#this is technically still fresh news as of posting this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dollfacefantasy · 10 months ago

Note

neglect kink with older leon???!!?!? like… you’re super horny whining and begging for his attention and he’s just. completely ignoring you. maybe he eventually lets you cockwarm him but he’s still ignoring you… the only way you know he’s enjoying this is because he’s still hard… no sounds or nothing. you’re so desperate for ANYTHING a kiss, a touch, literally any words at all but he’s just focused on his work!!! maybe daddy kink because everything needs daddy kink… maybe, like, you did something bad so this is your punishment… i don’t know… maybe he gives you the attention eventually or not!!!!

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: you've been bad, but you never seem to learn from spankings. leon has to try something new to remind you why you should be a good girl.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, cockwarming, masturbation, overstimulation, daddy kink, praise/degradation, age difference, dom/sub stuff (rules, punishment, etc.)

word count: 6.2k

a/n: you're so right, everything does need daddy kink <3 thank you for the request, love. i hope it's what you were wanting. i imagine post-DI leon for this so he's a bit older, but i just used DI for the pic. anyhow, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

Your deep breaths and soft whimpers had overtaken the quiet murmur of the tv in your bedroom. An old movie played on it, one you had seen time and time again. It no longer had your attention. Instead, you’re focusing on playing with the pulsing bud between your legs. Your fingers thrum back and forth over the sensitive spot, hips pushing down against the mattress as sparks fly in your belly.

Technically, you weren’t supposed to be doing this. It was one of the rules you agreed to when Leon had approached you with some things he wanted to try out for your sex life, just a small set of guidelines to play with. ‘No touching yourself without daddy’s permission' had been listed among others. He counted each one on his fingers as he did, and you nodded your head and looked up at him with your sweet set of eyes. The same set that now flutters with ecstasy as you played your forbidden game. But as long as he didn’t know, it was fine, right?

Your heels dig into the blankets beneath you while your breasts rise and sink with each inhale and exhale. You feel that hot sensation between your legs, the tightening cord, the boiling pleasure. You’re about to let it loose until you hear the front door open and shut, keys clatter on the table, and the familiar grunt Leon does when he slips his shoes off, using the tip of one on the heel of the other.

You nearly miss these little cues because of the rain clashing against your windows, but in a stroke of luck, you catch it all and tear your hand out of your shorts at light speed. Leon’s just walking into the bedroom as you drape the blanket over yourself. Shifting around a little to get comfy, you then gaze up at him, putting some tenderness into your eyes in hopes of throwing him off your scent.

As he gets closer, you take in his appearance. Little droplets of water on the shoulders of his jacket from the rain outside. Shiny hair fresh from the shower he took this morning, shaggy bangs hanging down into his face. Tired glaze over his eyes, work must not have been a walk in the park.

Once he approaches you, he raises his eyebrows, and for a second, you’re sure you’ve been found out. But all he does is sit next to you on the edge of the bed and run a hand over your head. His eyes fixate on you as if he’s studying your features. Your heart pounds, waiting to hear the words belt, over my knee, or sore & stinging leave his lips, but they don’t.

“Been having a nice day, baby?” he asks you, petting your head a few more times.

“Mhm,” you respond. Innocent enough.

“That’s good. What have you been doing?” he asks. Oh fuck.

“Um, just watching a movie,” you answer.

“Yeah? That all?” he continues. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Pretty much. It’s all rainy out. Don’t really feel like getting out of bed,” you say with a casual shrug.

He nods. It seems like an approving gesture, but you could swear there’s a little knowing glint in his eyes. Maybe that’s just your imagination. Hopefully, that’s just your imagination.

“Alright. I gotta go finish up some work for a while, just wanted to check on you first. Keep being a good girl for me,” he tells you. He gives you a small pat on the ass before getting up and walking out of the room as quickly as he had entered.

Your body relaxes, and your pulse descends to normal levels. Maybe you did pull it off. Heist of the century in your book. You settle in to truly just pay attention to the tv for now, but it’s not as simple as it should be when you’re still so pent up. You’d just breached the threshold of release, before you were torn out and back to reality. You could feel the slick that had gathered between your legs, the ache in your clit calling out to your fingers.

