and she breathes out a little gasp of appreciation as she lets your lip go and separates.

“Let’s take your panties off, then you can sit on Natty’s lap,” she tells you. You stare at her for a moment, blinking as the words sinks in. She waits for your smile of understanding before she reaches beneath your skirt, hooks her fingers into the elastic of your panties and slides them down your legs. They pool at your ankles and you step out of them, her hands returning to your hips and holding you steady as you wobble. Natasha glances down at the glistening fabric on the floor, smirks, then lifts you onto her, arranging your legs so your knees are pressed against the remaining edges of the chair, your calves folded under your thighs. Your skirt splays out, hiding your thighs and a bit of hers like a blanket. As you sink down, you feel something hidden beneath you, beneath the fabric of her trousers. Something hard, that presses against the sweet spot that craves friction.

Natasha sees your surprise and smirks.

“Feel that, baby?” she asks, her voice even lower than usual. Seductive, excited. You nod, biting your lip to suppress a whimper. Natasha raises her eyebrow and you remember her rules.

“Y-yes, Natty,” you breathe.

She rewards your words with a controlling movement of her hands on your hips, guiding you to rock yourself back and forth over the buried strap. Your moans come out broken, your breath too shaky to maintain a single sound.

“P-please Natty,” you beg, tears bubbling up again even though you’re so happy. “I need you. Please.”

“Shhh… it’s okay baby,” Natasha hushes you gently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips and quelling your babbled words. “Let Natty help you.”

She lift you a little so you’re resting on your knees and hovering above her. Then she removes her hands from your hips, and reaches down beneath the drape of your skirt. You hear her unzip her trousers, which must already be ruined by your slick. You blush at the thought, struggling to stay steady on your knees.

Natasha’s hands return to your hips, and she looks you in the eyes, seeking consent.

“Please, Natty — I want this,” you whisper, desperation making your voice waver but you’re so sure; you need her.

“Okay, baby,” she promises, kissing you again then bringing one hand down beneath your skirt. Brushing against your thighs, teasing you only briefly before taking her fingers to your folds and running them from your opening to your clit, collecting your arousal and letting out a deep breath.

“Oh, zolotse — you’re so wet,” she groans delightedly, and you whimper at her words, at her delicate touch. You need more. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes, Natty,” you whisper, feeling the hand at your hip move back up to your waist, pressing into the flesh beneath your ribs and holding you tight. Your fingers flutter at the back of her neck, too nervous to take hold of her hair but expecting you’ll need too soon, to anchor yourself as she enters you. Please be soon.

Natasha’s finger renew their inspection of your folds, whispering back and forth, producing small convulsions as your hole begs to inhale something, twitching at the teasing glances of her fingertips.

“Natty…” you whine, tears building up and spilling over silently. “Please, inside me, please.”

She silences your babbling with a kiss, and as she sucks at your lips a single finger finds your opening and enters, making you moan into her mouth. Natasha murmurs something as she kisses you, lips wobbling out the indiscernible sounds, but the appreciative groan that accompanies them makes you think she is enjoying the way your walls are fluttering around her digit.

“God, baby,” she murmurs when she releases you from the kiss, “your pussy is so tight; I need to stretch you more before I can fill you up, hm?”

You whimper at this, humiliation and arousal overpowering your ability to think. You pray she won’t ask for more words, because surely they won’t come now. Your brain is so empty, so full of fog.

Natasha removes her finger from you, but then re-enters with two before you can even whine at the loss. She slides in easily but you can feel yourself squeezing at her once she’s inside. You feel so close already, and it’s just her fingers, just the beginning of what she must have planned for you. Your head droops and you rest your forehead against her shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut and willing yourself not to come, not yet.

“Oh baby, is it too much already?” Natasha asks, crooning with condescension. You tremble against her as her hand leaves your waist and curls around your back, holding you in a gentle embrace as her other hand pumps two fingers in and out of you at a slow pace, masterfully avoiding your clit. You shake your head against her shoulder desperately, not wanting her to finish you here. You want to be good for her, to hold on until she lets you. And to be good, Natasha needs your words. You take a shuddering breath.

“Natty,” you squeak out, her name strangled by your quivering arousal.

“You’re okay, baby, I’ve got you,” Natasha reassures you. She carefully removes her fingers from you, leaving you empty and twitching. The hand around your back returns to your waist, and you revel in the sharp pain of her fingernails digging into your skin, finding you amongst the fog and grounding you a little in the moment.

Then you feel it, the silicone head pressing against your hole, circling slightly as Natasha moves it over your slick to prepare you. You pant and scrunch your face up in anticipation, desperate for it, powerless to take control in Natasha’s firm grip. But she doesn’t make you wait too long. Guiding you by your waist onto the strap, which she must be holding steady with her other hand. You can’t see it because of the skirt, but it keeps going. On and on she eases you down onto it, your entrance stretching to accommodate its length and girth. Your mouth opens into an O of pleasure and a tiny hint of pain, which Natasha keeps a careful eye on, and uses to determine her speed. She slows at the slightest hint of a grimace and pulls you back up, so you bob up and down very slowly a few times, until you finally sink down and the skin of your inner thighs meets the fabric of her trousers.

“Good girl,” she praises you, peppering your face with kisses and cleaning away the tears. “Such a good girl, taking Natty’s big cock so well. You looked so pretty, baby, sinking down on the biggest strap. Such a stretch for your tiny pussy, hm? I’m so proud of you.” You cry and whine against her, fingers scrabbling at the back of her shirt and threading into her hair as gently as you can, desperate for her to relieve the throbbing by allowing you to ride her. But her hands are both on your waist now, holding you down in her lap.

“Now, Natty has some work to do, baby,” Natasha tells you calmly, her voice returning to her serious, daily tone. You blink at her, too full to think properly. Natasha gives you a kiss on the lips, then drags the chair closer to the desk and reaches forward with her right hand, taking hold of her computer mouse.

You stare at her, confused and unable to find the words to express your frustration. You just pout and blink your teary eyelashes, hoping she’ll explain. Finally, she takes pity on you.

“You didn’t think Natty would reward you for interrupting her, did you, malyshka?” she asks, shaking her head slyly. Your lip wobbles and she hushes you, gently rubbing her left thumb against your tummy. “Hush now, baby — don’t worry. If you can sit still and keep Natty’s cock warm for an hour then you’ll get your reward for being a good girl.”

An hour?

Natasha must see the panic in your face, because her smile disappears at once and her other hand moves back to you, cupping your cheek and wiping your tears away.

“Colour, baby?” she asks you.

You want to say green, but something is stopping you. Of course, you love Natasha taking control, you love her applying consequences. And you want her to stay in charge, to do what she wants, what she thinks is best. But you know that if you say green just now, it won’t be entirely honest. Your heart pounds, and your voice gets lost inside you.

“Orange or red?” Natasha asks, finding your eyes again and trying to ground you with a neutral look. It helps, her taking out one of the options. It helps to know she’s expecting it.

“Orange,” you whisper.

“Good girl,” Natasha tells you seriously, giving you a small smile. “I’m so proud of you for being honest.” She pauses, letting the praise sink in. “Can you tell me what’s uncomfortable, malyshka?”

“Too long,” you mumble, blushing. Natasha tilts her head, frowning with worry.

“The strap?”

You shake your head quickly.

“No, the um…” You bite your lip, and duck your head. “The time. I don’t think I can manage an hour.”

You feel embarrassed, that this is the reason you’re first putting a pause to proceedings like this. Your impatience, your inability to sit still. Even with a strap buried inside you, even with Natasha’s soothing embrace, you still know you won’t manage. You’ll get bored and antsy and you’ll get in trouble, no matter how much you want to be good.

“That’s okay, baby,” Natasha assures you, visibly relieved that she’s not hurting you. “You’re right, an hour doesn’t make sense, I got a little carried away. Do you want this to end? We can move to the bed, or switch straight to aftercare if you need?”

You shake your head again, bringing your hands to Natasha’s shoulders and fiddling with the collar of her shirt nervously.

“No, I - I want to continue, please.”

“Are you sure, malyshka?” Natasha checks, concern etched in the lines of her forehead. “We can always give it another go a different day, and discuss it properly first?”

“Please Natty,” you tell her, eyes wide and pleading. You do want this; you just needed it amended a little.

“Okay,” she says, nodding and massaging her thumbs at your waist. “Can you tell me then, my love, how long you want it to last?”

You wrinkle up your nose in disagreement. It’s no fun if you choose; you’re not good at decisions and besides it’s her being in control that makes these scenarios pleasurable.

“You choose,” you tell her petulantly, and she rolls her eyes, though her lips curl into a smile.

“You’re so stubborn,” she teases you, tickling her fingers into your sides very gently, and making you giggle, then moan as your wriggles make the strap press deliciously against your walls. Natasha chuckles at your inadvertent pleasure and stills you again in her grip.

“How about half an hour?” she asks you, serious again and studying your face for any sign of doubt or discomfort.

“Okay, Natty,” you agree. And you smile a little to reassure her, which makes the skin of her forehead smooth out again.

“Good girl,” she praises you, kissing your nose gently and making you giggle again. “You’ve used your words so well; Mommy will be so impressed when I tell her.”

You blush and bury your face into her neck, embarrassed at the prospect of her relaying this situation to anyone. Even Wanda, who you know will be happy to hear that you used a safeword when you needed to.

Natasha brings a hand to the back of your head and strokes your hair, shushing you gently as you whine.

“That’s it baby. You just relax with Natty’s strap inside you. I’ll set a timer and if you’re good and let me work, then I’ll reward you, I promise.” She kisses the crown of your head, and you breathe out, relaxing. But then, she can’t resist another little tease. “You must be feeling so sticky now hm? All stretched out by Natty’s big cock?”

You whine and squirm against her neck, too ashamed to speak. Her words make you feel even more full, the pressure against your walls immense. She pats your head and luckily doesn’t try to pry any more words from you, as she fiddles with her phone and then holds the timer up so you can see it has begun counting down from thirty minutes.

Natasha’s hands leave you after a while, but you don’t dare wriggle on top of her, despite the overwhelming urge to squeeze your thighs or buck your hips against the full feeling. Even if you were bold enough to try, you’re not sure if you have the energy left. The buildup and teasing, the tears and the honesty, they’ve all drained you to the point of being completely floppy and pliant in her lap.

“Baby, we’re halfway through now,” Natasha tells you gently, lifting you from your haze after a while. “Are your legs okay? Do you want to change your position a little?”

You have to force yourself to check in with your body; all your senses are somewhat dulled by your stupor and the overwhelming sensation of being so full. Your knees are a bit achey, you realise.

“Sore, Natty,” you whisper.

“Your legs? Or something else?” she checks.

“Just legs,” you tell her. She nods, finds your chin and lifts your head so she can see your face.

“Okay; let’s get you off your knees and get your legs to wrap around my back instead. I need to lift you up a little though, baby. It might feel funny, with the strap. Is that okay?”

“Okay, mama,” you whisper. It slips out without you consciously noticing. Natasha’s face softens even more, but she doesn’t draw attention to it, perhaps realising you don’t quite know what you said.

Natasha lifts you gently, and you feel yourself sliding up the strap as you rise. It does feel funny, and you whine at the feeling.

“I know, baby,” Natasha coos. “Let’s move your pretty legs now, get them comfy.” She supports your weight and guides your legs to unfold and curl around the back of her. As she gently eases you back down onto the strap, your ankles cross over each other, holding her body close. You let out a little “hummph” sound as you sink down to the bottom, your clit brushing against the base of the strap and making your hips buck a little automatically.

“Good girl, well done,” Natasha murmurs into your ear, massaging your waist on either side to calm you down. When your breathing slows again, she lets go of your waist and places her left hand on your back, scratching gently as she clicks her mouse in her other hand. You’re not sure if she’s really working, or if it’s just part of the scene. Either way, the idea that she can focus on work while you’re consumed with the feeling of her strap inside you makes your cunt twitch with humiliation. You’re entirely at her disposal, a melted mass for her hands to mould, but she can stay cool and superior, apparently unaffected by the way your arousal leaks out of your stretched hole and dampens the fabric of her trousers.

You almost fall asleep on her shoulder, so tired from the ordeal and placated by her nails scratching lightly into your back, keeping you just distracted enough from the way her strap seems to be bulging against your internal seams. You’re awoken from the haze by the beep of her phone and the return of Natasha’s full attention, her right hand cupping the back of your head, her lips kissing yours with an energy you can’t return. You settle for moaning passively into her mouth, eyes fluttering closed and your tummy twisting as your arousal approaches the edge again.

“So good for me, baby, you’re perfect,” Natasha whispers, her lips hovering millimetres from your own. “I’m so proud of you, you stayed so still and let me work. You must feel really full hm? I bet you’re so close.”

“Yes, Natty,” you mumble, relieved by her understanding. “So full, so close.”

Natasha unleashes a moan of her own at your whimpering agreement.

“Good girl, perfect girl,” she praises again, her own voice becoming a little more desperate. “Ride for me, baby.” And she guides you, lifting you up with her hands at your hips again, letting you sink down when you choose. You’re so tired that you hold on to her shoulders, needing something to press against, hardly able to hold yourself up and prevent your body from crashing down painfully on her strap.

“Please, Natty,” you whine, tears flowing again as your legs tremble. Your body feels alight, tired but electric, sparks flying through your veins and making you twitch. “Please… gonna…”

Natasha tilts her pelvis slightly and brings you down a little firmer, pressing herself against you so your clit rubs over the bulging base of the strap.

“Cum for me, baby,” she instructs you, and your fingers fumble at the fabric of her collar, your ankles spasm against each other around her back, and you feel a gush of liquid squirt out of you, leaking out around the strap and soaking Natasha’s trousers and underwear. You gasp and babble her name as you cum, tears leaking out and getting kissed away by Natasha’s lips, as she rocks her hips against you and lets you bounce pathetically on top of her lap as you ride out your high. Eventually you slump down on top of her, breathless and exhausted, and Natasha stills her hips before you can whine from the overstimulation. She uses her thumbs to wipe the tears from your eyes and smiles at you in adoration.

“I love you, malyshka,” she tells you avidly, staring deep into your eyes as your eyelids droop.

“Love you, Natty,” you whisper hoarsely, your throat a little dry and your nose a little stuffy from the crying.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Natasha says gently, giving you a little kiss on your nose. You nod, and wrinkle your nose as she lifts you up with her hands in your armpits, the strap sliding out of you and making you shudder. “Sorry, baby,” Natasha whispers sympathetically. “I’ll be gentle; I know you’re sensitive right now.” You nod against her as she stands, still supporting your body weight in her arms as she turns you onto her hip. She moves her right hand to rest beneath your bottom, and you wrap your legs tighter round her body to help.

“It’s okay,” she reassures you. “I’ve got you.”

Natasha carries you through to the bedroom and then lays you down on the bed, giving you a kiss on the lips then trying to move away. It takes a moment before you realise what’s holding her back; when you do, you unwrap your arms from her neck, flushing at your misunderstanding. She smiles at you.

“I’ll be back in a moment, baby,” she promises you. And she gives you one last little kiss before disappearing into the en-suite. You stare at the ceiling, fighting the urge to close your eyes, knowing you’ll fall asleep if you do.

Natasha returns promptly, as promised, with a wet cloth and a glass of water. She’s taken her trousers off and removed the harness, so she’s just in her shirt and boxers.

She supports you to sit up first, then holds the cup as you sip at it, wetting your dry throat and quenching the thirst you hadn’t noticed. Then she seeks permission with her eyes before wiping your legs and centre clean once you nod. You squirm a bit at the feeling of the cloth against your clit, but Natasha is quick to clean you, and she peppers you with kisses on the thighs when she’s done, making you giggle and twitch at the ticklish, teasing feeling. Then she lies next to you, pulling you on top of her and wrapping her arms tightly around your back. You tug at her shirt and whine frustratedly.

“You want this off?” she asks you.

“Please,” you murmur, and she smiles.

“Okay, baby. I can do that for you.”

She sets you back down at her side again, then sits up in the bed and unbuttons her shirt, throwing it to the floor once it’s off. She’s left in her bra and her slightly mottled boxers, and you pout at her in disgruntlement. She rolls her eyes.

“Come on baby, that’s not how we communicate our needs,” she sighs. But she smiles then, showing you that she’s teasing. She takes off her underwear finally, throws it to the floor then crawls over you to peel your skirt off and lift the crop top off over your head. You cling to her then, sighing contentedly against her skin.

“Better, baby?” Natasha asks, though she must know the answer from the way you relax against her.

“Mmm,” you hum happily. You lie side by side a bit, Natasha’s left leg hooked over your body, curling round the back of your knees. It gives a comforting weight, letting you sink deeper into the mattress. You stroke her forearms as she holds your cheeks, watching your eyelids flutter.

“You can sleep, malyshka,” she tells you; but there’s something you want to do first. You nuzzle your head forward, burying in towards her chest. You glance up for permission then, when she smiles, you plant a series of kisses on her sternum, then the sides of her breasts. Natasha moans quietly, appreciatively. You lick her left nipple, swirling your tongue around in a circle, then flicking at it rhythmically.

“Yes, baby…” she groans. You kiss around it then, teasing her a little before you encase her nipple between your lips and suck gently. You can feel Natasha shuddering beneath you, and you suck a little harder, pressing your teeth teasingly against her soft skin.

“Malyshka…” Natasha’s voice is strangled. She scrabbles about, finding your hand then pushing it urgently down towards her thighs. You grin against her breast, and stroke the sensitive skin of her thighs with your fingers, deftly avoiding her centre as you suck her nipple a little harder.

“Please,” Natasha moans, “don’t tease me, baby. Be a good girl and make mama happy.”

Your cheeks feel ablaze at her words and your core tingles anew. Natasha’s never referred to herself as such before; it’s only ever slipped from your lips, much to your embarrassment. You always thought she wasn’t a fan, by the way she stuck firmly to Natty whenever she referred to herself in third-person during scenes. But now she has used it, right when she sounds so desperate, and so close to her peak.

“Yes, mama,” you whisper, and you find her folds with your fingers and dip in between, pressing two fingers against her glistening hole and sliding in with ease.

“Oh…” gasps Natasha. “Yes, baby, that’s it. Pump in and out now. Good girl.” You follow her instructions eagerly, proud to be prompting such sweet sounds from her lips, the moans and the gasps as your fingers curl into the spongy spot that makes her twitch.

“Yes, oh god — yes,” Natasha cries out. “Another finger, baby, please.”

You add a third finger diligently and continue pumping in and out of her cunt. Your wrist is beginning to ache but you are determined to bring her all the way to her unravelling, so you ignore the pain and carry on fingering her, focussing on swirling your tongue around her nipple and alternating it with sucks and kisses, driving her wild.

Natasha’s moans and cries become more and more desperate and you feel her walls beginning to squeeze your digits. Quickly you wriggle downwards, planting kisses on her stomach on your way, then you bury your mouth atop her clit and suck sloppily as your fingers continue to fight against her growing resistance, pumping in and out and curling into her g-spot.

“Oh, oh, baby… yes…” Natasha whimpers, and she falls over the edge, her legs spasming and her thighs trapping your wrist and face harshly between strong muscles. You do your best to keep up your ministrations, even though it’s hard to breathe between the powerful grip of her orgasm. Eventually, her legs relax a little and she grabs for you, motioning for you to join her. You crawl up, waiting until her eyes meet yours before sticking the three fingers which were inside her into your mouth and sucking them clean, your eyelids fluttering at her musky scent and taste. Natasha moans at the sight.

“Oh fuck, malyshka — you’re so perfect.”

You grin happily as you remove your now clean fingers, then lie down on top of her, your breasts flush against each other. She finds your lips and kisses you deeply, swirling her tongue about your mouth to find her taste in you and curling her fingers into your hair.