The thought of continuing does cross your mind. It would be so easy. Without any suspicion on you, all you would have to do is clamp a hand over your mouth and rub slower so the bed didn't creak. Plus, when he went in his office, he usually worked until the evening anyway. You could cum and be done with it before he had the slightest idea.

No, no, no. You told him you’d be a good girl. You wouldn’t wanna break daddy’s heart by being bad, right? No, you wanted to make him proud. You resign to wait until he wants to play with you. He always did; you can’t recall a night he left you wanting. So you lay on your side, eyes focused on the blue-tinted screen across the room, and keep it together.

But hours go by. And then more hours go by. You keep yourself occupied, marathoning nearly an entire franchise of movies, eating, going on your phone. But none of it fills the Leon-shaped void inside you.

This was the longest he’d ever been in that office. He never worked in there into the night. He always told you that he tried to spend as little time in there as possible. That’s time that could be spent with his good girl, that’s what he told you. Only you hadn’t been a good girl today.

You shake your head, and tell the stupid little voice inside to zip it. He seemed tired, remember? This is probably just an extension of that. He knew he’d have to come home and be in his office all day. It was all a coincidence, this whole thing. There was literally no way he could know what you’d been doing. But daddy knows you better than you know yourself.

Oh god. This was like some form of torture, you’re sure of it. Self-inflicted, or was it really? He was the one who’d made you this way. Whatever. Enough was enough. There was no reason to be paranoid. You could literally just go ask him. Sort this out and soothe your anxiety, so you can go back to waiting patiently like the good girl that you are.

Pushing the covers to the side, you slide out of bed and head down the hall to his office as thunder crackles outside. A gentle push on one of the French doors leads you into the room you rarely entered. Despite that, you liked it in here. Leon’s desk faced away from the door, towards the window that looked out onto the street. The curtains were drawn now, brown fringe overlapping with the spare cushions on the window seat below it. Some bookshelves lined the walls perpendicular to his desk, though you never had the time to actually check their contents.

You walk a few paces into the room. Your eyes cast over to him. He doesn’t even look like he’s doing much for someone working into the night, but who are you to judge? You step over a crinkle in the rug to stand in front of his desk. Your hands rest on the hardwood as you gaze at him over the monitor of his computer.

“Hi,” you say simply.

He nods. A movement so vague that he could’ve told you his head twitched, and you’d believe him.

“Whatcha doing?” you ask.

“Work.”

You stare at him for a moment. Sure, he wasn’t normally super chatty, but he also wasn’t usually so clipped. He knows.

“How’s it going?” you say.

You’re met with a shrug. You have to up your efforts.

Circling around his desk, you position yourself behind him and wrap your arms over his shoulders. You drag your nose against his cheek like an affectionate kitten and kiss the skin a few times.

“How much longer you gonna be in here?” you ask. Your voice remains gentle and undemanding.

“A while,” he grunts. The clacking of the keyboards starts up again, and his eyes remain locked on the documents in front of him.

“But you’ve been in here for hours,” you point out and feign a pout.

“And I’ll be in here for even more if you keep bothering me,” he says with a little gesture that wasn’t fully shrugging you off but at the same time was shrugging you off.

Ouch. Your pout was no longer feigned. You stand up straight and walk back to where you stood originally. He still doesn’t spare you even the smallest of glances.

“Can I stay in here with you?” you ask hesitantly.

“If you want to,” he says. Wow. Not that he wanted you to, no. If you wanted to. Sure, people could call you sensitive for being upset about that, you don’t care. You’re tempted to leave with a huff, slamming the door behind you, but now you’re even more curious if he was aware of your illicit afternoon activities. You kinda hope he is at this point because at least that would give a reason for his icy attitude.