You sigh peacefully as she lets you go, and she turns you over so you’re lying beside her on the bed. Natasha strokes your cheek and holds your hand.

“Sleep now, malyshka,” she tells you quietly. “I’ll still be here when you wake, I promise.”

You look into her green eyes, tuck your hand under your chin and close your eyelids, a blissful smile on your lips as you slip away.

↑ (Me after posting smut for the first time, contemplating all my life choices)

#natasha romanoff x reader #f/f fanfic #wandanat #mommy natasha #mommy wanda #mommy k!nk #natasha smut #natasha romanoff smut #wlw smut #mommy!natasha #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff

758 notes · View notes

artdcnaldson · 11 months ago

Note

okay but PLEASE elaborate on Olympics!Art AU

TeeHee

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v), feral obsessive behavior, infidelity

A/N: And you would do it too, that’s all I’m saying. Also IMPORTANT note: I love Tashi, she is a mother to many. However this fic has a very obsessive reader who just wants to fuck a married man, at Tashi’s expense

Maybe you were a bad person.

You’d met Art and Tashi Donaldson before— a year back at an event held for Tennis’ rising stars. That was you, some other guys who had done well in the Juniors, a girl from an Ivy League, and more people that fell into the blind spots of your interest..

You must’ve looked so sweet in your formalwear, approaching the couple with shaking hands so you could say just how big of a fan you were. You had no ill intent then, not when you were face to face with two people you’d idolized since you were twelve and watching the Junior US Open. That night you’d taken a deep breath as you stared at the ceiling of your home, feeling like you’d made it.

Sure, Art was handsome, and you’d lived the past decade harboring a massive celebrity crush on him, but he was married, he was untouchable. Art Donaldson oozed that sweet, devoted husband shtick. Anniversary posts, birthday posts, Valentine’s Day posts, Mother’s Day posts. He had a daughter, he posted about how much he loved being a dad.

You were fine accepting that your fantasies of fucking Art Donaldson were strictly fantasies. But that was before you qualified and had to see him every fucking day.

Art Donaldson, who held open doors for you, who talked to you casually, like he might an old friend. Art, who stood in the long line in the food court with you, ate something he probably shouldn’t have, and asked that you don’t tell Tashi.

And you’d smile conspiratorially, and assure him his secret was safe with you. The implication being that you’d keep that secret, and more. As many as he’d ask you to, really.

You’d see him on a practice court, running drills with his wife, and feel the heat of jealousy in the pit of your stomach. You’d turn away, focus on your own game, practice until your hands were aching and sore.

“Where’s Mrs. Donaldson?” You asked one night after you’d been sexiled and had to sit out in the hallway waiting for your roommate to finish up. Art leaned against the wall, standing tall above you, so you had to crane your neck. You liked that point of view, on your knees looking up at him, you wondered if he liked it too.

“Oh, she’s staying in a very nice, very expensive hotel room with our daughter right now,” he said with a grin. “As soon as my events are done, that’s where I’ll be too.”

“Oh,” you said, bringing an easy smile to your lips. “Well, we’re all glad you’re here now.”

“We?” He questioned.

You gave a coy smile, batting your lashes so sweetly. “Maybe just me.”

There was a strange expression on his face for just a moment. Then he laughed like it was nothing. He wished you a goodnight and good luck in your matches the next morning, and disappeared into his own room.

You medaled in women’s doubles. They published photos of you and your partner biting the silver between your teeth. That same day, Art Donaldson took home gold. You were there to see the very end of his last match— every single collision of racket against ball, every step, every grunt of exertion. Your thighs clenched as you watched, fists balled up in the fabric of your skirt.

You wanted him in a needy, desperate sort of way. Like a groupie for a rock band, or a virgin being sacrificed on a mountaintop. You watched him celebrate with a kiss from Tashi and felt that same need like an open wound. Jealousy was festering in you like a rot.

The dive bar wasn’t what you’d expected. Something Art had found with a quick google search and a few minutes with a translation app. He’d knocked on your door to invite you, wearing the beaming smile of someone on top of the world.

“So you’ll come?” He asked after he told you all about it.

“Mhmm,” you said, heart hammering against your ribs. “I’ll come.”

And there you were— in a dress that hardly qualified as such— standing so close to him that you could smell his expensive cologne. His arm would brush yours, he’d glance over and apologize with a warm hand to your arm. You’d clench your thighs together and peer at him through your lashes. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.

A few of the other players disappeared to play darts, or watch the late night coverage of the other sports still competing. You stuck by Art’s side, happily allowing his attention to fall on you completely.

“I saw parts of your doubles final,” he said finally. He was drinking a brand of beer you’d never seen before— something local, you supposed. “You looked beautiful out there.” Your eyes lit up, and then he added. “The way you were playing, I mean— it was phenomenal.”

“Well, I’m no gold medalist,” you said. You let your hand rest on his arm, and looked up at him. The fingers on your other hand toyed with the edge of the medal, warm from where it had been flush against his chest.

He swallowed. You felt his muscles flex beneath your touch, but he didn’t discourage it. Not one fucking bit.

It wasn’t lost on you that Tashi wasn’t there. Not that it was really her type of venue, from what you had gathered. It wasn’t lost on you that Art Donaldson was at a dive bar, drinking random Brazilian beers, instead of celebrating with his wife, with his daughter. Fuck all those posts on his instagram— if he really was a good husband, a faithful one… that’s the only place he’d want to be.

“I saw your match too. I ran right over after my ceremony to watch,” you confessed. It was hard to concentrate on anything else— you were standing so close to him that you were nearly pressed completely into his body.

His lips twitched in interest. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Mhmm. It was incredible. You were so dominant out there, just taking what was rightfully yours.”

He swallowed again, gravitating closer. Your tits were practically spilling out of your dress— he probably got the perfect eyeful when he eased you closer with a firm hand on your lower back, when he looked down at you through blown pupils.

“You looked so fucking hot out there, Art,” you said, lips brushing against his jawline. “You can’t even imagine how it felt sitting there, watching you win. How turned on I got… how wet.”

Art exhaled a shuddery breath. “Jesus Christ.”

It must’ve been a while since he had someone want him this bad, you thought. Clearly he needed it— needed a pretty, sweet thing to tell him just how much they wanted him. You could be that. You could do that.

“I’m not wearing panties,” you whispered in his ear. His grip on you tightened and you had to suppress a giddy smile. “You can feel if you want. I won’t tell.”

He swore under his breath and glanced around. Everyone was too occupied or drunk to give a shit about what the two of you were up to.

He grabbed your hand, pulled you away into the bathroom. You looked pretty even then, in the flickering lights, sat up on the edge of the sink eagerly awaiting his attention.

When he wrenched your thighs apart, he was greeted by the pretty sight of your glistening cunt— sticky with arousal and need. His hand fit there perfectly, right where you needed it.

“Fuck,” you gasped. His fingers rubbed through your slit— wet and hot and aching for him. Your head fell back, knocking against the dirty mirror. “Want you to use me— whatever you want, just take it.”

And you meant it too. This was your teenage idol— a man you’d touched yourself to the thought of countless times. He owned your body, your sexuality, as much as you did. It was only fair he took from it whatever he pleased.

You watched with hungry eyes as he fumbled with the button of his pants, then shoved them down just enough to free his dick.

Your mouth fucking watered with the need to feel it on your tongue, nudging against the back of your throat. You weren’t opposed to begging— you nearly started before you got it into your hand.

Warm, thick, pulsing. Precum beaded at his tip, so you smeared it around the sensitive head of his cock with your thumb. He groaned, bucked into your fist once, twice before he moved your hand.

“Spread your legs wider for me,” he said, slapping the inside of your thighs. You obeyed wordlessly, spreading yourself out invitingly. He pressed closer, so you felt him rutting his dick against your pussy, coating it in your arousal. “God, you’re so fucking wet.”

The words came out with equal parts disgust and awe. He probably thought you were a slut with the way you were throwing yourself at him. You wished he’d just call you that, spit it in your face.

Your cunt pulsed with need, aching to be filled up finally. The culmination of years of fantasizing. Art pressed himself against your entrance, sinking himself into you with the slow reverence of a man who liked making love.

He buried himself inside of you and had to stop moving to keep from cumming then and there. He was a perfect image of restraint�� the way his fingers dimpled the flesh of your hips in a bruising grip.

Art wanted to be a gentleman— to give you time to adjust to the size of him, to ease you into it and let the pleasure be a slow, soft burn. He pulled out nice and easy, slid himself into your wet, throbbing cunt. That was all fine and good, but you knew it was just pretense. You were laid out and wanting, begging for him to use you as his own personal toy.

“I’m not your wife, Art.” You met his gaze, locked your ankles around his waist. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

The first thrust, the first real one, knocked the air from your lungs. That silence didn’t last long— because you got what you wanted— he was really fucking you, bullying his cock into your pussy with the same need and desperation that you felt.

“Jesus Christ, you’ve— fuck— you’ve got no fucking self respect, huh?” He pounded into you, leveraging his grip to pull you against him, really impale you on his dick.

The moan that escaped you was pornographic. If he kept talking to you like that, if he kept fucking you like that, you’d cum.

“You don’t even care, do you? This fucking pussy’s squeezing me so tight— you fucking love this,” His voice was strained, interrupted by groans and pants.

You moaned, eyes rolling back. “Love this,” you echoed. When you looked down, at the sight of him splitting you open, of the ring of creamy arousal circling the base of his dick, you felt dizzy. Like you were standing on top of a tall building and looking down. Sort of out of body, tethered in the present by brutal thrusts into your pussy and the wet, slapping sounds of your bodies joining.

Your fingers moved between your thighs, rubbing needy and insistent at your clit. So close to finishing that you wanted to cry and just ask to start over again, that you’d savor it more a second time.

“Gonna cum,” he groaned suddenly. You felt him start to pull out, to leave. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck— not yet, you didn’t want it to end like that. “I have an IUD,” you lied through your teeth. You used your legs, pulled him closer, deeper. “Just keep going, don’t stop. I’m right there.”

He moaned against your throat— holding you tight, fucking into you with animal need. Your fingers moved against your clit with an insistent need. It didn’t take much to push you over the edge. Your moans so loud that Art had to put his medal between your lips to shut you up.

And you were so pliant— letting him drill into your aching, used cunt, your mouth tasting like metal. You felt his rhythm falter— one, two harsh thrusts that knocked muffled moans from you until he came, painting your insides thick, creamy white.

He stayed buried inside of you for a while— panting, doing his best to catch his breath. You spat out the medal and it fell back against his chest, spit slick and shining. You reached up, ran your fingers along his face, reverently, sweetly. A lock of hair fell into his eyes and you tucked it away with delicate fingers.

When he pulled out, you felt that sinking feeling of loss and jealousy in your chest. He redressed in silence, turned away like he couldn’t stand to look at you, or the mirror. Shame rolled off of him in waves that you wanted to brush away.

It wasn’t bad, you’d assure him. You’re a tennis star, you’re the greatest in the world. You should have whatever you want, whenever you want it.

But you didn’t say that. You just tidied yourself up as best as you could and slipped back out into the bar. If anyone noticed, they said nothing.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #challengers fanfic #challengers x reader #art donaldson fanfic #art donaldson smut

2K notes · View notes

dear-satan · 4 months ago

Note

Can you do more Resident Evil x reader plsss

I hope you like this <3 ( I'm so, so sorry I'm replying so late!! )

Tinder

ID!Leon Kennedy x Reader

★ word count: 11k

★ CW: smut, age gap (early 20s reader, Leon late 30s), oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, cum on the reader's thigh, cock warming or not, love marks

★ author's note: hello everyone, i'm alive! sorry for not posting anything for a very long time.. well, i was suffering from a terrible artblock? i think that's what it's called.. i'm very, very sorry for that! i'll try to post for you as often as possible, especially since i've been thinking about a few new characters.. but you'll see that in time! enjoy reading <3

Tinder - an ordinary dating app, designed to help people in interpersonal contacts. In fact it was. It has been known for a long time that people through the screen of a phone or laptop were much, much bolder than when talking face to face. Because what guy starts the conversation by sending a picture of his dick, shamelessly asks for a picture of tits or offers a blowjob at the back of his car? It was really, really disgusting.

But for some reason, tinder ended up on your home screen.

Creating an account was very simple. Just like choosing the right photos and creating a good description. However, the stairs began when you had to choose the age group of a potential partner.

You bit your lip. The 30+ option seemed really tempting but for some reason strangely immoral. You were a student and your previous relationships were with boys your age or a year or two older. To be honest, you were bored with it. You were bored being their second mother. You needed someone to take care of you. You and your needs. Who will provide care and call you his good, little girl.

Create an account.

The first few days really surprised you, really. You've never seen so many dicks in your life and learned new, rather strange terms for your pussy. But after a week, a profile appeared in your inbox that caught your attention.

His name was Leon and his profile was almost empty - a short description and two photos, of which only one showed his face and figure. He was handsome, really handsome - medium length, brown hair with a parting on the right. The bangs fell on one side of his face, covering his wild but deep look. Jaw, nicely outlined with a slight beard. His muscular stature made you shiver and his mind began to imagine what he looked like without clothes.

Be my pretty girl.

You wrote almost every day, nothing perverted. He asked how was your day at the university, how you were feeling, if you had dinner. He was nice, just like that. Sometimes he sent photos of him sitting in his apartment, with a glass of whiskey or in some expensive restaurant that you could never afford. You also sent photos - when you were sitting at lectures or drinking coffee during your lunch break. At some point, you moved from the application to SMS, it was much more convenient. A month passed until he finally offered a face-to-face meeting.

The cafe was quite a trite place but it didn't bother you. You dressed in the prettiest clothes you had in the closet, you did delicate makeup. You looked really pretty - a young girl going to her big man. It was so perverted.. But how exciting.

The cafe he chose was expensive from just looking at it. You pushed the door uncertainly and started looking around the premises in search of Leon. And you found him.

He sat at a small table at the other end of the room. The navy blue shirt perfectly covered his muscles at the sight of which saliva gathered in your mouth.

"Fuck, behave normal." you scolded in your mind, taking the first steps towards him. He was handsome, really handsome. "Hey" you greeted shyly, stopping next to the table "Um, Leon.. Right?”

His blue irises met yours and oh god.. They were the most beautiful eyes you've ever looked into.

"Hey" his smile was even more beautiful. "You look beautiful" pointed to the place opposite him that you obediently took.

"Thank you, you too.. I mean, you look beautiful too.. I mean, you look really hot." what? Your cheeks were burning with live fire. Since when do you talk such nonsense? "I... I'm sorry, d-don't want-"

"Hey hey, calm down." he laughed "It's okay, thank you." the tone of his voice acted strangely on you, as if soothing. "I ordered coffee, caramel cappuccino, right?"

“Yeah” you nodded. You didn't think he would remember.

At first, the conversation didn't really stick, mainly because of your shyness, but it passed. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours. You didn't even notice how it was slowly getting dark outside. Only when the waitress came to inform you about the approaching closing time did you realize how long you had been talking.

Leon offered to escort you. It was cold outside, so he threw his leather jacket on your shoulders. It smelled so good, fresh perfume combined with the scent of deodorant and a slight smell of tobacco. This mixture created a deadly smell that caused your brain to turn off at his words.

Naughty.

"It's here." you stopped in front of the old tenement house where you rented an apartment.

Leon looked first at the building and then at you and smiled sadly. "Then," he came up to you and gently put his face in his big hand, "Thank you for the nice time." he was close, very close and your heart jumped to your throat. "I hope we will do it again soon."

You looked at his lips and tingling appeared in the lower part of the abdomen. "Or maybe.. Will you go upstairs?” You suggested again looking into his eyes "I have good wine.." you bit your lip "Then I'll order a taxi so you don't come back alone."

For the hundredth time today, he gave you this stunning smile "Good wine?"

・・・・★・・・・★ ・・・・

His lips were everywhere. They left blood trails on your heated skin. Your hands wandered over his bare back, scratching it lightly as he sucked and bit your already hardened nipples. God, his mouth was even more perfect than you imagined. And the fun was just beginning.

Leon was in no hurry to go anywhere, kissing slowly your skin under your breasts, around your belly button. He only stopped when he reached the beginning of your panties, lifting his head and pawing at you with a questioning look. You only nodded quickly as a sign of agreement and let out a quiet moan when you felt his hot kiss on your still clothed clit.

“I haven't done anything yet, and you're already so wet…” he gasped, grabbing your lacy lingerie with the intention of getting rid of it quickly “So wet just for me.”

Your panties landed somewhere on the bedroom floor and Leon settled himself comfortably between your legs. He started kissing the inside of your thigh and his stubble scratched you pleasantly, however, when he moved his tongue along your pussy. A moan escaped your lips and your back arched as he began to slowly eat you out. He alternated between licking, sucking and even lightly biting your swollen bud, sending electric inpulses through your entire body. Your moans went from these quiet ones to loud, even pornographic ones. Damn, if Leon could do such things with his mouth, what could he do with his cock.

“You taste so good princess,” he moaned into your entrance, and immediately after that he inserted his tongue into you.

“F-fuck.” You gasped, tangling your fingers in his brown strands of hair. Your tongue was replaced by his fingers, pumping at a slow pace. He began sucking on your poor clitoris again and your ring finger and index finger slid out, bending in different directions from time to time. This dangerous mixture of sensations began to accumulate a knot in the pit of your body. Your thighs began to tremble slowly and your toes began to flex. “L-Leon. I'm coming.” You gasped tilting your head back.

He only smiled at your pussy, speeding up his movements a bit with his hand. Your lewd sounds made his cock ache and his boxers one hundred percent had a sizable precum stain.

“L-Leon!” the pleasure was getting closer and closer, and when it was about to come…. You felt the emptiness. The unpleasant cold teasing your wet pussy forced you to open your eyes and raise your head. “W-what. W-why.” your voice stumbled with every word you uttered. Leon smiled mischievously, straightening up. His pupils were huge, almost obscuring that beautiful blue color of his irises. He stared at you wordlessly, like an animal at its prey. “My little girl wanted to come?” curtly, his tone made you dizzy.

“Y-yes…”

“Yes what?” he grabbed the elastic band from his gray boxers.

“Please Leon… I-I want… I want you…” your head once again fell back onto the pillow beneath you. Watching him slowly undress was torture, something your eyes both craved and refused to desire. “I-I want you inside me".

“Good girl.” His boxers landed next to your panties and he towered over you. Even more heat was beating from him than from you. “Ready?”

You didn't even have time to answer. You sucked air into your lungs as the head of his cock began to caress your entrance, only to immediately slide into you up to his balls in one swift motion. The feeling was unearthly, and you swear, if he hadn't blocked your mouth with his own, the whole tenement would surely have heard you. “S-so tight.” groaned Leon leaning his forehead against yours “Are you sure.. Y-you fucked before me?” a quiet, silly laugh echoed in your ears.

“Stop talking and fuck me.” you didn't have to repeat yourself. His movements were slow at first. He loved the way your moans drifted out of your open mouth directly into his. How you raised your eyelids every now and then just to look at him for a second. Fuck, he fell for it.

As time passed, the slow pace began to get in the way. His body movements sped up wildly and your pornographic moans and gasps filled the room. So did the sound of your sweaty bodies slapping against each other. “S-so good, fuck.” He hid his head in the hollow of your neck. He felt his own knot of pleasure slowly begin to break.

“I'm coming.” You whispered in his ear, clenching your thighs making him thrust into you even harder and faster. Your mind whirled and your eyes rolled upward under your closed eyelids. You stopped hearing everything that was going on around you, making you completely miss Leon's question about contraception. You were literally a brainless mush that slowly lost itself in the approaching orgasm. “I- I'm coming!” not a second passed. Pleasure took control of your body and the loud cries of Leon's name filled the room. Your trembling thighs slaughtered him even harder and you curled up, sinking your teeth into his shoulder, sobbing quietly.

Leon himself didn't last long. That divine, warm feeling filled his mind and at the last second he slid out of you so that lines of hot cum flew onto your wet thigh. He himself sagged completely, crushing you with his weight. “T-that's my girl.” he purred as your trembling fingers began to massage his scalp. “M-my girl.”

With your other hand, you brushed away the hair stuck to your forehead, finally opening your eyes before which darkness appeared. Your head pulsed with pleasure and a quiet screech echoed in your ears. You felt so good, so damn good. “You know what?” you began, trying to normalize your breathing.

“Hm?��

“It seems, we forgot about the wine.”

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfiction #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon resident evil #leon keneddy fanfic #leon s kennedy x reader #id leon kennedy #leon smut #x reader #one shot #fem reader #smut #resident evil infinite darkness #resident evil smut

576 notes · View notes

azsazz · 2 months ago

Text

Destination Unknown (Part 2)

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Reqs: destination-unknown I still cannot let this one go, the best thing I’ve ever read on this app 😭 I wish he would choose us in another part // Writing this to notify you about the urgent need for pt2 of the following Rhys fics: waiting for the creation of Destination unknown

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1967

(Part 1)

Notes: It's been over 2 years since part 1 😅 If any of the OG's are here, you're troopers! ily 💙 breaking my own heart with this one too

_________________________________________

“The girl that saved us. She’s my mate.” The words rattle in your head again and again and a-godsdamned-gain.

The crinkle of the paper in your hands draws your attention to the present. You sigh, dropping the paper to the familiar deep cherry desk. The one that you’ve been sitting at for the last fifty years while the man you loved was trapped by a vicious witch under the mountain.

This place—Rhysand’s office within the House of Wind—had once been your place of solace. Your beacon of hope. You and the High Lord of the Night Court had spent a healthy amount of time in this room of the house, first as his second in command, and then as his lover. It had been one of the places you swore you could still feel him when he was prisoner beneath her reign.

You had taken over like any second would, made sure that Velaris stayed hidden and safe. There weren’t many executive decisions to be made in the last fifty years, menial things like the agreement to build a new wing of the Rainbow, making sure that the city could still deal and trade without being snuffed out.

Now, this office serves as a reminder. A reminder of what you lost. The male that you gave your heart to, the same one who’d survived the horrors of Amarantha’s reign, made it back to the Night Court safely, with another woman’s name on his lips.

Feyre, he’d admitted, violet eyes wide and haunted with not only the horrors he so desperately tried to lock away, but with shock and surprise. He found his mate, the voice in your head rings again.

As much as it tears your heart to shreds, Rhysand deserves nothing more. You’ve always had an inkling that you weren’t his mate. He’d occasionally make offhanded comments about dreams he had, visions, he’d sometimes call them. Listening to the horrors he’d been through, surrounded by the rest of his Inner Circle, those sights had made sense.

It’s been two weeks since Rhysand has been back. Recovering. Mor had taken it upon herself as caregiver to her cousin. Cassian and Azriel visited the High Lord in his wing of the house often. Amren, too. The side you couldn’t bring yourself to pay visit to.

He’s asked for you. You can’t count the number of times Mor has barged into this very office—the one you rarely leave these days—and demanded that you come see him. That you’re hurting him worse by staying away. Now that Rhysand is back, that Amarantha is gone for good and the city no longer has to hide, there are things to do, cities to check in on, damage that needs to be assessed, and courts that need correspondence.

It's given you an escape. You can’t muster up the confidence to go visit Rhysand just as he can’t do the same to visit you. You’re terrified of what he’ll say, the very thing you’ve been trying to wrap your head around since the night of his return. To accept the inevitable.

That he’s no longer yours.

You smooth the wrinkled paper out on the desk, trying to refocus. It’s late. A gentle breeze sweeps in through the balcony doors, a chill that skitters down your back. The stars and moon shine brightly in the sky, and for a moment, you envy their light, their happiness. It seems that they’re even brighter since the return of the High Lord.

You can’t help that your mind wanders. To her. You wonder what she looks like, how she acts. She must be confident, strong-willed. She must be beautiful. You hope more than anything that she’s kind. She must be, for a human to give her life to save the Fae, the same ones that have abandoned the human-realm for their own selfish reasons.

In a way, it makes sense. Of course, the female who could take down someone as powerful as Amarantha would be Rhys’ mate.

There’s a soft knock on the study room door. One that makes you freeze. It’s not Mor, because she wouldn’t have knocked, she would have stormed into the room, he bouncy, blonde hair swishing behind her shoulders and a fire in her eyes. The both of you have leaned on each other for fifty years, you consider her one of your closest friends. But not even she could convince you to see Rhysand.

You’ve tried, too. Tried to make it to that side of the house, to where, admittedly, you’d slept in his bed the entirety of his time away. When you could sleep, that is. Surrounded by the night-chilled scent of him, lingering on the pillows.

The abrupt change from not sleeping there at all has been taxing.

You stand when the door cracks, busy yourself with the papers scattered around the desk. They’re organized perfectly, but you leaf through them again. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, not even when he enters the room fully and the doors snicks behind him.

Your name is a mummer. Relief? Maybe. Sorrow. Yes. The. Sound makes your throat tighten. You never thought you’d hear your name on his lips again.

The papers in your hands crinkle again.

You don’t know what to say. Your throat is clogged with emotion and your heartbeat is a racing mess. Your knees are seconds from giving out. Your fingers are trembling. You’re not ready for this, not ready to face him again.

You can feel those violet eyes on you like you have a thousand times before. Can feel the way he’s drinking you in. Or maybe he’s comparing you to how you looked the night he left, the same disheveled hair but for a much different reason. You’re sure you look worse with the dark circles under your eyes and the way your shoulders sag like there’s a hundred pounds draped across them.

Suddenly, you feel underdressed. You should have cleaned up your appearance, taken a shower, ran a brush through your hair.

Tears sting your eyes when your sabotaging mind tells you that it no longer matters.

You stack the papers together and tap them on the desk. “I’ve kept everything as much of the same as I could.” It’s difficult to admit, but talking about what’s been going on in the City of Starlight is a safe topic. Surely, he will want to know, will want to visit soon, show that he’s still the strong and in charge High Lord he was. “You’ll read about it in my reports.”

You say it like you’re ready to resign your position. You’d hate it if you could no longer help the city that you’ve loved and spent the last fifty years managing. Your heart breaks a little in your chest.

You’ve spent every moment since Rhysand’s come home writing the report. Spent every day of the last fifty years writing it, to be honest. In case there was a day that he’d come back. You haven’t left out a single detail.

The past two weeks have been spent refining it, removing some of the more inappropriate stories and comments now that he’s found his other half.

He says your name again, louder this time. You can hear the hurt in his tone, but he doesn’t move closer.

You continue to brush him off. Your head is spinning and you can barely breathe. You don’t know what to do. It feels as if the two of you are strangers. “Now that you’re back, I need to check on all of the other cities and camps within the Court,” your voice is tired. You don’t know what to think. He’s back, and he has a mate. Someone he’s destined to fall in love with. It hurts. “I’ve sent missives. I’m headed out in the morning.”

“Please,” he begs, and the emotion in his voice gives you pause. Makes your heart break. You know it isn’t easy, to be so vulnerable after having to be so strong for half a century. Tears sting your eyes. The tips of Rhysand’s shoes enter your line of vision. “Please, look at me.”

You shake your head and swallow thickly. If you look at him, see the devastation in his eyes, worse, the hope for his mate, it will destroy you. You know it will.

“Autumn has written, too,” you continue, but your voice trembles so much you’re not sure you can continue. You can gallivant all around the continent, but it won’t change the fact that the male you love is back, and has a mate. Eventually, you’ll come home, and when you do, maybe she’ll be here, maybe they’ll be joyous and in love and— “They’re asking for resources, to help rebuild.”

This time, he doesn’t hesitate. An unknown force drives him around the edge of the desk, and before you know it the papers in your hands are hitting the wood and you’re facing him, your chin tilting up by his gentle hands.

Tears leak from the corners of your eyes and you clamp them shut before they latch onto those violet pools you know so well. You don’t want to see the heartbreak in them. You don’t want to see the remorse. You can’t. You’re not ready to give him up, because he’s all that. You’ve ever loved and—

“Please,” he says brokenly, so helplessly that you can’t help yourself.

You peek open your eyes.

And Rhysand looks utterly crushed.

His own eyes are filled with tears. Fingers trembling as his thumbs stroke your cheeks, catching the unstoppable rivers.

He looks almost exactly like he had the night he left. Older, somehow. His violet eyes aren’t lit with excitement and arousal, but burnt out with the horrors of what he’s been through. You can’t even imagine what happened to him in those fifty years, but you know Rhysand well enough to know that he would have done anything to protect his people, to help in any way that he could.

There are no words to be exchanged. You and him have always been like this, on the same page. You know exactly what he’s thinking, and you know exactly what he is.

You sob into him as he presses his mouth against yours. You cling to his arms, digging your nails into his skin. It’s a desperate kiss, too harsh and your teeth clack together in a disjointed plea. It feels nothing like you know. It feels final.

Like this is the last taste of him you’re ever going to get.

“Darling,” his voice breaks when you part. In this moment, you know. That this is all real. Rhysand is back. He’s back and he has a mate.

“I know Rhys,” your words are a wet whisper, and the smile that you try to force onto your face wobbles and falls. You clutch his arms tightly. You don’t want to let go but you know that you have to. “I know.”

#rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand/reader #rhys x reader #rhys/reader #rhys angst #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acotarxreader #rhys #azsazz

385 notes · View notes

floralcyanide · 9 months ago

Text

― ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴊᴀᴠɪ

After realizing you've had enough of being single, you decide to branch out further into your romantic life on a whim. What you don't expect is to meet someone as a result. or ; In which you converse in letters and phone calls with Javi Rivera, an active-duty military man.

part two

↝ pairing: Javier "Javi" Rivera / Fem!Reader

↝ warnings: long distance, reader has anxiety, kinda slow burn?, kissing, mentions of death

↝ word count: 5.3k

↝ author's note: I enjoyed writing this so much. this is the first time I've written something this long in a while. I hope ya'll enjoy! there will definitely be a part two and it's gonna be spicy so be prepared. (;

masterlist ⋇ divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Your dating life has reached a new low. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge- none of them work for you despite your incessant attempts. It’s so bad that your friends have set you up on blind dates, all of which fail or turn into what people like to call situationships. You end up wasting your time on someone thinking it’s going great, and then suddenly, it ends in a fiery crash or sometimes plain old rejection. You’re so tired of dating. Even your university campus has no luck in the dating pool. But then, one night (after drinking too much box wine and scrolling through dating apps begrudgingly), your best friend has an idea.

“Have you ever like, dated long distance?” they ask, swirling their wine around their glass.

“Not really,” you shrug, taking a sip from yours, “I feel like it’d be harder than dating someone close by, which is already a lot.”

“True,” they sigh, “Ooh! Maybe use one of those pen pal apps?”

“Pen pal apps?” you raise an eyebrow, locking your phone before tossing it on the couch in disgust, “What am I, nine years old?”

Your best friend rolls their eyes, “It’s not something just kids do, you know. A lot of people make genuine connections through letters. It’s a lot better than Tinder or some shitty dating app at this point. You may as well try.”

“I guess you’re right,” you glance down at your phone, “I’m running out of options here.”

After Googling and scrolling through search results, you hum, “Maybe I could do one of the military pen pal programs. That seems promising.”

“Yes! Get you a military man!” your best friend squeals, and you can’t help the giddy smile that grows on your lips.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you say, and your best friend shakes your shoulder excitedly, “But if it doesn’t work out, I’m just going to die alone, I guess. At this point, it’s less stressful.”

Your best friend snorts, “If we make it to thirty and we’re both still single, we could get married.”

“I love you, but if I had to spend the rest of my life with you, I’d probably go insane.”

“You have some killer jokes, kid. You’re already stuck with me, so sorry.”

That following day, you do a deep dive into all things pen-palling. You decide to sit down at your desk and type up a letter, but it feels too wrong like it needs to be handwritten instead. So, you move your laptop aside, pull out some notebook paper and a pencil, and start your first letter. Except, you aren’t sure what to say first. Then, when you start writing, your handwriting annoys you, and after that, you think your tone is off. You end up scrapping half a tree by the time you start actually writing a decent letter. You introduce yourself and state where you’re from, explaining you’re in college and what you wish to do after graduating. You don’t dive into too much detail but give enough away so your possible pen pal has something to respond to. You also sprinkle in some questions for them to answer as well. You reread your letter, finally satisfied with what you’ve written, before folding it and sliding it into an envelope. You go back to your phone to see where to send the letter, writing down the location along with your name and address on the front.

Life goes on for a little while, and you actually forget you sent a letter to some random person in the military until one day, your best friend is sifting through the mail you tossed onto your counter.

“Uhh, what’s this?” they call out from the kitchen as you surf through Netflix in the living room.

“What’s what?”

“You got a letter from some dude named Javier?” your best friend says it as more of a question than a statement.

You scrunch up your nose and eyebrows in confusion before finally settling on a show you and your best friend have seen a million times already, walking into the kitchen.

“Let me see.”

Your best friend hands over the letter, and you scan the envelope carefully. Javier Rivera. It doesn’t sound familiar to you, but then you notice where the letter is from.

“Oh shit,” you flip the envelope over and tear it open.

“What is it?”

“It’s the pen pal thing!” you say, voice raised in shock, “I didn’t think someone would actually respond.”

“Oh yeah,” your best friend nods, “I forgot about that. I figured you chickened out on it because you never mentioned it again.”

“I didn’t chicken out,” you trail off, taking in the meticulous handwriting of the letter.

Dearest Pen Pal,

Thank you for sending your letter. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much it meant to me to receive it. I’m Javier, but everyone calls me Javi. I’m the same age as you and have been to college myself. I joined the military for personal reasons, but I haven’t regretted it yet. Your career path seems interesting, and I hope you succeed in the rest of your studies.

Your best friend hovers over your shoulder, also reading the letter.

“He seems cute,” your best friend giggles.

Javi answers some of your random questions and goes on to say he anticipates your next letter. He also says that if you’d like, he’d send a photo of himself next time. Your best friend has a field day with that.

“Oh my gosh! What if he’s hot?” they gasp.

“Who knows? I wouldn’t care if he wasn’t, anyway. It’s cool to talk to someone I’ve never met over letters.”

“True. But bonus points if he is hot.”

You scoff as you fold the letter up and put it back in the envelope.

When your best friend leaves later on, you immediately bolt to your desk and write your letter.

Dear Javi,

I’m glad my letter found you well. Thanks for the hope in me, I definitely need it. College is fun, but it’s super exhausting. I don’t think I asked in my last letter, but where are you from? Also, what did you major in while in school? I’d love to see what you look like and put a face to your name. What military branch are you in, and what do you want to do with your experience when you’re back in the States? Sorry for all the questions again! I’m just super curious about things. If this letter reaches you sooner than later this time around, I hope you have a great Thanksgiving.

You wrap up your letter, albeit a little shorter than the last one, and slip it into your mailbox ASAP. This time, you won’t forget you sent it.

When the following letter arrives, it’s early December. You hastily remove your scarf, coat, and wet snow boots at your front door before opening the letter immediately. When you pull the letter from the envelope, a photo falls onto the floor. You pick it up, and it’s a small picture of who you assume is Javi, all decked out in his military uniform. Okay, your best friend was right on the money, he is pretty cute.

Dearest Pen Pal,

I had a decent Thanksgiving. I hope yours was better than mine! I’m from Miami, Florida. I went to school in Muskogee, Oklahoma, and while I was there, I studied weather phenomena and chased storms. It was a whole thing, but I’ll get into that later. And I don’t mind all the questions. I think it’ll be fun getting to know each other.

Javi explains what branch he’s in and also admits he doesn’t know what he’s going to do after the military as of yet. He talks about his Thanksgiving and wishes you a Merry Christmas if he doesn’t get to communicate with you before then. You decide to send a photo of yourself back to him, digging out your Polaroid camera when you go to your bedroom to respond to his letter. You touch up your makeup a little and make sure your hair isn’t absolutely a mess before taking a photo. Sitting down to write your letter, you aren’t sure how to react to the photo Javi sent. You don’t want to be weird, but you also want him to know that you think he’s attractive.

Dear Javi,

I love the photo you sent, and you look pretty dapper in your uniform. I’m sending a picture of myself, too. Chasing storms sounds very interesting. Please tell me more about that!

You rattle off some things you have done while in school, talking about the places you have traveled to over the years and the people you’ve met. You gush about your best friend, especially.

So far, you’re probably the most intriguing person I’ve talked to, Javi. Not everyone can say they’re a storm chaser, you add.

You polish off your letter, which ends up being two pages long (three if you count the back on the first page, too.) You neatly fold up the paper and slide it into an envelope. You don’t expect a reply until New Year because of the amount of mail that will be coming in and out of the base. Javi is stationed on the other side of the country from you and may be moved out of the country if needed.

As you expected, it isn’t until a month and a half later that you receive a letter from Javi again. It’s a long letter- a few pages total this time. The letter is in a Christmas card, and it’s signed by Javi. You immediately hang the card on your refrigerator door so you can look at it daily. He talks about how his holidays went, how all the guys on his base called home or were able to FaceTime their family. Javi asks how your holidays have gone and showers you with compliments over the photo you sent him. You can’t help but feel your stomach flutter at his words.

Over the next few months, you and Javi write back and forth diligently. You know just about everything about Javi, and he knows almost everything about you. You feel like there’s something he’s keeping from you, possibly the storm chasing he had brought up, but you don’t push it. He will tell you when he’s ready. And there’s also some stuff about your life you’d rather wait to explain as well. In your last letter, you wrote your email and phone number so that Javi can communicate with you in other ways. You’re able to guess how long it takes the letters to get to Javi, so around the time you expect them to get to him, you’re giddy. You anxiously await a phone call or email any day now.

It’s August when your phone rings with a call from an unknown number. You have had such a long day- school for several hours, then work immediately after in the evening. You can’t help but wonder who could be calling at 9 pm. You make yourself comfy on the couch with your favorite beverage before answering the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Javi. Is this the right number?”

You nearly choke on your sip of drink, “Oh shit. Hi! Yes, this is the right number!”

Javi laughs from the other end, and you decide you want to hear that laugh again so badly.

“Sorry I’m calling so late over there. The phone was surprisingly available, and I got your letter today saying I could call. So I did,” Javi said.

“It’s okay,” you shrug, even though he can’t see, “I just got home from work, actually. So perfect timing.”

“Great. How was your day?”

The two of you spend about an hour on the phone, relishing having an actual conversation in real time.

“I’m so glad to finally hear your voice,” Javi says after a natural pause in conversation, “That’s not too cheesy, right?”

You snort, “It kind of is, but it’s cute. I’m glad to hear your voice, too.”

After another ten minutes, Javi sadly admits that he has to hang up since it’s almost dinner time where he is.

“We should talk again sometime if you’re able to,” you smile, biting at your fingernail nervously.

You hope he calls again, but letters will always suffice just fine.

“I’ll try my best. Maybe sometime next week?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say, pulling the phone away from your ear so you can silently kick your feet in excitement.

“Alright, then. Talk to you later,” Javi says.

“See ya,” you grin, and the call concludes.

It isn’t the following week that he calls, but the week after that. Javi discloses that he sent a surprise in the letter he just mailed. He also slips up and says it’s almost his birthday, and you immediately have an idea. After your long conversation on the phone, asking some questions here and there about certain things he likes that you didn’t already know before, you decide to send Javi a package.

You send a postcard from your home state, some non-perishable snacks, socks that were his favorite color that he could wear when not on base, notebooks he could write letters in, some fun pens to go with the notebooks, and a birthday card. After signing it, you leave a lip print on the card just to test the waters. You’ve come to really like Javi over the last year, and you wonder if he likes you back. Sometimes, he’ll be flirty in letters or over the phone, but nothing too crazy. Nothing that gives you alarm bells that he likes you in the way that you like him. So, you’re taking a leap of faith.