You walk over to the one other chair in the room. Yeah, there was the window seat, but as pretty as you’d made it for him, decorating it with little throw pillows and cute coverings, it wasn’t very comfortable. You plop down on the corduroy cushioning of the beaten-up seat in the corner. with a sigh. Bringing your legs up over the armrest, you lean back against the opposite one and scan the room out of boredom. Your feet swing back and forth absentmindedly as you puff breaths of disinterest from between your lips.

You really try to give him time to finish, but it feels like he’s taking actual eternity. Also, it sounds like he’s barely doing anything, and now you are going to judge because he’s cutting into your precious personal time with him. You stare at him for several minutes, keeping your eyes locked on his face. Unlike any normal person who’d get uncomfortable, he just continues “working.” Finally, you crack.

“How’s it going?” you ask.

No response.

“Are you almost done?” you try again.

Nothing.

Your eyes darken, your frown growing. “Leonnnnn,” you whine.

And still absolutely nothing. You have one more weapon in your arsenal. If this doesn’t work, you know you’ll just have to pack it up for the night.

“Daddy…” you whimper, using the softest voice you could manage, the one that always shot right through him. You jut your bottom lip out a bit more and put that pleading in your eyes. After this, all you have is literal tears, and you’re hoping it doesn’t go to that point.

Leon knows this, and he doesn’t want it to get that far either. He finally spins his chair in your direction. His eyes land on your face. He has to repress the smirk rising to his face over your neediness.

“Funny how that name seems to always slip out most when you want something,” he replies.

At least he wasn’t ignoring you anymore. “All I want is your attention…” you say, keeping up your sweet performance.

“Oh yeah?” he taunts, “Tell me, baby. Were you thinking of daddy today when you were home alone?”

Your eyes dart away from his face, but you force them back. You couldn’t blow this by being too obvious, so you respond with a simple nod.

“I thought so, princess. What else would have had you so riled up today when I came home? It wouldn’t be because you were breaking one of your rules, would it?” he asks. His tone was obviously leading. He knew. You were so desperate for him though that at this point you were starting to think a spanking wouldn’t be that bad. At least it was some form of physical contact to sate you.

“I wasn’t riled up earlier,” you say quietly with a little shrug.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re not lying are you? Cause that’s another rule. Two broken rules in one day. That wounds me, babydoll,” he says.

“I’m not breaking any rules. I’m being honest,” you say.

“So you being all squirmy, hot skin, heavy breathing; that wasn’t you being riled up? Is daddy imagining things now? Do I not know what my girl looks like when she’s aching for me?” he asks, “What she looks like when she’s been trying to solve her little problem herself?”

Finally, he unveils his reasoning. You freeze and stare at him, trying to think of what to say. Even though you wanted attention, there was still that innate part of you that hated being in trouble. You’d much rather be perched on his lap to be loved on like the precious thing you were.

“I don’t know what you mean,” is your weak attempt at an excuse. He laughs and leans back in his chair, the old springs creaking with his motion.

“Did you put your fingers inside or just play with that pretty little clit?” he asks, eyes boring into you as he goes for the kill.

“Just my clit…” you mumble and look down.

Shaking his head again, he turns back to his computer. You watch him, expecting him to start in on you again. To lecture you about your impatience. Tease you about your borderline pathetic need for him. Take you over his knee and crack you on the ass while making you repeat each of your rules back to him.

But none of this happens. Instead, this man just goes back to straight up ignoring you. Your jaw drops and a confused whine comes from your throat. “Daddy, c’mon. I’m sorry,” you say.

He resumes typing, fingers gliding over the keys and eyes fixed on the little words appearing in front of him. You groan in frustration and sink back against the brown ribbed fabric of your chair. You glare at him from your place, trying to telepathically will him into entertaining you again. You must be lacking in mental communication though because he doesn’t change what he’s doing at all. One of your thighs crosses over the other, unintentionally giving your pussy a little friction.

That’s what made this all the more frustrating, you were still unsatisfied from earlier. You should’ve just made yourself cum like you wanted. You’d be in trouble either way. You could only hope he’d take it easy on you now for having chosen the former.