A few weeks after sending the package, you get Javi's phone call while doing some class work at your desk. You spin around in the chair aimlessly as you answer the phone.

“A kiss, huh? That’s cute.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little something to remind you of me,” you say.

“It’s definitely not nothing,” Javi teases, “I think you want to kiss me.”

Your ears grow hot at the sound of Javi’s voice deepening in playfulness.

“And so what if I do? There’s nothing you can do about it,” you bite back with just as much playfulness.

“Are you sure about that?” Javi says, a knowing lilt in his voice.

“What do you mean?” you furrow your eyebrows, stopping the chair from spinning entirely so you can focus.

“I’m most likely coming home for Christmas this year, but I still have to work out some stuff,” Javi says, an edge of excitement in his voice, “I’d like to possibly see you.”

“Oh,” you say, your voice squeaking, “Really? You want to see me?”

“Of course I wanna see you,” Javi chuckles, “We’ve been corresponding for a while. I’d like to finally see you in person.”

You suddenly feel like you’re going to throw up, but in a good way. You’re sick with nervous excitement.

“O-okay,” you grin, “I’ll be finished with the semester at the beginning of December. Depending on when and where you want to meet, I can ask off from work.”

Javi has family not too far from where you live, and he wants to stop and see, so the two of you agree to meet in a city that’s basically halfway. December 20th is the day you’re supposed to meet Javi after a year of conversing through letters and over the phone. Who would have thought, right? That some random idea from your best friend would have led you here? Speaking of which, your best friend is beside themselves with excitement just like you. You called them immediately after hanging up with Javi.

“When you get married, make sure to thank me!” they say half-jokingly.

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes, trying to stifle a grin, “What if we don’t like each other when we meet, though? What if it’s awkward? What if we don’t have anything to talk about? What if-”

“Hush!” your best friend shushes you, “It will go fine. It will go great. In fact, you’re going to have a splendid time.”

“I guess you’re right,” you sigh, eyeballing the photo of Javi you have pinned to your corkboard over your desk.

“I’m always right,” your best friend giggles.

It’s now the end of your semester, and you’re beyond excited for a few reasons. In a week, you meet Javi, and this coming Spring semester is your last. So, for the time being, you’ll be finished with college. You come home from your final exam and start making a packing list. You’re staying at a hotel in the city where you’re meeting Javi for a day or two, depending on how things go. You have so much to do before going on the mini trip that if you didn’t have a list planned out for everything, your head would surely fly off your shoulders. You have to wrap gifts for your friends and family, pack your bag, clean your apartment, and put up decorations for the party you and your best friend are throwing for Christmas.

Deciding to surprise Javi, you get him a gift for Christmas. It’s a wool sweater you think will fit nicely and a beautiful, deep color that you figure will compliment his skin tone. You carefully put the sweater in a robe box, taping the sides shut and signing your name on the tag before putting it under the Christmas tree. You managed to put up the large tree by your lonesome and didn’t kill yourself doing it, so you considered it a win. After wrapping a few more gifts and stuffing them under your tree, you check the time. It’s a little past dinnertime, and you decide it’s probably best to finally pack your bag for tomorrow.

A melatonin gummy is definitely in your future so you can get some sleep, or else you’ll toss and turn in an anxious fit all night. After finishing up packing as lightly as you can muster, you settle into bed. When you wake in the morning, you get a text from an unknown number, which you assume is from Javi’s cell, letting you know he is getting on his flight. You almost quite literally jump out of bed before hitting the shower and getting ready. You take your time fixing your hair and makeup, picking out a cute but comfortable outfit for your 2-hour drive.

After getting your belongings and the gift inside your car, you shoot your best friend a text letting them know you’re leaving your apartment and that you’ll text when you get to the airport. Taking a few deep breaths, you crank your car and head off. You are deep in your thoughts the entire ride, not evening singing along to your music most of the time. What if Javi decides he isn’t impressed by what he sees? You try to push away your anxiety as you near the airport. Finding parking after circling around for a while, you hurry to grab the gift and go inside. It’s hectic, considering it’s five days until Christmas, but you get through TSA without a hitch. You find the coffee shop where you and Javi agreed to meet and sit at a table in the corner. You scroll through social media, trying not to panic. You text back and forth with your best friend for a while until you receive a message from Javi saying he’s landed. Suddenly, an icy, numbing nervousness runs through your veins. You take a deep breath and tell yourself it will be okay, and everything will be fine.

You decide to meet Javi at his gate and return to the coffee shop. Getting up from your seat, you shake yourself off a little before walking to the gate where Javi is to exit his flight. You aimlessly check your phone every five minutes out of anxiety. People start to leave from the corridor, dragging their carry-ons with them. Suddenly, you spot Javi walking out with the crowd, his face turned downward at his phone. When he looks up, he has to do a double-take when he sees you. You can’t help the grin that plasters your face.

“Hi,” Javi grins back as he approaches you, taking in your appearance fully for the first time, “Is it okay if I hug you?”

“You don't have to ask, silly,” you roll your eyes playfully, setting the gift by your feet before allowing Javi to pull you into him.

You wrap your arms around him, your nose buried in his shoulder. He’s dressed in his uniform, much to your delight, meaning you get to see how handsome he looks in person.

“Don’t tell me that’s for me,” Javi gives you a jokingly dissatisfied look when he pulls away from you, his eyes darting to the gift beside you.

“Would you kill me if it was?” you say, picking it up and handing it to him.

“Nah,” Javi waves you off, leaning down to dig in his carry-on for something, “Besides, I got you something, too.”

“Javi,” you drag out his name in annoyance, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did. It’s Christmas,” Javi smiles, secretly enjoying how you say his name in person.

You both go to baggage claim and the coffee shop before opening your gifts. You and Javi match each others’ stride, your hands accidentally brushing against one another a few times. Finally, Javi decides to throw caution to the wind and grabs your hand, sliding his fingers between yours. You glance down before smiling at him, trying to hide how giddy you are from the simple gesture. When you arrive at the coffee shop, you sit in the same corner you were previously in and settle in your seats.

“So,” Javi slides his gift over to you, pulling his toward him, “What’d you get me?”

“Why don’t you open it and see?” you lean over the table in wait, your smile from earlier still not quite leaving your lips.

“That I will do,” Javi says, carefully opening his gift.

“This is a lovely color,” he pulls the sweater out and fully takes it in, “Very soft. You did a great job because I love sweaters.”

“I’m glad you love it,” you sink into your seat with relief.

“Now, open yours,” Javi pushes your gift in your direction with a single finger.

“Is it going to explode in my face?” you joke as you pull the wrapping off.

“I swear it won’t,” Javi laughs.

You open the box to reveal a beautiful necklace with your birthstone dangling from the chain.

“This looks expensive, Javi. Please tell me you didn’t spend an arm and a leg on this,” you gasp.

“No promises,” Javi shrugs, getting up from his seat and walking behind you, holding out a hand for the necklace, “May I?”

You gently place the jewelry into his palm, lifting your hair so Javi can put the necklace around your neck. His fingers brush your skin lightly as he clasps the chain successfully, “There we go.”

Javi sits and admires how the necklace falls onto your collarbone with a glimmer in his eyes, “Looks beautiful on you.”

You’re nearly this close to being on the floor, curled into an inconsolable ball. Instead of doing that, you cover your face in embarrassment.

“Gosh, thank you for the gift, Javi,” you move your hands from your face, “I wasn’t expecting something so stunning. I would’ve gotten you something slightly better if I had known.”

“You can’t sit here and tell me this wool sweater wasn’t pricey enough. It’s okay, you know. Besides, I like giving gifts I know someone will love; the price doesn’t matter.”

You sigh, shaking your head with a smile and resting your chin on your fist, “Whatever you say, Javi.”

Javi mimics your position but reaches his other hand out to wrap it around your wrist gently, “I love it when you say my name.”

You stare at each other momentarily, just taking each other in. It had been a year of wondering what Javi was like in person- how tall he was, how he smelled, how he carried himself. You realize he has a million freckles on his face that you never noticed in the photos he sent. Javi brushes his thumb over your pulse point, and you’re close to losing your composure. You’re both so wrapped up in drinking each other in that you nearly jump out of your skin when the barista calls someone’s name for their order.

You compose yourself, but Javi lightly chuckles at your facial expression.

“I’m super awkward sometimes, but you know that already,” you try to joke about the situation instead of dying of shyness.

“It’s okay, I think it’s cute.”

“You’re going to make me turn into a puddle if you don’t stop,” you cover your face again, the tips of your ears burning.

Javi just laughs again. You realize his laugh is better in person than over the phone.

Over your order of coffee and iced tea, you and Javi decide to have a proper dinner later on in the day. Both of you are pretty tired and would appreciate refreshing yourselves at your respective hotels first. You hold hands again while exiting the airport and offer Javi a ride to where he’s staying.

“It’s just a walk down the block. I’ll be fine.”

“But it’s cold,” you frown.

“I’ll live, I promise.” Javi pulls your head to his chest before planting a kiss on the top of it.

Your body grows warm at the endearing gesture, “See you later?’

“See you later,” Javi smiles before making his way out of the parking garage.

You immediately call your best friend when you get in the car and discuss how the initial meeting went while on your way to the hotel.

“Did you kiss?!” they squeal.

“Not yet,” you say, “I don’t expect anything to happen today. We held hands, though.”

“Spicy!” your best friend says, “Next thing you know, you’ll be having kids.”

“Will you ever be quiet?” you jokingly ask your best friend.

You take a well-needed nap after checking into the hotel, setting an alarm for an hour from the time you laid down. When you wake up, you notice it’s snowing outside. The place Javi wants to take you is a few blocks away from his and your hotels, and you figure you’ll enjoy the snow during your walk.

You fix your makeup a little and add some final touches here and there to your face and hair before deciding on one of the skirts you brought. A thick sweater and some tights are thrown with it, and you’re ready to go. Javi shoots you a message asking if you’re ready, and you respond quickly before leaving the hotel. The evening is pleasant, with the snow falling softly for the entire duration of your walk. When you arrive at the restaurant, Javi is waiting for you at the door, as handsome as ever in some black slacks, a dress shirt, and a heavy petticoat draped over his shoulders. He wraps an arm around you as you both enter the restaurant, where you’re immediately whisked away to a table with a nice view. Wine is ordered, and you take a moment to drink Javi in as he sits across from you. You nearly have to pinch yourself to believe this is real and actually happening.

“So,” you lean forward, hand tucked under your chin, “You never told me about your endeavors while in college. I’ve been dying to know about that storm chasing you brought up but never knew when to ask.”

Javi smiles, “Yes, it was a very wild time in my life. I don’t talk about it often. What did you want to know?”

“Why did you do it? Just curious.”

“Well, Javi clears his throat, “It was actually my best friend Kate’s idea. She had this big project that required extensive information about storms and tornadoes in particular.”

“Gotcha,” you lean back in your chair, “Ever see any scary storms?”

“We saw a few, but the scariest one was a five on the Fujita scale. It didn’t end very well for us,” Javi casts his eyes down.

“You don’t have to keep talking about it if you don’t want to,” you reach out your hand to put on top of Javi’s, sensing the topic is touchy.

“No, it’s something you need to know about me. So I’ll tell you,” he explains, “It was me, Kate, and three of our other friends, Addy, Praveen, and Jeb, working on the project together. We didn’t anticipate the tornado to be as strong as it got, and everyone but Kate and I ended up dying as a result of being caught in the storm.”

“I’m so sorry, Javi. That sounds scary and awful. I’m glad you made it through that,” you frown, and Javi meets your eyes for a moment.

“Sometimes I wonder why I’m one of the ones who survived. It bothered me a lot, so much that I decided to drop out of college and go into the military. I needed some stability in my life after that.”

“I understand,” you say, “We can talk about something else if you’d like. I know this is probably hard for you to think about.”

The rest of the evening is spent laughing over stories of Javi and his late friends and the ones he’s made in the military. You tell him wild stories of you and your best friend, some of which he couldn’t believe. After a few too many glasses of wine, the two of you decide to call it a night.

“I had a wonderful time,” you say as Javi hooks your arm with his, and the two of you leave the restaurant.

It’s still snowing lightly, and the temperature has dropped significantly. You pull your coat closer to your chest. Javi notices and opts to wrap his arm around you, pulling you into his side to warm you.

“I had a great time, too,” Javi grins.

He walks you to your hotel, and you thank him for dinner.

“Heading out in the morning?” you ask as the two of you stand outside the hotel entrance.

“Yes,” Javi says, his hands shoved into his coat pockets, “I’m seeing my aunt and uncle and then heading to Miami for my parents and sister.”

“That’s good,” you nod, “I am having a Christmas party with some friends and family in a few days, and I’m looking forward to it.”

“Sounds fun,” Javi says, and you notice the two of you don’t really want to depart quite yet, but you must.

“You should probably get back. It’s getting cold and late,” you nudge Javi’s arm with yours.

“Yeah, I should,” he trails off, his eyes not leaving yours.

For a moment, you stare into Javi’s eyes, taking in their color and the length of his eyelashes. Before you realize it, you’re both leaning in. Javi slides his hand up your neck to cup your face, his skin warm despite the freezing air. He guides your face to his, his eyes fluttering shut as he gently presses his lips to yours. Your eyes close, too, and you allow Javi to take control of the kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. When it’s time for air, you both pull away.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” Javi whispers, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

“Same here,” you say, playing with the curls at the nape of Javi’s neck.

“I should get going,” Javi frowns, “But I will definitely keep in touch the best I can over the next few days.”

“Okay,” you say, “Enjoy your Christmas.”

Javi begins to walk away, and you turn to go inside your hotel. But then Javi pauses, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Wait, what are you doing New Year's Eve?” he asks, and you can’t help the grin that sneaks up on your face.

“Depends. What are you doing?”

“Anything with you.”

#javier rivera #javier rivera x reader #javir ivera #javi rivera x reader #javi x reader #javier “javi” rivera #javier “javi” rivera x reader #twisters #twisters 2024 #twisters movie #twisters fic #twisters fanfic #twisters x reader #anthony ramos #anthony ramos x reader #floralcyanide writes

435 notes · View notes

whatiswrongwithpeople · 4 months ago

Text

I keep going over the world we knew (p.1)

a player 230/ Thanos/ Su-Bong x fem!reader fic

summary: “It had always been him and her against the world. But if you've been fighting against the world for years, how do you react when you suddenly realize that your best friend has become your world?”

warnings: none really except the usual Thanos/Squid Game stuff. Maybe slightly ooc Thanos? , Written in my notes app.

note: I am just SO in love with him and had to get this idea out of my head. I really hope you enjoy it and that there aren’t any major mistakes!! Also there will be a part 2, I am already working on it!

Part 2

It had been years since Choi Su-Bong had seen her. But there she was, standing in front of him in the same cruel, soulless environment. Player 230—or Thanos, as he liked to call himself —had never imagined that his past would catch up with him like this. And most certainly not in this place.

Thanos shook his head, his purple strands bouncing with the movement. He had avoided thinking about her. Hell, he had worked hard to bury all the memories of their childhood, to force himself to forget. But there she was. [Y/N], looking just as he remembered—except colder, more guarded. Features, that were so soft in his memory, now hardened. Sparkling eyes that had haunted his dreams on more instances than he cared to admit, now dull. But all in all she still looked as angelic to him as she had back then.

When their eyes met, a brief, silent acknowledgment passed between them. [Y/N]’s gaze hardened immediately, keeping the mental wall she had put up years ago firmly in place. Thanos had expected this. He knew she would hate him. Hell, he had wanted her to hate him. But it didn’t stop the flash of regret from hitting him like a sucker punch to the gut.

For a moment, the air between them thickened, and he felt the tension. But Thanos—Su-Bong—quickly decided to ignore his feelings. He wasn’t one to get all sentimental. Not now, and especially not in front of all these people.

"Still playing the silent game, huh?" he muttered, head dipping in her direction. The tone in his voice was smug, as though none of this bothered him. "Some things never change."

[Y/N] didn't even flinch. She glanced at him for a moment, then turned her back to him, choosing to stand away from the others. Her silence was a warning, but Thanos wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. He watched her closely, trying to gauge her every move, convincing himself that it was for the sake of the games and all , but he knew this was different. This wasn’t just about the games he currently found himself trapped in. This was about the game he had been playing all his life, far more personal than any debts could ever be.

—-

The first game had passed and Thanos found himself behind the finish line. The gunshots, the chaos, the fear—it was all a blur inside of his high brain. But even in the midst of his rush, Thanos hadn’t been able to help himself but keep his eyes on her. [Y/N]. She had survived, sharp eyes calculating her every step. He was just about to make a cocky comment about her tactics when suddenly his mind wandered back to the past.

That one memory.

He had been younger, somewhat quieter. A boy with too many troubles and just as many questions. And [Y/N], she had somehow always been the answer. Even when he had found himself going down the dark path of addiction [Y/N] had been the only person refusing to abandon him. She’d spent hours keeping him company, sitting on his bedroom floor, his pills scattered across the floor between them. And no matter what bullshit he had managed to come up with, she had always been right by his side, smiling in that soft, teasing way that made him want to say something—anything—just to hear her laugh. Back then, there had been no fear, no weight of the world. Just the simplicity of two weirdos being together.

However, now, it felt like he had never known that version of himself. Su-Bong, the boy who didn’t have to push her away, the boy who never stopped smiling because of her. It had always been him and her against the world.

But if you've been fighting against the world for years, how do you react when you suddenly realize that your best friend has become your world? Unwilling to confront this question and the weight it carried, Su-Bong had ran from her, terrified of what he was feeling.

[Y/N] hadn’t known the truth. She still didn’t.

—-

The rest of the day went by in a blur and sooner than later the second game arrived. As [Y/N] and her team were making their way from mini game to mini game, Thanos observed her closely, pushing other players out of the way to crouch down at the very edge of the circular track. It was time for [Y/N] to succeed in her designated game, Gonggi. As she crouched down in front of the little table with the pebbles, her eyes quickly wandered to scan her opponents, but never once did they land on him. Thanos could see the determination in her face, the sharpness in her eyes, but there was something else. It wasn’t just the game she was playing—it was him. She was avoiding him. And he hated it.

As Thanos took his place at the inner edge of the circle, [Y/N] could feel the pressure of the game weighing on her heart. The memory of that game, their shared past, gnawed at her. She didn’t understand why but all of sudden it felt just like yesterday that she had been sitting across from Su-Bong on the wooden floor of his childhood room. Even though [Y/N] had never directly stopped him from using drugs, she had always worried about the -now purple haired- boy.

Back then he had the careless habit of messily scattering his pills on the floorboards between them, claiming it to be “for the sake of transparency”. And so, in her own twisted way of taking care of him and keeping him away from over-consumption , [Y/N] eventually started playing Gonggi with the pills, establishing the rule that Su-Bong could only continue his consume if she lost. She never lost once.

Shaking her head to get rid of the memory, [Y/N] prepared her pebbles, her fingers swift and precise. Thanos , who had been reaching for his cross necklace, slowly tucked it back under his shirt as watched her carefully from his spot. "You’re still as good as you were," he shouted, his voice booming. However, [Y/N] didn’t look up. Her focus never wavering.

"Don’t talk to me, Su-Bong," she replied flatly, her voice colder than it had ever been.

That hurt.

It shouldn’t have or at the very least he should have expected it. He wasn’t someone who allowed emotions to control him, but there was something about her rejecting him—like a door slamming shut , shutting him out from everything they had been—that made him freeze. For the briefest moment, he wanted to reach out. To break that wall she had so meticulously built. But he didn’t.

Instead, he gave a half-hearted chuckle, leaning back with his usual arrogance. "Fine. I’ll just watch then. It’s not like I need to be nice to you to survive this."

As her hand caught the pebbles in the final move, [Y/N]’s eyes shot up at him, sharp as ever. "Keep thinking that, Su-Bong," she snapped, her voice cutting through the air. "Because this isn’t about who can survive. It’s about who’s willing to lose everything for a game. And I’m not sure you're ready for that."

#squid game #squid game x reader #player 230 #player 230 x reader #squid game thanos #squid game thanos x reader #su bong x reader #choi su bong #choi su bong x reader #thanos x reader #squid game fic #squid game imagine #squid game reader insert #squid game x you

389 notes · View notes

httpknjoon · 4 months ago

Text

what do the lonely do at christmas | myg

plot | that time when popstar!yn found herself on bassist!yoongi's bed on a cold December morning.

w.c | 2.8K

pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader

genre | fluff, slight angst, enemies to lovers

note | one out of two/three holiday-themed drabble for this series! it's late, I know. but I can't let them sit in my drafts again haha so here it is. enjoy!

main masterlist | series masterlist | want to request?

DAY 66 of Love Is... On Tour

They make songs. Together.

After a show at Wells Fargo Center, Yoongi stayed locked in his hotel room to work on the music for your EP. He has read the lyrics you sent to him and listened to some melody ideas you recorded in your voice notes. In the last two days you two have been collaborating, you are full of visions and excited to tell him all of them. He finds it more surprising that you two haven't had any fights since then.

Is it New Years yet? I'm getting bored, so can we skip ahead? I just wanna forget That I'm at home with nobody to hold

So far, you already recorded two out of the six songs you planned to release in the EP. Usually, Yoongi takes his time in making and editing songs. But considering that this is a holiday EP and you have less than a week before the management's deadline, he works on it at every chance he gets. It's not that hard when you already have a clear vision of what and how you want the extended play to be.

Working is a great distraction compared to scrolling on his phone, which did no good for him. Mainly because he recently saw a post from a mutual friend of his and his ex. That's when he learned that Sara threw a baby shower in what was supposedly their house. He felt something cracked in him when he saw how far along her pregnancy was.

Tempted, Yoongi scrolled through the carousel of photos, admiring the decorations and colors of the house Sara probably picked herself, things that Yoongi had never seen personally. A single photo made Yoongi pause.

It shows Sara and her then-ex-boyfriend holding her growing bump, also showcasing a ring on her finger— not the emerald-cut diamond one he proposed to her. A new one, signaling that she is engaged for a second time this year. That photo was enough for Yoongi to turn it off and focus on his music.

Ding-dong.

Yoongi's head snapped, irritated when the unexpected doorbell noise filled his room. Frowning, he gets up from his chair to check who the person might be.

It's you.

Looking like a curious puppy, you stood before Yoongi's door with two cups of warm drinks you asked Cal to buy on the way back to the hotel. Yoongi looked at you through the small peephole, taking notice of your large, thick white cable knit sweater that falls just a few inches above your knees and the mystery cups you're holding. He opened the door when you began rolling your eyes and tapping your foot.

"What took you so long?!" you instantly asked the moment you saw him, handing him the other cup.

He snickered, ignoring your attitude. He takes the cup before pushing the door wider to let you in. Yoongi followed behind you when you walked inside. He sits back on his chair, in front of his small set-up, while you sit at the edge of his bed. Usually, you will take the couch. But the bed is nearer his working setup.

This is how you two have worked since you started. You only get up when you want to see his screen or when recording something.

"What are you doing here?" he asked since you just finished your show earlier. He figured you might prefer to rest and just work early tomorrow.

"I have an EP to work on, duh!" you replied, taking a sip from your hot chocolate as you tapped on your phone. "Anyway, lemme show you something..."

Probably a new idea. Yoongi thought. He knew it from the moment he saw you opened your phone's notes app.

"Here." You handed him your phone, letting him read something you wrote earlier today.

Maybe he met you somewhere in the desert While he was soul searching, he found someone better Guess you make him happy like I couldn't do Cindy Lou Who

Yoongi reads down the words, "It's a sad song?"

"Yep," you nodded. "Have you heard the song, What Do The Lonely Do At Christmas?"

Yoongi was quick to shake his head. He is not really fond of Christmas songs and doesn't listen to them if not needed. But he could tell by the title that it's probably a sad song too.

You pulled up your legs on his bed, making yourself comfortable, "It's a great song from the 70s. It has a lot of covers too. It's a sad Christmas song and I am so into it that I thought of writing one too."

Yoongi nods, listening, as he scans the rest of your lyrics, "Hmm..."

"What?" you quickly responded to his humming.

With how his eyes squint and his lips form a thin line, you know that he has something to say about your work. You learned after your first night of working together, making you realize that he has the same habit when you rehearse for a show.

"It's great, but I feel like we should just change some irrelevant lines? Like, maybe he met you somewhere in the desert." he read one of the lines. "What does desert get to do with Christmas?"

When he was met with a long silence, Yoongi looked up to you. But he find you just looking at him, chewing on your bottom lip. You looked away before letting out a heavy sigh.

"I found out my ex was cheating on me when paparazzi caught pictures of him and that actress kissing in Coachella." you explained.

"Oh..."

An apologetic look was instantly written all over his face, which is something you haven't expected. You thought he would keep the blank expression he always has. But his eyes and slightly gaped mouth said otherwise. You hate pity or anything like that, especially when it comes from someone who once read you too well. So, you grinned, even though it was forced so much that it almost made your cheeks hurt.

"Want to see the pictures? It's literally everywhere." you joked to change the mood. His eyes widened like he thought you were serious. So you chuckled, "I'm kidding! I won't show you that myself. You can just search it up if you want to."

"I'm not interested. No one really enjoys seeing a picture of their ex," he mumbled, returning your phone to you.

Your eyebrows crooked together when you heard that. He sounded too serious like he was the one in your shoes. You watch him sulk back to his seat, turning his back to work on one of your songs.

"You're acting like you were the one who got cheated on here. You're literally engaged to someone." you quipped.

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not."

He whispered mindlessly. Yoongi didn't really think about it and let it slip out of his tongue. He doesn't really like bringing up his personal dramas in his workplace. He never would have realized what he said if you didn't ask him,

"What do you mean by that?"

Yoongi turned around, meeting your eyes, "So, how do you like that song to turn out?"

You're not dumb. Of course, you noticed him dodging your curiosities. He has never shared anything about himself since you two worked together. It's not like I care, you thought. But you know that there is a small itch at the back of your head, trying to get him to talk more. And maybe you know a trick to satisfy that itch.

"Let's order some wine first."

"With your hair so long, lips so bed— wait, that's wrong!"

A bottle of red wine is carelessly placed on the perfectly white duvet of Yoongi's bed. Surprisingly, it is still safe from any stain. The nearly finished cup of now-cold chocolate drink you brought is on the nightstand. You were giggling in front of the microphone and pop filter after making another mistake.

"The words are scrambled." you continued giggling before drinking from the glass of wine you were holding.

It has been almost two hours since you got in his room and Yoongi knows that the effect of your wine is getting into you. Earlier, before you could finish your first glass, you two already agreed on the instrumentals of the song you called cindy lou who. You let Yoongi make some changes in your lyrics, but it's nothing major.

"Something that feels delicate and maybe some piano." You described your idea before humming the tune you were thinking of.

By the second glass of wine, you are recording a rough draft of the song. So that you know if your ideas work well. Yoongi suggested to layer your vocals in some parts while you thought of adding a subtle harmony. Surprisingly, you two worked smoothly.

"Should we add some harp? Theo would have liked that."

You were almost done with your third glass of wine when Yoongi heard you mention your ex's name for the first time.

"Maybe we should stop drinking..." he said.

Even though he's in his fourth glass as well, Yoongi is doing better than you. You looked at him while he clicked something on his setup. You wondered if he could feel the cozy, warm feeling you've been feeling from the wine. Because that plain expression cannot really tell you anything, which makes you feel a little frustrated with how you're the only one who seemed to be a little giggly.

"Fine." you rolled your eyes, letting him take your glass from you.

He got up to get something in his room's mini fridge before going back to you, "Water?"

"It's cold," you replied before you could even touch the bottle.

"Okay, diva."

Your eyebrows raised with that, "No! I mean I cannot drink cold water when I'm singing or recording. It's not good for my throat... I'm fine, anyway. Thanks."

"I thought it would help you sober up," he explained, leaning to his chair.

"I'm sober!" you exclaimed defensively. Just a little fuzzy. But you won't admit that to him.

His lips formed into a smug smile, like he was saying, yeah sure. You puffed before fixing your headphones and crossing your arms over your chest. You looked annoyed. Yoongi knows because your nostrils are flared while there's a small pout on your lips. He bites off his inner cheek to stop himself from smiling.

"Should we record again?" he asked.

Still a little annoyed, you didn't say anything and just nodded your head. The instrumental began playing in your headphones seconds later.

‘Tis the season to be jolly But how can I be when I have nobody

The same song plays on your phone while you tap your fingertips in tune with the sleighbells playing in its instrumental. After finishing recording the song, you stay to see how it will turn out. Yoongi didn't seem to mind even though it was already past midnight.

"Do you want to hear the song I mentioned?" you asked him while he worked on the song.

Busy, he answered with a short sure. So, you played the song in a non-distracting volume, reached for the glass of wine you abandoned, and sat on his bed. You were quiet, sometimes humming to the song, but mostly staring at the view outside.

A silent night I know it's gonna be Joy to the world But it's gonna be sad for me

As the snow falls outside, you think of how this is so not how you expected your December is gonna be this year. With Noah being your original bassist, you thought you two would get to enjoy the snow in various cities you're touring in. And maybe even spend Christmas together during your break. But instead, you are now in your new bassist's, with whom you have dumb fights most of the time, hotel room, making holiday songs.

How surprising is that? You thought to yourself before taking one gulf of your wine.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Yoongi slightly groaned as he stretched his limbs from his chair. You paused the song and collected the wine bottle and your glass like you were ready to go.

"Are you kicking me out yet?" you asked.

He turned around, just to you about to get up from the bed, "What?"

"Maybe my presence distracts you." you joked, which sounds nicer than maybe you don't want me here in your room anymore because you don't like having me here.

He chuckled, a little tired, "No, it's okay. I know you're waiting for the finished version."

"Good. Because I really like your room. You have a great view of the city. The snow looks perfect here." you rambled.

Yoongi looked outside, seeing the wonderful view you were talking about. He wordlessly agrees before getting back to his screen. Watching him, you mumbled.

"If you're tired, we can just finish that tomorrow."

Just like you, the guy also performed hours ago. You two don't along at most times, but you are not that petty to make him overwork.

"No, I'm fine," he shakes his head. "I'll finish this in an hour, just wait there."

"Okay," you put down the bottle on the nightstand.

Yoongi heard the music play again while he edited the song. Eager to finish it tonight, he continued working for what seemed like a few minutes for him. He made sure to add your suggestions and put some elements he thinks would be perfect. After listening to his finished product through his headphones one more time, Yoongi put on a satisfied smile.

"And it's do—"

Yoongi's smile fell when he found you asleep on his bed with the empty wine glass in your hand. It was already 1:24 AM, and he looked at the time. Seeing how peaceful you are in your sleep, he would hate waking you up. Instead, Yoongi got up cleaned up his nightstand, and carefully took your glass. He tried not to chuckle loudly when he heard your small snores. After gently putting the duvet on you, Yoongi took one of the pillows and threw it on the couch that he would take over tonight. He knows it would be awkward to take up the big, empty space next to you.

Dimming down the lights, Yoongi tried to find a comfortable position on the couch. And when he did, he finally closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep.

If it weren't for the buzzing noise next to you, you would have seen where your celebrity crush ended up taking you for a date in your dreams. Groaning, you reached for your phone beside you. Seeing Cal calling, you begrudgingly answered the call.

"Hey, Cal." your voice sounded weak as you just woke up.

"Where the hell are you, YN?! I've been ringing your room. You have a virtual interview at 9."

Your eyebrows furrowed while slowly sitting up, "What do you mean? I'm in my room— Oh, no. Fuck."

The first thing you see when you sit up is Yoongi's compact studio setup, which you don't remember being in your room. You looked around and it just confirmed that you are not in your hotel room. Yoongi is nowhere to be found, you don't hear any noise from the bathroom either.

"Y/N?" Cal spoke again, worried by your sudden pause.

"I-I'm in Yoongi's room." you stuttered, trying to remember your last memory. You were relieved to find yourself still in the same clothes you went with last night.

You heard a gasp from the other line, "Oh my god, YN! Did you hooked—"

"No, no, no! Still in my clothes. Just fell asleep making songs." you babbled, cutting her suspicions off. "Where the fuck is that sock?!"

Is it a talent to lose a fucking sock while asleep? Because if it is, you just added a new title under your name. You were in a hurry, shuffling the bed for that one sock with heart patterns. Cal can only imagine what you look like right now.

"Here!" you exclaimed, immediately putting it on. You rushed to the door after. "I'm going there right— Yoongi!"

Yoongi was right before you. He shared the same shock as you except he was calmer with his eyebrows raised and eyes widened.

"I have to go for an interview. Cal's gonna rip my head off. I'll check the song later. Thank you for letting me stay!"

You were so in a hurry that you were literally spewing words and didn't realize that you leaned to give a quick kiss on his cheek. It registered as you were moving back, making you two stop for a moment, looking at each other in surprise. He gulped, feeling his throat running dry. while you feel every blood run to your cheeks now, feeling warm.

You blinked, "I-I'm gonna go."

Yoongi watched you run to the elevator before looking at the two cups of coffee he was holding.

note | i still have a christmas drabble! haha! hope u liked this one though <33

taglist rules

SERIES TAGLIST (OPEN)

@busanbby-jjk @jimingirl95 @treacherqus @jajabro @marnz1990 @ktownshizzle @notarshia @m00njinnie @thelilbutifulthings @tarahardcore @livisdoingfine @jungshaking @eridanus-lynx @enthralled-bandit

PERMANENT TAGLIST (CLOSED)

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21 @marblemoonstones

#bass guitarist! yoongi #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi au #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #bts drabble #bts aus #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #yoongi fanfic #bts suga #httpknjoon #love is... on tour myg #Spotify

285 notes · View notes

akawifeyy · 3 months ago

Text

a date at seven, i dreamed of heaven | fic (LN4)

description: after dozens of failed attempts, you finally cave in to your best friend's pleads to let her set you up with somebody.

tropes: blind date, love at first sight, cousin's best friend!fem!reader

face claim: none

trigger warnings: suggestive content, swearing

| note: this is an au i've had in my mind for agessss omg

You were so fed up with the toxic culture of online dating apps that you finally gave in to your best friend Isolde's request, letting her set you up with someone. A blind date was not something you would normally do – it was out of your comfort zone and definitely risky. Perhaps it would be worth it, though. You trusted Isolde, that she wouldn't lead you astray. But even the people with the best intentions could be proven wrong.

According to her, he was cute and funny. A good conversationalist, loyal. "A lot to handle at once, but he's like a puppy. He'll grow on you." The words were somewhat comforting, yet the jury was still out on whether it was a good match. You had been thinking about it all week, staring into space and dreaming about meeting him, the perfect man.

Today was the day. For lack of better words, it was showtime. The hour was nigh, proving that your delusions would be upheld or shattered. You stood outside the cafe, tapping your foot impatiently as you scrolled through your Instagram feed. You had tried to find your blind date, but he wasn't following Isolde.

It could have been anyone. The guy in the beige trench coat walking his dog, or the man with dyed blue hair and two piercings standing at the crosswalk.

But no, it wasn't either of them.

A tanned, curly-headed man sauntered up to you, his hazel eyes scanning you like he was making sure you were the right person. "Hey, you're Y/N, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, are you my date?" You grinned, blushing as you took in his appearance. Damn, your friend had done a good job. He was exactly your type.

The man outstretched a hand. "I'm Lando. Nice to meet you."

You took the handshake, heat flooding you at the contact.

After pulling apart, Lando opened the door to the cafe, ushering you in first and trailing behind you.

The cafe itself was cozy, with warm lantern lights hanging from the ceiling, and various flora tangling itself throughout the stucco brick walls. The hostess brought you to a comfortable booth in a quiet part of the restaurant, and Lando let you sit down first before striking up a conversation.

"So..." he started, a smile growing on his lips. "You're friends with Isolde, hm?"

You nodded. "Yeah, we've been friends since year one of uni. How do you know her?"

"We're cousins," he confided. "Sadly."

You cocked your head to the side, trying to determine if he was joking or not. "Why is that a sad thing?"

"Everyone thinks we're siblings, and then when we tell them we're not, they assume our parents cheated." He hummed under his breath. Now that you were thinking about it, Isolde and Lando did look an awful lot like one another. They had the same unruly brown hair, tanned skin, hazel eyes. No wonder people were confused. "That's not really a conversation for the first date, is it, though? I'd like to know more about you."

You shrugged one shoulder. "Has Isolde not told you anything about me? I'm surprised."

Lando tapped his fingers against the table, thinking. "I mean, she told me that you went on dates with lots of guys that didn't work out. And not to fuck this up."

You laughed. "Sounds like Isolde."

"Well, want to enlighten me, Y/N?" Lando asked eagerly.

You looked down at your nails, which were painted a soft blue color. Isolde was training to be an esthetician, so she practiced on you frequently, something you weren't complaining about. "I mean, I love to read and write."

"What kind? Poetry? Epics?" he pushed, digging for more information. "I'm sure you're cool, now prove it to me."

You rolled your eyes jokingly. "I write poetry sometimes, but mostly just short stories. Nothing publishable, they're not that good." You ignored Lando's exasperated huff, and continued. "As for reading, I like romcoms and thrillers. I know, they're both opposites, but they're my favorites. Do you like to read?"

Lando shook his head. "Nope, I'm not a reader. But I don't mind you talking about the books that you're reading. Girls talking about their interests are single-handedly the most attractive thing I've ever witnessed."

"And how many girls do you usually have to talk to about such matters?" you inquired.

"I'm not a player, if that's what you're getting at," Lando said, his eyes wide. "I've had a few girlfriends, but none of them worked out. I'm not a cheater. If I'm talking to one girl, that's it. No one else matters."

You pursed your lips. "That's nice."

"It's basic decency," he corrected you sternly. "As for my hobbies, I like to game and drive cars."

"Like... sports cars?" you waited for clarification, confused.

Lando blinked, taken aback. "Y/N...Isolde didn't tell you?"

Panic flooded you, as you thought that you'd missed some important clue as to who he was. You were utterly oblivious. "No?"

"I'm a Formula One driver. For McLaren."

Oh. "Really?" you said quizzically. "She didn't tell me. She was probably respecting your privacy, and left that detail up to you."

Lando inclined his head. "That's nice of her, but I feel like a muppet. Do you watch F1?"

"Not really, I've watched a few Grand Prix, but I don't know much." You swallowed roughly. "Is that a dealbreaker?"

Lando frowned. "No. It's all the more reason to buy you paddock passes and show you what you're missing out on."

The waitress came by, and you ordered a few drinks and a small meal. You kept talking, slowly becoming more relaxed with one another. Lando informed you about his golf obsession, and you teased him, calling him an old man. In retaliation, he stole the cherry from your drink like a quick, cunning monkey, and you laughed so hard you couldn't breathe.

Isolde was right: Lando was amazing.

When you finished drinking and eating, Lando immediately offered to pay, but you pushed back, protesting loudly. "Let me split the bill, please."

"I have more than enough money for the both of us. It's the respectful thing to do," he reminded you.

You scowled at him, but gave up the fight you knew you were losing. "Fine."

You gathered your belongings, entering Lando's number into your phone, and bid him goodnight. Lando had given you a quick kiss on the cheek, thanking you for the date, and your body had bloomed with warmth at the sensation. "See you soon?"