Different scenarios run through your head for how you want to play this. A spectrum of possibilities lies in front of you. On one end, you could just leave. Keep whatever dignity you had left, cut your losses, and go to bed. On the other, you could be over the top. Hop in his lap and smother him with a flurry of kisses before he could object. Either one would probably only earn you more punishment, so you try to think of a middle ground. A way to continue the game.

As you think, your right hand lazily runs up and down your chest. Your middle finger coasts over the area spanning from the valley between your breasts to your navel. Taking your lip between your teeth, you decide to start here. Your fingers move to your tits and round your nipples. The buds harden into small peaks beneath your shirt. You pinch and pull at them gently, and your cunt flutters in response to the teasing. You shift your hips up before shimmying your shorts off and letting them drop to the ground beside your chair.

You reposition yourself next to sit properly in the chair. Your heels come to rest on the plush cushion as you spread your legs and expose your damp panties to him. Not that he bothered to look.

Now your fingers moved down there. They pet your most sensitive area over the thin, wet cloth. Your breath hitches as your fingertips brush over your clit. You press down a little harder and make a soft breathy whine. His eyes flit in your direction, but they don’t linger. Take what you can get, you guess.

You slide your digits back down and massage your dripping entrance. The fabric becomes more wet as you rub it on your slick folds. Your middle and ring finger move in tandem to stoke the flames down there and to ensure the fabric is completely soaked. Once that mission is accomplished, you lift your hips for the second time to remove this garment. Only you don’t drop it to the floor. This time you toss them in his direction, landing them on his desk, lace half covering one of his wrists, half covering a section of his keyboard.

The sound of typing halts, putting the room into silence, spare the raindrops splatting against the window. His eyes remain stern and not on you. Without even looking down, he wads the panties up and shoves them in his pocket. The sound of typing resumes.

“Daddy,” you huff, “I got ‘em all wet just for you.”

He still doesn’t acknowledge you. You let out a growl of sorts and narrow your eyes at him. Your fingers slip through your arousal coating your center. You pay more attention to your clit now that it’s exposed.

“I just missed you so much today. I couldn’t help it,” you reason.

You whimper and squirm in your chair as you start rubbing faster. Your eyes are still locked on him, watching for the slightest crack in his resolve. So far there are none. You continue toying with yourself.

“I was thinking of you the whole time,” you whimper, “That should count for something. I was imagining your hands and your eyes looking down at me. I was pretending I could hear your voice.”

He remains unaffected. Your head tilts back against the plush cushioning as your hips rock in place. You mewl softly which soon turns into a long, drawn-out whine. Finally, he shifts in his seat a little, and you know right away it’s cause he’s starting to get hard.

“I just love you so much, daddy. Can’t control myself when you’re not around,” you say, further chipping away at the little dent in his stoic facade.

Your moans increase in volume as does the slippery sounds coming from your fingers moving through your slick. That feeling from this afternoon is starting to come back. Pleasure builds in your abdomen, one piece stacking on top of the other. You’re shaking more, voice getting less even with each little cry of joy. He finally turns to look at you when you start doing that thing you do when you’re about to cum, the ultra-specific puff of your chest that rolls through your abdomen to your hips. His eyes capture yours, unamused with your antics.

“If you cum right now, a spanking is the only kind of attention you’ll be getting until you learn some self-control,” he tells you.

In an instant, your fingers sputter to a stop. Your mind bounces back and forth on what to do like a metronome. But as always, your craving for Leon’s approval wins out over every other option. You remove your hand from between your legs and even sit up, closing your thighs. Maybe now, he’ll see you’re being good and cut you some slack.

Yeah, right.

He goes back to his computer. Again. You’re about to lose your mind or explode, you aren’t sure which will come first. Standing from the chair, you start walking to his desk. He still didn’t look at you! How rude, you’d think that the touching yourself rule was his favorite or something even though you knew it wasn’t. That title belonged to the rule that let him pick your outfit whenever the two of you went out.

A few paces in his direction, and you’re back right where you started. Arms looped over his shoulders, nuzzling your face against his cheek, and kissing the side of his head. “I said I’m sorry daddy,” you say softly, “I’m really really really really sorry. I know I was a bad girl, but only for that.”