"Yep," you beamed.

You knew this was just the first of many dates, and the start of a romance for the ages.

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #ln4 #ln4 x reader #lando norris #formula one #f1 fic #f1 writer #f1 fanfic

137 notes · View notes

selfishdoll · 2 years ago

Text

❛ I WANNA SEE...❜

Quit talkin' 'bout it, be about it | Lemme see, lemme see, lemme see. ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ♡ LEMME SEE

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 SUMMARY.

butt-dialing your roommate while pleasing yourself (and moaning his name) went in a completely different direction than you thought it would.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 CONTENT WARNING.

accidental voyuerism, reader is a little dumb (love her though) black reader, they are both 20-22, roommates to lovers, mutual masturbation, praise & teasing, pet names (baby, princess, pretty girl, etc.), oral sex(fem receiving), manhandling, dumbification, choso has been pining for a while he was just waiting on you, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampies, hand on throat (not choking it’s just there), porn mention, etc. if i left something out please let me know.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 NOTE.

choso has been plaguing my brain just like bi-han is. also this idea came up randomly. lowkey rushed at the end. i hope you enjoy and as always; this fic is unedited, please excuse typos & grammar mistakes.

You couldn’t deny the attraction you felt to Kamo Choso. It was all physical, at first; eyes trailing down his body the day you met him— enjoying just about everything your gaze set on. He was handsome, in a rugged kind of way, eyes lined with bags as if he hadn’t slept in years; however built as if he never left the gym. How he handled both was beyond you.

But of course, the attraction didn’t end there, it grew when you got to know him— and when you moved in with him. After being rushed out of your previous apartment by your shitty landlord, Choso was more than happy to give you the extra bedroom in his home; declaring you didn’t need to pay rent for about two months just to get your bearings. From then on, anytime you saw Choso, or if anyone mentioned him; you were flushed with heat, a disgusting amount of butterflies settling in your stomach.

You were whipped and there was nothing you could do. Given you refused to jeopardize the friendship you two had.

Today was your off day after a hellish week. You planned to spend it in bed, cuddled under Halloween themed blankets. Your eyes peered up at the television hanging aganist your wall, enjoying some random video of your favorite youtuber. You blinked as a gentle knock came on your door, slowly sitting up as an enter escaped you shortly after. The door opened, revealing Choso dressed in a baggy black tshirt and some sweats. His keys were in his hands, leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m going out for a bit, do you need anything?”

You smiled, tilting your head in thought. “Mm.. no.” You spoke, watching him raise his eyebrows for a moment, giving an are you sure look. You chuckled, nodding once more to which he hummed a bit.

“Don’t call me later because you forgot somethin’.”

“That’s only happened once, Choso!” You huffed, watching as he turned, exiting your bedroom. And soon the house. You sighed a bit, sliding down your headboard to rest on your back, glancing up at the ceiling. Despite him not being in the room your still felt insanely warm, hands rising to your cheeks to groan into them. Why was he so fine and so sweet all at the same time? It frustrated you to no end.

You rolled onto your side, legs crossing as you pushed your face into your pillows. Hands gliding down from your face, you felt the warmth grow; trickling down between your thighs. Sighing softly to yourself, you switched to lay on your back again, blindly reaching for your phone. Like clockwork you clicked onto the dreaded X app, using two hands to type in a genre before one slinked back under your blankets.

You scrolled for a moment, fingers breaching your panties and simply rolling lazy circles onto your clit. The tiny sparks of pleasure slowly relied you up, searching endlessly for a video, getting more annoyed by the second. Moments passed before you sighed heavily, dropping your phone onto the bed whilst kicking off your blankets.

Your imagination would have to do. And what did it always drift off too? Kamo Choso.

Panties now bunched to your ankles, two fingers glided across your slick slit, collecting your essence until you were nice and moist; all while your other hand continued to roll circles onto your hardened buds. Dipping your fingers down, a soft sigh escaped you as you pushed them in, not reaching as deep as you liked but close enough. Once comfortable you began to thrust them in and out of you, curling them every so often— causing sweet moans to escape you.

You thought of him. Thought of yourself under him, using his fingers that were surely much bigger then your own. Stretching you out in preparation, all while he whispered words into your ear. You bit the inside of your cheek, the intensity of your fingers quickening, hips rising up off the bed as vocal noises escaped you. You moved on the bed, rolling a bit before situating yourself onto your back again. Gasps escaped you, desperate moans as you chased after your release. Choso consumed your mind, fantasies pushed forth as if seeing them right before you. His body, his voice, his hair tickling your heated skin— it was all too much. You needed him so much.

“Fuck, Choso..” Was the high-pitched whimper that escaped you, hand tiring yet refusing to stop, you were so close. You rubbed your clit raw, fingers pushing against your gummy walls before you finally came, a final moan escaping you. You breathed heavily, falling back against the bed as you slowly withdrew your fingers, groaning a bit. It took a moment to calm yourself down, rolling onto your side and attempting to ignore your mess for now. Just a moment, you would clean yourself up.

That was until your eyes zoned in on your phone, realizing it was on. With a blink you sat up, feeling your heart fall straight to your ass. There, clear as day, was Choso’s contact name. You were currently on a call with him. One you hadn’t nor realized you accepted.

The silence was eerie, a shaky hand rising to hover above the screen. Like an idiot you spoke, “Choso?..”

And much to your horror you got a breathy, “Yeah?” back. You screamed internally, hurriedly cutting the call and falling into your bed. Obscenities escaped you into your pillow, eyes pinched close as embarrassment ran through your body. Of course you would butt-dial him, of course you would moan his name, and of course you would say his name again instead of simply ending the call! So stupid, so stupid! You could die right then and there.

There was only one solution to this problem; avoid him for a month until he pushes it to the back of his mind. It sounded ridiculous, but that was the only way. So, you stood, grabbing your towel from its hanging place and paddling over to the bathroom. You would shower, grab some water and snacks — so you wouldn’t have to leave you room —, and lock your door. Choso isn’t the type to barge in, but you couldn’t chance it.

You made quick work of bathing yourself, hissing at the burning sensitivity between your legs. Once finished you pat yourself dry, sliding some lotion on yourself soon after and pulling on some shorts and a shirt after your panties. Opening your bedroom door you glanced around suspiciously, waltzing over to the kitchen and snatching up two water bottles and a couple of your snacks. Holding them between your arms while walking back to your bedroom, you felt your stomach drop the moment the front door opened. You rushed the final steps to your room, slamming the door shut and locking it behind you. You breathed as you heard heavy footsteps around the house, stepping over to your bed and placing your snacks and drinks on the nightstand. You jumped as a knock came on your door, quickly going quiet.

All was still until he spoke, “Got you some food. It’ll be behind the door.”

You nearly felt bad for ignoring him, wondering if he bought it before or after you completely defiled his ears. Biting your lip, you waited until you heard his bedroom door close, waltzing over and carefully unlocking your own. Pulling it open, you glanced down at the styrofoam container, smiling a little to yourself. Leaning to pick it up, you released a small thank you, before quickly shutting and locking the door.

A heavy sigh escaped you as you walked over to your bed, sitting down and placing the food down. Dwelling over your mistake would only ruin your appetite, you decided to distract yourself with horror movies.

After eating the food and enjoying the third scream movie, you took a nap, curled up under your blankets comfortably. An hour or so passed before you woke up, blinking slowly and glancing around the room; the only light being the television. A soft yawn escaped you, slowly sitting up and glancing at your mess. You grimaced, picking up your empty water bottle, wrapper, and food container— switching around to stand and walk over to your door. Unlocking it, you opened and exited your bedroom, sliding over to the kitchen.

You hummed softly to yourself, approaching the trash can and placing your trash inside. Walking over to the sink, you squirted a little soap in your hands, washing them for a good few minutes before cutting the water off, shaking your hands to dry. Turning to head back to your bedroom, a yell escaped you when you noticed the man standing in the doorway.

Choso smiled a little, “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He crossed his arms, your eyes instinctively falling to them before rising back to his face. You shook your head quickly, nervously adjusting your shirt onto your body. “It’s okay.. No problem.” You cringed internally at your own voice, eyes closed and suppressing a groan.

An awkward silence carried in the room for a moment before you finally decided to rip the bandaid. You glanced up, meeting his gaze that was already fixated onto you. “Choso, I’m.. really sorry I called you and you.. heard me.” You murmured, fingers continuing to fiddle with themselves.

“I called you.” He corrected, you giving a nervous smile and a nod.

“Right, but still. I understand if you’re uncomfortable and our dynamic changes for a little bit. I.. hope you can forgive me.”

Choso tilted his head for a moment, finger tapping against his arm as a small smile painted his features. He entered the kitchen fully, coming to stand before you. “It’s okay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He hummed softly, eyes tracing your face for a moment before his smile deepened. “I’ll forgive you.. if you show me what you were doing to yourself.”

You blinked as his words settled into your mind, eyes slowly going wide. He had to be joking, right? Gaze boring into his own and looking for any hint of amusement or mischief. Unfortunately, you could tell that Kamo Choso was dead serious. Waiting ever so patiently for your reply. Yet, you still asked.

“You’re being.. serious?” You licked your suddenly dry lips, a cold feeling running down your body the moment he nodded. Eyes never moving away from you. Heart thrumming against your chest, a soft okay escaping you after a moment. Gripping your shirt you watched as Choso stepped to the side to allow you to leave, following close behind as the two of you exited the kitchen.

You tried to ignore the heat rising, ears burning as you felt his heavy gaze upon your form. Entering your bedroom, you flipped the light on, approaching your bed. You hesitated, giving the man enough time to approach you, gently cradling your back. “You can back out, (Y/N). I refuse to push you into something you don’t want to do.” Was what Choso whispered against your ear, pulling back to glance down at you. Searching for anymore restraint.

You thought it over, biting the inside of your cheek for a moment before you stepped away from him. The man watched as your fingers curled under the waistband of your shorts and panties, slowly pulling them down your body. You came to lay on your bed, watching as he followed to sit at the edge of it.

“Watch carefully, Choso.” A sudden burst of confidence entered you, legs sliding open to reveal yourself to him. Your hand glided down your form, using two fingers to slowly spread yourself, middle finger coming to roll slow circles onto your clit. As the pleasure grew your legs opened more, head leaning back as a soft sigh escaped you. Your hand rose, pushing two fingers into your mouth and coating them in your saliva, purposely moaning around them just to watch him twitch.

Choso’s gaze was intense, leaving nothing untouched by his eyes. He hissed softly as he watched you push your saliva covered fingers inside, your walls clenching around the digits eagerly. You moaned softly, beginning to thrust them as two fingers rolled upon your clit. A soft swear escaped Choso, leaning to rest on his elbow while his free hand pushed his sweats and boxers to rest on his thighs, revealing his half hard length. Slowly he stroked himself, watching your fingers falter when you noticed him. Choso shook his head, reaching over and gently knocking his knuckles against your ankle.

“Don’t stop, sweetheart. Keep going..” He breathed, thumb collecting precum from his slit and gliding it down his cock. He groaned the moment your fingers moved again, watching the way you fucked yourself, your sweet moans bouncing off the walls. Choso couldn’t believe it when you picked up the call and he heard you, and he definitely couldn’t believe his ears when you moaned his name. He felt so perverted, loving every second of that call.

You hips rolled, legs shaking as your fingers curled and scissored inside you. Breathing heavily, his name escaped your mouth legs threatening to close from the pleasure. To which he refused, reaching over and locking his fingers around your ankle, pulling your legs open.

“Choso..”

“Wanna see.. that’s it, you’re so close princess.” Choso huffed, pace quickening— grinning at the way you clenched from his words. Your peaks were approaching, combined sounds of pleasure covering the room. Your eyes were pinched closed, whimpers escaping your throat before you came, coating your fingers in your release. Blurry eyes opened in time to see Choso tense, making a mess on his pants, hand, and bottom of his shirt.

The two of you panted, your legs relaxing, head resting against your pillow as you allowed yourself to breathe. That was until, you were dragged farther down the bed, feeling his strong hands grasp your thighs, parting them. You glanced down in time to spot him plant a kiss against your slit, gasping from the sensitivity. “Choso—!” You cried out, his thick tongue parting your folds, gliding across your sensitive bud.

The man wasted no time on feasting away on you, collecting your mess as if it was the finest wine; moaning at your taste. His grip tightened when you attempted to run from the pleasure, driving his tongue into you and curling. It was too much, too soon; your back arching as your hands found his hair, gripping and ruining the messy buns. Cries escaped you, thighs wrapping around his head so tightly, surely cutting off his air supply. But the man didn’t care at all, continuing to thrust his tongue in and out of you, dragging it out every once in a while to glide across your clit before diving back in.

Knuckles balled, you shook as you came all over his face, pushing your pussy right into him which he welcomed happily. He wasn’t any more gentle cleaning you up, lapping your juices with a soft hum. You pushed at him, Choso finally releasing you from the torture and sitting up. Choso rose, lifting his shirt to wipe his face clean of your mess before pulling it off fully and tossing it to the side.

You panted as he crawled over you, leaning on a forearm as his free hand gently grabbed your chin. “Focus here, princess..” He murmured softly, grinning at the way your heavy lidded eyes landed on his face. Choso leaned, stealing your breath in a heated kiss, wasting no time in driving his tongue into your mouth. Your taste burned your tongue, hands grabbing his strong arms for stability. Soft smacks entered the room, the kiss deepening; a softer whine escaping you the moment his hand traveled to your throat, simply holding it. The man rose away for a moment, a swear escaping him as he took in your disheveled form.

“How long have you wanted this, (Y/N)? Weeks? Months?” Choso questioned, tutting the moment you attempted to turn away. His hand traveled, squishing your cheeks between his fingers as he leaned down. “You’ve gone mute, sweet girl?”

You murmured softly, fingers trailing to his wrist, warming at the way his thumb pressed against your slick lips. “Months.. since I’ve met you.”

“Oh..” Choso could nearly come on the spot from that, listening to your sweet, shaky voice admit something so dirty. Watching your pretty eyes refuse to meet his gaze. You were so embarrassed.. as if you hadn’t just played with yourself infront of him. He would chuckle if he wasn’t scared of offending you. Instead, he leaned even closer, lips hovering above your own as your noses brushed against each other. “Yeah? Bet this isn’t the first time you’ve touched yourself to the thought of me..“ He spoke, lips quirking as a soft chuckle escaped him. “You wanted me to catch you one day, didn’t you pretty girl?”

You quickly shook your head, watching as the man sat up, hands falling to your thighs. You breathed as he rose them, resting the back of your knees onto his shoulders while his cock brushed across your entrance. Choso tilted his head at you, thumbs tracing your skin. “I didn’t take you for a liar, (Y/N).”

Before you could defend yourself he was pushing inside, a sharp moan escaping you as he began to stretch you. His hands were firm on you, keeping you grounded and steady. His eyes darted between the two of you, watching the way you spread around his length so nicely; walls clenching with each push inside. Choso felt the way your legs shook, a soft whine escaping you before he reached between your legs, slowly rolling circles on your hardened bud. “Relax for me, pretty girl.. That’s it— I’m almost there.” He nearly groaned at the way you clenched from his words, pushing his hips and becoming fully seated inside you.

Choso allowed you a moment to breathe, watching for any discontent while his finger continued to gingerly rub your clit. When he noticed the pained expression melt away, he was pulling his hips back, driving them forward quickly. The moment you moaned, was when he lost restraint; thrusts increasing and soon fucking you into the mattress.

Your legs shook with each rock into your body, his cock bullying your insides, reaching far deeper then your fingers or any toy you owned. Your fingers balled up the blankets underneath you, back arched as cries escaped your throat. It was becoming too much, tears ready to spill as you twisted and turned from the immense pleasure. You whined as he suddenly leaned down, pressing your legs up against your chest while his hand gently grabbed your throat once more.

“Don’t run (Y/N).. Stay right here, take it.” Choso spoke, breath heavy as his weight was placed behind each thrust. He watched the way your eyes rolled to the back of your bed, grinning to himself in enjoyment and pure pride. You were clenching him so harshly, refusing to let him go, sucking him back in greedily. He was in a daze, completely focused on nothing more than your reactions; your beautiful sounds, your twitches, how your hands rose to clench at his arms— hanging on by a thread, using him for stability.

“Choso, Choso, Choso!” His name fell from your lips in a desperate mantra, eyebrows pinched closed as you felt yourself getting closer and close. The band was tight, ready to burst as his cock rammed into you— slamming against your g-spot with no mercy. You finally broke, soaking the sheets under you, ruining them completely.

Choso released a groan at the sight and feeling leaning to plant a heavy kiss onto your lips, all while fucking you through your orgasm. You whined at the sensitivity, hand falling to his waist to which he easily caught, intertwining your fingers and pushing into the mattress. “One more, baby. Just one more.”

“Mm.. I—I can’t—!” You cried out, the man pulling back to glance down at you. You were truly a sight, bohemian braids spread out around your hair, edges messy while your lips were bruised and coated in your shared saliva. Eyes lidded, shirt damp with your sweat with your breasts pushing against the thin fabric. The man sucked in a breath, hand falling to your waist and lifting, fucking you at different angle just to hear you scream.

“You can.. been takin’ me so well princess, making me a mess.” Choso breathed, eyelids heavy as he felt his end growing closer and closer. Lip caught between his teeth his thrusts became hurried, ramming you into the mattress all while continuing to hold your hand.

Incoherent babbles escaped you, knees brushing your chest, stuck under his weight. The moment he reached between you two to rub tight circles onto your clit you were done, lifting up off the bed and creaming all over him; throat raw, voice abused.

Choso’s eyes rolled back to his skull, rising as his thrusts turned sloppy, vocal moans and praises escaping him. Soon enough he was painting your walls white, stuffing you full as the warmth caused you to whine. The smell of sex rested in the air, followed by your commingled breaths.

The man moved your legs off his shoulders, allowing them to rest at his sides before coming to lay on you. You groaned softly, hands traveling to his back. He wasn’t a light man at all, nearly placing all his weight on you. “Choso.. you’re heavy.” You whined softly, still trying to regain your breath. He simply breathed you in, free hand moving to travel up the back of your skull, fingers gliding across the parts of your braids.

“Choso!”

“One more minute. Then we can shower.”

You shook your head with a simple sigh, smiling to yourself as your fingers trailed his back. However, the man rose from his previous position, releasing your hand to place them on your waist. “On second thought.. one more round.”

Your eyes widened in horror, yet excitement brewed in your stomach. It seemed you wouldn’t be leaving your bed anytime soon.