He grunts and scoots closer to his desk, away from your embrace. A noise of exasperation leaves you, and without thinking, you roll the chair back a couple inches and embrace him again, only tighter. A grin rises on your face when you see the bulge that had formed in his lap.

“Pretty please? I’ll take whatever punishment. I don’t want daddy to be mad at me anymore,” you plead and give him some more pecks on the cheek. You knew you probably looked ridiculous, pantless and visibly horny, but that wasn’t a true concern at this moment in time.

“Go to bed,” he states simply, “I’ll deal with you later.”

That wasn’t good enough. You wanted him now.

“Daddy,” you whine, stretching out the last syllable. You lower yourself to your knees and slink down in front of his chair. “C’mon, I said it like a million billion trillion times. Can’t we just kiss and make up?”

He stares down at you, not impressed with your show of submission. He was playing harder than usual. He knew that wouldn’t deter you though. You squish your cheek against his thighs as your hands creep up his legs.

“Do I have to make a special apology?” you ask, looking up at him with puppy eyes.

He pushes your hands away as they reach his thighs. “Quit it,” he growls, “Let me finish my work and maybe we can work something out.”

But you don’t quit it. You move yourself closer to one of his legs, preparing to put on a little show for him if need be. Your eyes don’t quit and neither does the pleading expression on your mouth.

“But I need my daddy now,” you huff, “I-”

And that’s it. You’re cut off by Leon reaching down and yanking you into his lap.

“Such a fuckin’ brat,” he grunts, “Ready to hump my leg like a bitch in heat cause I don’t give you attention for a couple hours.”

You squirm a bit as his hands rub up and down your sides and squeeze your hips. He stills you with a firm slap to your ass. Both of your eyes gaze into the others, the small spheres swirling with arousal, annoyance, and adoration.

“I just missed you. I would’ve left you alone if you weren’t so mean to me,” you point out.

“Who says I have to be nice to you? You don’t get to decide when you wanna listen based on that,” he says and pulls you to his chest. You lean in against the muscular expanse while his hand snakes between the two of you to get at his button and zipper. “Your job is being a good girl. Not just when you feel like it. Not only when daddy’s giving you kisses and calling you pretty. The only time you stop is when I say, and that didn’t happen today did it? Am I imagining things again?”

“No,” you agree reluctantly, “But I-”

“Cut your yapping out. I’ve heard enough. Give me some quiet or I’ll put those panties to good use,” he threatens.

As your lips fall shut, you hear the tug of his zipper and feel him shift as he takes himself out. Now you’re really quiet, more from anticipation than obedience.

“Now I’m gonna let you sit on my cock, but that’s it. No squirming, no ‘getting comfy,’ no whining, no ‘but daddy.’ You act up too much, and I’m truly sending your ass to bed for the night.”

You look up at him and nod, not even speaking because you didn’t want to cut your chances at dick off before they started.

“Good,” he says.

One of his hands helps elevate you so that he can position his length underneath you. The tip slips through your folds, already soaked from your prior escapades. He doesn’t tease too much, wasn’t interested in hearing you beg right now. He’d heard enough of that for tonight. He pushes you down onto it. His mouth twitches, and he sucks in a deep breath as he feels the warmth of your walls engulf his cock.

You slide all the way down with ease. Looking back at his face again, you feel the insatiable urge to give him a little kiss. If you did that though, would that be one of the things you aren’t supposed to be doing?

“Daddy… can I have a little kiss first?” you ask.

He merely shoots you a look that tells you don’t push it.

With a final look of defeat, you nestle yourself against his chest, head on his shoulder so you can look up at his face. He was so focused. If you didn’t know you were here, you never would suspect he’d be up to this level of multitasking.

You let out a sigh. It was nice being full, but you still yearned for more. You were really trying to be good though, so there wasn’t much for you to do. Minutes tick by as you try in earnest to think of a potential solution. To make matters worse, at a certain point, after you’d been on his dick for a while, his hand starts roaming your back. A soothing touch that made your walls flutter around him. He knew it would too, you could tell from that little smirk on his face.