#mani writes ━━ ★#black!reader #jjk x black reader #jjk smut #jjk x fem!reader #choso kamo x female reader #choso kamo x black reader #choso kamo x y/n #choso x female reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x reader #choso x you #kamo choso #choso kamo

1K notes · View notes

targaryenluvs · 1 year ago

Text

VICTORS SPOILS

pairings: dark!finnick odair x fem!capitol!reader

warnings: obsession, following/stalking, creepy behaviour, naive/younger reader, age gap, (reader is 19 and finnick's around 25), non-con touching and kissing, manipulation, bj mentions/insinuations, sex mentions, prostitution mentions, finnick lowkey preying on you - descriptions of brown reader (i was self indulgent since i’m indian 😁) condescending/nit picking mother and pushy parents!

summary: a victor should be celebrated! a victor should get what ever they wish, even if it’s a sweet capitol girl who misplaced her kindness in someone who was in desperate need of reprieve and distraction.

a/n: ITS MY BIRTHDAY!!! HERES A GIFT FROM ME TO YOU ❤️GUESS WHO MADE HER OWN LITTLE HEADER GAHH!! i tried my bestttt - ive been away for a littleeee!! sorry babes <33 it was like 3am and i cooked this up in my head before opening my brewing pot (notes app) and jotting it down - NOT PROOFREAD

the hall was so loud.

they always were at capitol parties. your mother and father always dragged you along, stating that a young lady should be getting out, meeting people, friends, becoming well versed and established in the capitol. and that they wouldn’t always be here. “you need to learn to be alone, fend for yourself and stand your ground. how are you gonna do that if you’re always trying to keep to yourself dear?” your mother sweetly smiled as she looked over you, “i think you still have time to change that dress, not the most flattering sweetie.”

you scoffed as she walked away ever so elegantly. you looked over yourself in the mirror, the green dress was gorgeous, to you at least. but the blue dress your mother had chosen was breath-taking, as much as you hated to agree with her opinion. so you bit your tongue and put the chosen dress on.

mother knows best right?

the sun was setting with an especially beautiful array of colours to which you figured no one would really notice you were gone if they were all focused on something else. there was probably a screen upstairs which you could watch something on. a few things to eat and drink then you’d head up there.

finnick was glancing over to you the whole night. you’d worn blue, and he’d taken it as an ode to him. you hadn’t looked over at him yet but your leaving of the party seemed like an invitation to him to finally introduce himself.

as you settled down on the plush couch you felt all your tensions melt away. but finnick wouldn’t leave you alone for long. “i’m sorry i didn’t know this was occupied.” finnick looked sad and you had no clue why, so being as nice as you are had you opening the room in invitation to him. “no, no! i just wanted to get away from the party. you’re welcome to sit with me finnick.” it felt odd to you for some reason, calling him by his name as if he was a friend. you’d only ever seen him through screens and from afar yet he looked as amazing as always.

“are you sure?” you nodded and smiled, moving down the couch to make room for him. he sat down, respectful of your space. he looked drained and you felt the same way. “tired of the party?” you asked as he smiled and nodded, “a lot of people asking a lot of questions.” you spoke, “everyone has something to say or ask. my dad told me he got three men asking for my hand. we haven’t even been here for two hours. it’s like being in a room with vultures. and if i do accept i’ll just be, nothing. someone stuck to the side of some ugly guy who just wants a pretty face.” you didn’t know what it was about him but you felt as if you could tell him anything.

and he sat, and listened. nodding his head and adding it where appropriate. it felt, nice. having someone actually listen to what you said rather than just asking what you were wearing. he was nothing like what you expected. you’d heard the whispers. that he was a playboy, he was with and had been with multiple women and men over the years. and that he liked it, the gifts, the people, the uhm, other aspects.

“but you, i’m sure you have people to meet, scope out.” you wanted to curl up and die as soon as the words left your mouth. “no! oh my god, i do not mean it like that. you- i- you should not feel ashamed of what you like. i am so sorry- i didn’t mean to imply-” god would you stop droning on? finnick pressed his lips into a thin line, “hey it’s okay. you’re fine. in all honestly, i know everyone has mis-conceptions of me.” you took his place in attentive listening as he explained the truth.

the threats, the people pawing at him, him being sold from fourteen.

you were crying. it all sounded unbelievable and unbearable for someone to go through at such a young age, his life was ruined all because he was pretty, desirable. no child should even have to think of such things let alone experience them. and rather than you comforting him, he was sitting with his arms around you. he was too good to be true.

“i- no i’m so sorry that happened to you finnick. i had no clue, no one does. you are such an amazing person, from the little time i’ve known you. you don’t deserve any of this. how could you get away from this? we could- we could expose snow we could-” finnick cut you off with teary eyes, “there’s nothing we can do. trust me, if there was i would have tried. but i think, if i got married perhaps. i’d have a reason to stay away from the captiol. we’d live in district four, in peace.”

the idea was pretty decent, you’d give him that. and you couldn’t help your heart running a little faster at the prospect of potentially marrying him. you were already fast friends, at least you’d marry a friend? even if he potentially loved someone else or you loved another.

“what if- if you married me?”

he’d hoped you’d say that.

“you’d do that for me? seriously?” finnick faked shock as you nodded, “we’re friends, i’d much rather marry you than anyone else here to be honest. we could be happy.” you smiled as he wiped away his last tear. “y/n, that’s an amazing idea.”

your wedding was marvellous.

your parents pushed out buck after buck, no expense spared for their little girl. as if they actually cared for you. your wedding dress was white and pristine, courtesy of snow. your brown hair in curls and your brown skin glistening. but you added blue accents for finnick, or you thought you did. it’s not like he pushed for you to wear the things he bought by incessantly reminding the makeup artists and helpers that you were marrying the finnick odair, his wife deserved nothing but the best.

you stood infront of a friend, smiling, happy to be marrying a kind soul.

he stood in front of the object of his affection, his desire and love.

in the first few weeks you were undeniably happy, finnick was as sweet as ever and respected you. it was your best outcome. but overtime you seemed to notice changes in his behaviour. when you’d want to go out into town for dinner he’d always have an excuse up his sleeve.

“there’s roadworks towards your favourite restaurant honey. maybe another time?”

“apparently they’re all booked out, maybe in a few weeks time?”

“wouldn’t you rather have a home-cooked meal? i made your favourite sweetheart.”

it began to annoy after the sixth time. “it can’t always be busy can it? we use to go all the time, and it’s not like they’d refuse you finnick. what’s going on?”

“i give you everything you could ever want. why the hell do you want to go out so much? am i not enough? are you- are you seeing someone?” finnick slumped in his seat.

your eyes widened as you rushed over to him, settling on your knees as your hands were placed on his thighs, “finnick how could you say such a thing? i would never do that to you. i swear there’s nothing going on, i just, i’m bored. i’d like to go out with you, explore your district with you, meet new people with you.” finnicks eyes burnt into yours. this is certainly not how he first wanted to see you on your knees, but at least you were whining.

“yeah? you like me? you promise there’s nothing going on?” you nodded dumbly, “yes yes! nothing i promise.” finnick looked down at your hands in his lap, “how do i know you’re not lying?” your hands were on his knees as you straightened your back, coming closer to his eye level, “i promise finnick. you are my husband, i’m with you. i’ll do anything to prove it to you.”

finnick was fighting off every muscle in his cheeks to not start grinning whilst the sad look on his face was breaking your heart, “yeah? anything?” oh this was going to be good. your cheeks were flushed as you heard the words come of out his mouth, “undo my belt sweetheart, show me how much you mean it.” wavering hands hovered over his belt buckle as finnick relaxed into his seat, it couldn’t get better than this right?

wrong.

every time you asked to go out, to meet a friend, to go to the capitol he’d always sulk. and the night would end with you on your knees, him on his to make you forget, or the two of you tangled in sheets.

finnick was finally happy, he had the girl of his dreams after such a long period of sadness, of exploitation and terror. fake smiles and lingering eyes.

he finally got something out of the games.

and his gift?

the victors spoils.

#dark!finnick odair x reader #dark!finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick odair x you #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #finnick odair x fem!reader #hunger games x reader

1K notes · View notes

queen-of-deans-booty · 6 months ago

Text

Nice To Nerf You

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: When a new neighbor moves in across from you, you two start what looks to be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

Square Filled: kiss cam (2020) for @spnfluffbingo

Author’s Note: i came across this video on tiktok and it's so wholesome and cute. thus this fic! here is the video!

The best thing about living in the apartment at the end of the hallway is that you’re far enough away from the other neighbors that you hear them. There is an apartment right across from you and one to your right which is at the very end. To your left is the stairwell as well as one to the right of the apartment across from you. So, besides those two apartments, there are stairs separating you from everyone else.

No one lives in the apartment across from you, and you’re pretty sure the person to your right is dead. You never hear him inside his place, and he never comes out. He must have his groceries delivered because you once saw someone drop them off, and the next hours or so, they were gone. It’s been quiet for nearly a year, and you hope it stays that way.

You’re sitting at your desk at work playing a game on your phone when you get a notification from your Ring doorbell. Movement. Out of curiosity, you open the app to see who might be in front of your place. Maybe it’s your Amazon package you’ve been impatiently waiting for.

It’s not Amazon, but it is a man you’ve never seen before. He’s bringing boxes into the apartment across from you.

“Huh, someone finally moved in,” you say.

“Is he hot?” your coworker who sits next to you, asks.

“I don’t know. All I see is back. It’s a hot back.”

“Let me see.”

Emily scoots her chair closer to you, and you angle your phone to show her. Her eyes widen and a smile breaks out on her face.

“Hubba hubba. That guy is hot.”

You look at your phone to see the man facing your camera. Hot doesn’t even begin to describe him. He’s not too bulky but not too lean, he has a trimmed beard, he’s tan, and he has cute bow legs. He’s going to be your neighbor? A taller man with shaggy hair steps out of the apartment and grabs the last box to bring inside.

“There’s two of them,” you smirk.

“Lucky bitch. My neighbors are either too old, married, or children.”

You’ve never wanted to get home as much as you do than in this moment. At the end of the workday, you practically jog to your car. You check the Ring Doorbell and see that the hallway is cleared of all boxes which means he’s all moved in, at least for now. You start your car and open your music app to pick a playlist when you get a notification from Ring.

You open the app to see the mysterious stranger standing in front of your door holding a Nerf gun. You press the button that allows you to talk to whoever is at the door. The stranger looks even more beautiful up close.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, hi. My name is Dean Winchester, and I just moved in across the hall. I have this tradition where I play Nerf wars with my neighbors. I’m just going to leave this here. Feel free to shoot me at any time.”

Dean sets the Nerf gun on the ground and walks to his door. He waves goodbye before entering his apartment. Okay, that’s a new one. It’s such a wholesome way to get to know your neighbors, so you’re not not liking it. You try not to speed the rest of the way home, and the Nerf gun is on the ground where Dean left it.

“This is so weird,” you mutter with a smile.

You pick up the gun and walk inside your apartment. As weird as this is, this is going to be fun. You’re very competitive. It’s Friday which means you can sleep in tomorrow because you don’t have to go back to work until Monday. You have forgotten about the Nerf gun until you see it on your kitchen counter. You walk over to the door and peer through the peephole, but there is nothing in the hallway.

You walk away from the door with a smirk, already forming a plan inside your head on how to get Dean. A few hours later, you’re sitting at your computer playing some games when you get a notification from Ring about movement at your front door. You open the app and see Dean approaching his door. You jump out of your seat and grab your Nerf gun on your way to the door.

There’s no better way to do this than to just go all in. You yank the door open and start shooting at him, and he jumps from the sudden intrusion. He finches back as if the bullets actually hurt, and he struggles to get his key in the door.

“Surrender! I’ve won this round!” you laugh and continue to shoot him.

He manages to pry his door open and grabs the Nerf gun sitting by his door. He turns and shoots at you but misses both times. You jump back with another laugh and run back into your apartment. Not only is Dean shocked at how beautiful you are, but he’s also surprised he actually got you to participate. Usually, his neighbors aren’t into this kind of thing.

You lost most of your bullets but it was worth it. He can hear your laughter come from inside your apartment, and he knows you’re watching him from your Ring doorbell.

“Alright,” he laughs. “Game on, sweetheart.”

Every time you and Dean get home, the other starts shooting. You bought a bunch of bullets from Amazon to keep your supply stocked, but you also grabbed the strays from your battles. This has been going on for weeks, and it’s honestly the highlight of your day. You’ve got some letters from the neighbor to your right about the noise, but you don’t think you’re being that loud. Plus, the police haven’t been called yet so you’re going to continue to have fun with Dean. One Friday night, you leave the apartment with your trash in hand. The only reason you’re going out is because you know Dean has his brother over.

You don’t think he’d interrupt his evening with his brother to get you, but you’re about to be proven wrong.

Dean’s door opens and he steps into the hallway with a gun in hand.

“Y/N!”

You barely have time to turn around before he’s shooting at you. You squeal and try to run away but think better of it and turn back to Dean. You swing the trash bag around to try and deflect some of the bullets, but most of them hit you. Dean jumps back into his apartment when you run after him.

“Not fair, Winchester! I’m unarmed,” you laugh.

Dean opens the door but holds up one hand to show you he’s calling a truce right now.

“If I win this next round, you gotta go on a date with me.”

“What if I win?”

He smirks and leans against the doorframe. “You’re not gonna win.”

“You’re going to feel bad when I do.” You turn to leave when Dean shoots your ass. “Oh, it’s on!”

You take the trash out and are on your way back when you spot Dean in front of the elevator when it opens. You didn't know that the next round would happen now.

“No, this isn’t fair!” you squeal.

He lunges at you but you dodge his attempts to hit you. You take off running down the hallway while laughing, and he runs after you. The logical thing would be to go inside your apartment, but you’re not thinking clearly. All you’re thinking about is getting the hell away from Dean. The first thing that pops into your head is to go inside his apartment.

“Why are you in my apartment?” he laughs. He opens the door and walks inside. “Get out of my apartment.”

“Truce, Dean,” you laugh.

“Okay, fine.”

You come out of hiding. “Really?”

Dean smirks and shoots you once in the stomach. “Nope. I win.”

“No, you cheated! That’s not fair!”

“There were no rules, sweetheart. So, I guess I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven for dinner. Sounds good?”

You can’t help but smile at him. He’s making it so damn hard to be mad. Not like you were ever mad.

“Fine. Seven.”

Dean watches you enter your apartment with a smile. He can’t wait for tomorrow night. It’s all that’s going to be on both of your minds. Tomorrow comes faster than you think, and you’re just about ready for the date. You’re putting the finishing touches on your hair when you get a notification from Ring.

“Hey, I’m almost ready. I’ll be out in a minute,” you say into the app.

“I told you I was going to win,” he smirks.

You shake your head with a smile and pin up the last piece of hair. You’re dressed in a pastel pink silk shirt with black jeans that don’t look like jeans. You barely have on any makeup because it’s hot and you don’t want it to melt under the humidity. You grab your purse and join Dean in the hallway who takes a step back from shock at how good you look.

“You look… beautiful. Wow.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Winchester,” you smile. “Where are going?”

“Somewhere woodsy.”

“I wore my good silk for this. Should I change?”

“We won’t be getting out of the car.”

“Okay.”

You turn to lead the way when you feel something hit your back. You gasp and turn to see Dean holding a smaller Nerf gun he must have been hiding in his jacket pocket. You lunge at him to playfully fight when Dean puts his hands up in defense.

“Shh, shh.” He points to the neighbor at the end of the hallway with his gun. “This neighbor fucking hates us.”

“He’s written me so many letters about us,” you chuckle.

“That wasn’t him. That was me.”

“You bitch,” you laugh.

Dean escorts you to the parking garage where a beautiful ‘67 Impala is. Normally, your dates are spent in a movie theater, a restaurant, or someone’s house. Never have you ever gotten takeout food and eaten it on a cliff overlooking the city. Dean is a lot of things but boring isn’t one of them. He’s nothing like your ex-boyfriends, but maybe that’s a good thing.

“So, I’m assuming that tall man I see you with is your brother?”

“Yeah. His name is Sam. We’re retired. He has a family while I’m just trying to keep busy.”

“Retired? You can’t be more than thirty-five. What did you do before?”

“Thirty-seven, actually. We traveled the country and helped people who needed it. You know, pests and stuff like that. We got a hefty inheritance from our family, so we are able to live on that.”

“You don’t have any hobbies or anything?” you ask and take a bite of food.

“I like working on cars. I got a job as a mechanic. What about you?”

“I work at a law firm as a criminal attorney. Or I’m trying to be one. I’m still in my internship at the firm. You know, shadowing people and getting to know the ropes. I just got my degree even at thirty-four.”

“It’s never too late to pursue your dreams.”

“You got that right.”

This date has been more interesting than any of the ones you’ve been on in the past because of Dean. You connect more with him than you have in all of your relationships. The date only lasts an hour, and Dean takes you back home. It’s nice living across the hallway from your date, but you hope the relationship doesn’t tank. It’ll suck if you have to see him when there is heartbreak.

“That was fun,” Dean grins.

“It was. I had a good time with you.”

You stand in front of your Ring camera and look up at Dean through your lashes. A moment passes before Dean pulls you in by your waist. He doesn’t have to ask permission to kiss you because you’re already leaning in. Sparks fly is such a cliche thing but it’s exactly what’s happening. Something awakens inside of you, something you’ve never felt before.

Part of you is glad you did this in front of your Ring camera so that you can replay this moment over and over again.

Though, the night wouldn’t be complete without a bit of sneaky fun. As you’re kissing him, you carefully take out the small Nerf gun you stored in your purse for this exact moment. You aim at his chest and fire, and he freezes when he feels the foam bullet. He pulls away with a shocked look on his face.

“You’re not winning the next round.”

Dean can’t help but laugh. “Would you like to come in?”

“Yes.”

He kisses you once more before opening his door for you. You can see this relationship lasting a long, long time.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fiction #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fan fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fluff #supernatural fiction #supernatural fan fiction

157 notes · View notes

toriaaniin · 28 days ago

Text

No, It's Not FaceTime

Hey! Me again 😜

Shortly after I published my Lock It Down post (link at bottom of the page) I heard from a post-reader who said:

I think (Nicola) was video chatting with Luke while the music was going. You can make the box smaller when you are video chatting. Just a thought. But yes; has to be them

I love getting feedback from post-readers, so thank you to this person for sharing their thoughts!

Okeydoke... here's why I stand by this being Nicola's lock screen and not a FaceTime (FT) chat...

Let's start with this image because oh my, what a sweetie!

This is my lock screen, and my pup Juno. She passed away 3 years ago now, and I miss her terribly!

I'm sharing my screen with you because it has something in common with Nicola's lock screen: the date and time at the top. Note that the date and time do not display in this fashion when the screen is unlocked. For that reason, we must assume that Nicola's phone is locked when this photo of her holding her phone was taken.

To test out the FT theory, F @mrsfingertondepanini called me. There are a few things to make note of here (refer to photo below. The screenshot of F on the left is mine, and the one of me on the right is F's)

I answered the FT call from my lock screen. Meaning I didn't unlock my phone to answer. F DID unlock her phone to call because she needed to access the FT app.

My screen (left) does not display the date and time. My phone is locked. I didn't reduce the size of the video image of F because it didn't occur to me to test that... SO I don't know whether if I had, I would be able to see the date and time display. What I do ask is "why would I make the video box of F smaller?" That action would require me to do the whole 2 finger reducing-size maneuver. There seems no point to it. There's nothing about the image of Luke that suggests it's been made smaller (left/right image is to the edge of the screen)

Yes, we each had a little tiny video image of ourselves in the bottom right corner. Note however that our wee video isn't quite 2" tall and less than 1" wide. I did try to make mine larger, but it reduced itself back to this size moments later. On Nicola's phone, the image looks to be at least 2" plus in size, square. Further, Our little videos sit about 1/2" above the bottom of our phone screen, and there's a border to the right of our image box too. On Nicola's phone, the image is tucked right down to the edges of her screen, bottom and right side.

I've circled a little green dot at the top of F's screenshot. There's one on my screenshot that lives in F's hair. In both cases, the green dot (indicating that the camera is operational) is on the right side of centre. You'll note that Nicola's green dot is on the left side. I'm not sure what that indicates. It will not indicate that she is recording or in live video call like our right-side green dots do.

The two most important findings of all...

The primary image of Luke suggests that he's outside and in the sunshine. Nicola's Neutrogena event is in the evening. If Nicola truly was FTing with Luke, he would have to be in North America (likely West Coast) to reflect time zone differences. Possible... but probable? Even though Luke is currently MIA, I would suggest that it's not likely he's in NA.

Nicola wore black to the Neutrogena event yet the image in the bottom right corner of her screen is wearing white (blurry with pixels, but you can still see the white). If the image on the bottom right was a live recording, we'd see Nicola in black.

F and I had fun (as evidenced by our laughter) when testing out the FT theory. Because of our findings we are confident that Nicola is not FTing Luke.

One last thing just for the heck of it. Another reader asked me if I thought the primary image of Luke on the lock screen was also taken in Brazil. Bottom line is I just don't know. I do, however, have a photo that - while different - is also very similar... enough so that perhaps it can lend weight to my (your?) belief that the primary image IS Luke. Here you go...

Luke looks really puffy in this photo! It was taken back on mid-April 2023 - allergy (polin!) season. I suspect his seasonal allergies had a very bad hold on him that day, poor guy!!

I hope this information helps you to set the FaceTime theory aside😘

Aaniin Xxx

#lukola

124 notes · View notes

phoenixs-fandoms-and-writings · 8 months ago

Text

Will You Go Out With Me?

Fandom: Kick-Ass

Pairing: Dave Lizewski/Fem!Reader

Plot: You and Dave are hanging out at his place when he asks you out. However he doesn't so much as ask as blurt the question out.

Notes: I don’t own Kick-Ass or Dave Lizewski.

I do not give permission to anyone to repost or translate any of my stories. I also do not give anyone permission to feed my stories through AI or to be posted to any third party website or app. If anyone sees any of my work posted anywhere but here or my AO3 (simplyreflected), then it has been posted without permission.

Read on AO3 here.

After you’d both finished your classes for the day, you and your best friend, Dave, hung out at his place. You were so happy to be eating pizza with your best friend, both of you enjoying each other's company as you watched a movie both of you loved. After you both finished eating the pizza, he moved the box to the side of the bed, saying that he’d take it out after the movie finished.

The two of you had been close for a long time. Sometimes people thought the two of you were a couple, not that you cared. You loved Dave so much.

It was at that moment, you felt his fingers curl around yours, until he was holding your hand. It was such a nice feeling. You liked how his hand felt in yours.

You couldn’t help it when you blurted out, “Will you go out with me?”

Your eyes widened as you realised what you had asked, and just as quickly, you blurted out, “no, don’t worry about it. I swear we’re good as friends, but you’re so cute and amazing and I love you-”

You were cut off when you felt Dave squeeze your hand and sit up before cupping your cheek with his other hand, “I would love to go out with you.” He smiled shyly as his cheeks reddened.

You leaned forward and kissed him, hopefully letting him feel how much you want to be with him. You smiled into the kiss before you pulled away, smiling from ear to ear. He wrapped his arm around your back and pulled you down to him. You leaned on his chest as the two of you lay there enjoying the feeling of being close to each other.

When you finally managed to regain your breath, you looked into his beautiful and very expressive blue eyes, as you told him, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” He started to open his mouth to say something, but you carried on, “I don’t know when it happened, but I know that for the last year at least, that I’ve had a crush on you. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship by asking you out, but I wanted to on a few occasions.”

“Does this make you my girlfriend?”

“I’d like that, if that’s what you want.”

“That is definitely what I want,” he whispered. He leaned forward and placed his hand on your cheek. “Is this ok?”

You nodded. “Yeah, Dave. It definitely is.”

He leaned forward and you met him halfway, where the two of you shared a first kiss that was just as sweet as he was to you.

#kick ass fanfic #kick ass imagine #dave lizewski fluff #dave lizewski fanfic #dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski imagine #fluff #aaron taylor johnson x reader #atj x reader #dave lizewski x fem!reader

215 notes · View notes

vanteguccir · 1 year ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤGALAXY GIRL * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Matt has a crush on Y/N, an influencer extremely well-known in the USA, but when she goes to the Zach Sang Show, Matt discovers that she also has a crush on him. When the two meet at a party, how will Matt react?

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

"Hi beautiful people! I'm Zach, and that is Dan, and welcome to the studio for the first time after many requests, Y/N!" Zach began with his standard intro, the camera moving away from him and onto Y/N, who was sitting comfortably on the couch facing her microphone.

"Hii, wow... I've lost count of how many nights I've spent hours watching your show, Zach, so being here is an honor! Thank you so much for having me." Y/N spoke with a smile on her face, her eyes shining with excitement.

"It's amazing to have you here too. Believe me, the honor is ours." Zach replied, smiling just as much. "But tell me, how is life? Crazy, I imagine." He asked with a smile, taking in Y/N's features.

"Don't remind me, literally crazy! As I have Instagram, Tiktok, and YouTube to manage and post content every day, at least in one, I haven't had time to stop much, you know?" Y/N spoke while gesturing with her hands. "But it's been incredible. Over the past five years, I've loved every moment of it."

"I can only imagine, especially since you have a knack for fashion too, right? I see you a lot at events." Zach commented, taking a sip of his water.

"Yes, exactly. My content is a little bit of everything: humor, fashion, relationships, makeup, Q&A, day-to-day life, etc. I like this really mixed stuff." The girl let out a laugh when she finished.

"Yes, I think that's what attracts so many audiences to you too, right? You have subjects that cover all audiences." Zach commented, receiving a nod from the influencer. "And tell me a little about how it all started, from the beginning."

"Well, I've always been a person who loved to talk, my friends at school joked that if I sat next to an unknown person for ten minutes, within the first minute I would come up with a random topic and start a conversation." Y/N smiled when she heard Zach comment that that was something super interesting and traits of an extroverted person. "Plus, I've always liked having an audience and social media. I had Musical.ly many years ago, where I posted short makeup and hair videos."

"Wow, Musical.ly, I completely forgot it existed." Dan commented, laughing along with the other two.

"Yes, it looks like it was a crazy dream." Zach nodded, glancing briefly at Dan before returning his gaze to Y/N. "I saw some videos from that time. You once mentioned that you took makeup courses, right?"

"Yes, I took makeup courses at Make-up Forever Academy while I was at school. It's always been my favorite hobby." Y/N said, as she stirred her Starbucks coffee cup, her drink still warm. "And on Musical.ly, I only posted that, but over time, the app lost popularity, and people started looking for me on Instagram. At the time, my Instagram was pretty empty, I didn't post almost anything there, just some also makeup things. But then, I needed to change that since Instagram gave me a lot more tools to create more expansive content. It was the moment that I completely lost my shyness with cameras, you know? That's when I started talking about other things besides makeup and hair, and the audience grew. Famous people started following me as well, I remember I panicked about that." She paused, laughing, accompanied by Zach, who was listening intently.

"And my followers started asking for a YouTube channel, where I could make longer videos and each one about something specific. I thought a lot about it, but I took courage and created my channel, and it totally exploded, almost all of my followers from Instagram started to follow me there, but on YouTube the number of people doubled."

"It caught the attention of the public who only used YouTube, right?" Zach commented, nodding in understanding.

"Exactly! And I was just with this two social medias for a few years, until I discovered Tiktok, that's when I discovered that it was like an improved Musical.ly, and that a lot of people made content just on it. I remember thinking: why not? I was already fully on the Internet, and it wouldn't hurt to have another social network. The audience continued to grow, and there were shares all the time, likes, and comments, and with that, we reached 16 million subscribers on YouTube and 6 million followers on Tiktok and Instagram." Y/N finished, her face showing a smile as she momentarily remembered her long journey there.

"Your history with the Internet is truly incredible, you are one of the biggest influencers in the United States and well known all over the world, having started at 15 years old and fighting to grow and gain your own space." Zach praised, clapping playfully as Y/N waved her hand like it was nothing, her face turning red in embarrassment. "But you mentioned a subject I wanted to bring up: celebrities." He said, laughing when he saw the girl take on a fearful look.

"Jesus, what are you going to say?" Y/N asked with a smile on her face, she had already opened up her life and tastes so much to her audience, that she knew she would definitely have said something about celebrities that she didn't remember at that moment, but that Zach would bring up.

"There was a video on Tiktok where you were answering a question from a fan, who had asked what your favorite YouTube channel and your celebrity crush were." Zach began, approaching the microphone to his face. Y/N widened her eyes, taking a sip of her drink to hide her expression, vaguely remembering the video in question. "And you answered that your favorite channel was the Sturniolo Triplets and that your celebrity crush was Matt Sturniolo, is that correct?"

"Oh my God." Y/N muttered, hiding her red cheeks in her hands. "Yes, it is." She let out a nervous laugh. "The triplets are super funny, I just love their content! I'm not going to lie, I've never missed a video of them. I saw that Chris came here this year, right? I think their journey with YouTube is incredible." She said, Zach nodding as he confirmed that Chris had been on the show recently.

"They really are incredible people. Their content is gold. But, is Matt still your crush?" He asked again, looking at her with a smile on his face.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Y/N asked as she smiled sheepishly. "Yes, he's still my crush. I mean, have you seen that man? He's hot, has an incredible sense of humor, and is kind! Just perfect, just no more than Harry Styles." She counted the characteristics mentioned with the fingers of her right hand, laughing when she mentioned the British singer, trying to take all attention away from her admission about her crush.

"Yeah, guys, it seems like if you're not Matt, or Harry, you don't enter Y/N's list." Zach joked, looking at the camera, receiving laughs from the other two there.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The triplets were lying on the sofa in their home, each in a corner of the space, while using their phones. Sounds of tiktoks and reels echoed through the walls.

Nick was on his tiktok, browsing his For You, watching the millions of edits that his fans made for them, some videos of other subjects appearing from time to time. The boy let out a laugh when he saw an edit of himself with clips taken from the last car video, double-clicking on the screen to give it a like before scrolling his thumb up, Y/N's voice suddenly sounding from his phone.

Nick took his thumb away from the screen momentarily, paying attention to what one of his favorite influencers was saying, smiling as he heard her tell a little about her history with social media.

His smile was replaced by wide eyes seconds later when the girl's comment about his channel with his brothers and about Matt sounded.

"What?" He asked loudly, catching the attention of Matt and Chris, who had confused looks on their faces.

"What what?" Chris asked, locking the screen of his phone and tossing it to the side.

Matt only looked up from his own phone screen momentarily, returning his attention to his Instagram feed.

"You know Y/N?" Nick asked, his eyes darting from Matt to Chris quickly.

"That super famous influencer that Matt has had a crush on for years? Yes." Chris agreed, nodding his head as he adjusted himself in his seat, receiving a slap on the arm from his brother, who lowered his cell the moment the girl's name left Nick's lips.

"She knows who we are, and not only that, she talked about us on Zach's show." The redhead said with wide eyes.

"Zach Sang?" Matt asked, receiving a nod from Nick, who got up and walked closer to his brothers, sitting between the two and raising his phone, increasing the screen brightness and volume before hitting play on the tiktok again.

The video was a compilation of the show's favorite moments with the influencer. The triplets watched in silence until they got to the part where Y/N talked about her channel, also confirming her crush on Matt. Chris quickly turned his face to Matt with his mouth open in shock.

"Matt, THE Y/N has a crush on you." Nick reinforced, pausing the video and turning to his brother, who had wide eyes as he looked at the phone that had Y/N's face on the screen, a disbelief look on his own face.

"That's crazy." He muttered, shaking his head in denial. "It's not possible that my longtime crush has a crush on me, too. That only happens in movies. Right?" Nick rolled his eyes at the comment.

"It might be crazy, but it's not a lie. She wouldn't talk about our channel and reveal her crush on you if it was a lie or a joke." Chris commented as he fixed the hood of his sweatshirt, earning a nod from Nick.

"Next week, there will be that huge and super chic party for the biggest influencers and YouTubers in the United States here in LA, and we received an invitation. I'm absolutely sure she will be there. It would be a great opportunity to make contact with other YouTubers and get to know her, maybe even ask her to participate in a video with us." Nick reminded his brothers of the invitation, locking his phone screen and looking at the two.

"Are you sure about that?" Matt asked, an expression of uncertainty on his face. Out of the three, he was the least fond of parties, although none of them were very fond of it either.

"It would be great for the channel, Matt." Chris reinforced, shrugging. "It wouldn't hurt to try. If we don't like it, we can leave right away. But meeting Y/N seems amazing to me right now, and it would be a great opportunity for you."

"Okay."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Are you guys sure about this?" Matt asked after turning off the key in the ignition, keeping his hands on the wheel as he looked ahead, his ears picking up the loud sound coming from the party.

"Matt, it's just going to be a test, okay? It's interesting for us to make more contacts." Nick responded from the backseat, resting his hands on the sides of the front seats as he looked in the rearview mirror, waiting for Matt to look back.

Matt looked up, focusing on Nick through the mirror, who had a neutral expression. The boy shifted his gaze to Chris beside him, who was already looking at him.

Chris offered a reassuring smile, taking his left hand to Matt's right shoulder, squeezing the area.

Matt exhaled deeply as he mentally prepared himself. It had been years since he had attended such a big party.

It didn't take long for the triplets to get out of the vehicle. Matt locked the doors before they started their walk to the mansion where the loud sound of pop music was coming from.

Nick quickly pulled from the pocket of his jeans the invitation he had received in the mail that stated his and his brothers' names on expensive-looking paper and beautiful writing, holding it ready to present to the security guards at the front.

After being granted entry, the three entered the house, stopping for a few seconds at the beginning of the living room while their eyes traveled over the people there, recognizing some of their social media.

The mansion was extremely chic, decorated with golden tones and diamond chandeliers, long marsala red curtains covered the huge windows and columns that resembled those of Greek temples were spread throughout the space, along with two staircases in each hemisphere of the room with wooden handrails and a red carpet that led upstairs.

Youtubers, influencers, and celebrities filled the space, talking or dancing, some drinking, dressed in extravagant and expensive clothes.

Chris surreptitiously pointed to a specific point, making his brothers look there.

"That's Y/N, right?" He asked, earning a nod from Nick.

To Matt, the earth seemed to have stopped spinning, and the world seemed to have become static. The celebrities in the room suddenly stopped, the sound became muffled, and the smell of drinks and perfume disappeared. His breathing seemed to catch, and his throat felt dry.

Y/N looked perfect, having opted for an all-silver outfit: a mid-length skirt with a thigh-high slit from Diesel draped in synthetic silver along with a white crop top also from Diesel adorned her body. A pair of thin silver high heels decorated her feet, complemented by a silver Diesel bag and jewelry in the same color.

She looked like she came out of one of those galaxy movies, but much prettier than its characters.

Matt could have watched her from afar for seconds or minutes, just admiring her beauty and every detail of herself, but it still seemed to be too quick for his liking. Nick woke him from his hypnosis with a weak slap to his chest, getting his attention.

"You definitely don't know how to disguise it." He commented, rolling his eyes.

"Shut up, Nick." Matt responded quickly, frowning and briefly looking at Y/N again, before turning to his brothers. "I'm going to get something to drink, are you coming?" He asked, needing a cold soda at that moment.

Chris nodded, answering for himself and Nick, following his middle brother to the bar that was in the separation between the kitchen and the living room.

The space was extremely chic, a circle-shaped bar with a gold colored counter decorated with details in yellow and navy blue tiles, giving an air of wealth. At the front there were stools with synthetic gold upholstery and at the back, after the space where the bartender circulated, there was a large circular and high table filled with all types of drinks, including the most expensive ones.

Matt leaned his hips against the counter, choosing not to sit down, and glanced briefly at the bartender.

Nick sat on the stool next to him and Chris sat next to Nick, the two starting a conversation about a subject that Matt didn't pay attention to, his attention focused on the people around him, or rather, on one specific person.

His blue eyes went back and forth to Y/N's silhouette, admiring her from afar as he wished to be by her side, accompanying her and being the person she was talking to.

The girl next to Y/N and who had been talking to her since the moment Matt entered the room walked away, saying something while blowing an air kiss to the influencer, who smiled in response and turned around, facing where Matt was, but not looking directly at him, running her eyes around the people while taking sips of her drink, probably alcoholic.

Matt took a deep breath as he gathered his courage, straightening up and starting to take long steps towards the girl, crossing the room and passing among the famous people there.

"Matt, what do you want to- Matt?" Nick began, turning to where Matt was and stopping mid-sentence when he saw that his brother was no longer there.

"He's on his way to get his pot of gold." Chris commented, poking Nick with the index finger of his left hand and pointing at Matt, who was already approaching Y/N.

The brunette stopped next to Y/N, turning so that he was also facing the people around and shoulder to shoulder with her, a few centimeters between them. His hands were in the front pockets of his jeans as he breathed slowly, trying to calm his nerves.

And then her voice sounded like it was the easiest thing she'd done all day. Her voice was silky in person, so inducing that it sent goosebumps across Matt's skin.

"You were working up the courage to say hi..." She lifts the glass, taking another sip, her lips shiny with gloss and bright red lipstick, her tongue escaping her mouth momentarily, licking the residue of the drink there. "Or would you just stare at me all night?" She turned around, facing him.

Matt almost choked on his own saliva as he heard Y/N confirm that not only had she noticed he was there, but she had also noticed that he had been looking at her this entire time. A weight settled in his chest. Perhaps it was shame or lust due to the way she said that without reservation.

"I didn't mean to disturb you. You seemed quite engaged in your conversation." He made up an excuse, knowing full well that he could have gone to the girl from the moment he arrived, but his fear of what would happen held him back.

"Engaged? In a conversation about who here has the most money and fame?" Y/N threw back, furrowing her eyebrows.

Matt looked around them, stopping his eyes briefly on the girl who had previously spoken to Y/N and who was now watching the people with a gaze torn between judgment and desire. A loud laugh escaped his lips as he shook his head in denial, the pettiness of some people impressed him.

"For what it's worth, you're the only famous person here that interests me." Matt commented, his blue eyes focusing on Y/N's face, analyzing her closely. An expression of satisfaction came over his face as he saw a red color take over her cheeks.

"You flatter me, Matt." Y/N looks back at him, their eyes meeting for a few long seconds, before hers travel across Matt's face, mentally taking note of every detail she could notice in the few seconds.

The boy smiled arrogantly when he saw her eyes on him, receiving an eye roll in response.

"Do you like what you see?" He asked, his voice taking a deeper tone and his pupil dilating as his lips stretched into a smirk.

"Don't let it go to your head." Y/N responded as she scoffed playfully, allowing the beginning of a smirk to emerge on the right corner of her lip.

At that moment, Matt felt like he could do something, anything, that would make her smile like that again or smile a bigger smile. He thought of a million possibilities of what he could say to cause that reaction in her, longing to feel the butterflies in his stomach again.

"You look beautiful tonight." Matt praised, his blue eyes traveling over Y/N's body momentarily, returning to her eyes. "Not that you just look beautiful tonight. You always look beautiful. But today you..." The boy tried to justify, getting caught on his words. "Look perfect."

A sigh escaped his lips, an apologetic look taking over his eyes as his right hand scratched the back of his neck lightly, feeling like a complete idiot for getting tangled up in front of the girl he has a crush on.

"I'm sorry, this isn't how I pictured myself meeting you." He groaned, looking at the ground in shame, hoping something would surge and save him.

"So you imagined meeting me?" Y/N smiled, feeling arrogant. She bit her bottom lip, feeling smug as she watched Matt blush and his eyes widen. "I'm kidding. You look beautiful tonight, too." Y/N let out a low laugh, returning the previous compliment, running her tongue between her lips, wetting them as her eyes traveled over Matt, pausing lingeringly on his exposed collarbone with the tank top he was wearing, the necklaces that decorated his neck made her mouth water.

Before Matt could even open his mouth to answer her, the sound of footsteps approached, catching both their attention. Y/N tore her eyes away from Matt's blue ones and looked ahead, seeing the same girl from before approaching again, holding herself back from instantly rolling her eyes.

The boy realized that the conversation would change direction and that, perhaps, he would no longer be included in it. A subtle sigh escaped his lips, and he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans again, looking at Y/N briefly, realizing that she was already looking back.

"I'm sorry." She asked, pressing her painted lips into a thin line before a beautiful, wide smile replaced it. "Text me on Instagram. You will be my priority to respond." Y/N spoke before being gently pulled away by her "friend", turning her face back quickly and sending the brunette a wink before looking forward again.

Matt watched her from behind as her high-heeled legs took long, quick steps away from him, a goofy smile taking over his features. He would definitely send that text.

618 notes · View notes