Trying to focus on the positives, you mentally study every feature of his cock that you can feel. It’s so deep, he’s resting right against the spot that could drive you wild when properly battered. It pulsed rhythmically, twitching slightly when your muscles would contract or release around his shaft.

You’re actually doing better than expected, letting your mind wander. But then, he’s the one to move a bit under the guise of necessary readjustment. The whimper that falls from your lips is inevitable. He shushes you, and you mutter an apology, but that simple movement was enough to reignite the fire in your belly.

You bite your lip, the neediness in your eyes intensifying. “Daddy?” you whisper, testing the waters.

Nothing.

So he had gone back to this? Not if you could help it. You don’t bother speaking again. Instead, you move the tiniest bit, rolling your hips as you act like you’re shifting to alleviate a cramp. To your shock, he doesn’t say anything, just shifts his hips a bit in return.

You glance up hopefully. Maybe he was going to ease up, but he just didn’t want to verbally admit it. You move a little more, but this time, you’re a bit too zealous in your attempt. His hands grab your hips and dig into your flesh, keeping you in place.

You’re so pent up and frustrated. Your forehead thuds back onto his shoulder. “Ple-”

“What did I say?” he asks.

“But da-”

“What did I say?” he asks again and tightens his grip.

“I just wanna cum,” you whimper, “It hurts, been achy all day.”

“Oh it hurts, does it?” he mocks. He jerks your hips to give you some fleeting friction while maintaining his control. “What is it about today that’s making it so hard for you to listen?”

“I-” you start to defend yourself out of instinct but can’t actually come up with anything. “I don’t know.”

“That’s right you don’t. So quit acting like you do. You think with that slutty little pussy, and then act like you don’t need daddy to make the decisions. It’s a little disappointing, babydoll,” he scolds.

Your eyes flicker with every stage of grief as he says this. That’s literally the worst thing he could say. He could call you any name in the book and you’d brush it off with an eyeroll or a “hmph.” But disappointing? That was evil. That word could worm its way into your heart and weigh on you for days.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly in a desperate attempt to remedy, “I just… I’m so pent up. Can’t think with my head when my pussy keeps distracting me.”

“Oh, poor baby,” he mocks with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

“That’s why I have to cum,” you plead, “I need it. It’s not even the same when I do it. I should’ve just waited. I’m sorry.”

“You need it?” he repeats, “So fuckin’ spoiled. I give you some dick even when you don’t deserve it, and it’s still not enough. I gotta train some gratitude into you next.”

“You’re the one who spoils me,” you pout.

“Oh, so it’s all my fault? So you’re saying I shouldn’t be so easy on you, huh?” he challenges.

You shake your head as fast as humanly possible, now set on backtracking your fuck up. But it was too late. “No, I was just sayi-” you start before he cuts you off yet again.

“And just when I was about to start fucking you too? That’s a damn shame,” he says.

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head more. This had gone from a slight improvement to a downward spiral.

“I mean, why would I bother now? All you care about is getting to cum. Don’t care about all the work daddy puts in to make you feel good the entire time,” he taunts, “If that’s the case, then go ahead. Cum. Take what you want, but don’t you dare move those hips.”

Your look of anguish evolves into that of confusion. You don’t really want to question him right now, but you’re unsure of how you’re supposed to follow that command. “I can’t…” you say softly.

“Why not?” he asks.

“Not enough,” you answer.

“Then make it enough,” he growls, “You were having so much fun today with those fingers. They don’t work anymore?”

Oh. Your face feels hot as the realization dawns on you. You shyly bring your hand to your center and awkwardly fumble with your clit. You look at him, silently begging to ride him.

“You can do better than that,” he responds, “You were putting on such a show earlier, so don’t act like you need my help all the sudden.”

Shamefully, your fingers pick up some speed. You whimper as the pads of your digits rub over a sensitive spot. The whole time he’s still inside you. It felt kind of weird, but still good. You weren’t going to complain. Your upper body twitches a bit, but he holds you straight up, making sure you're looking at him while you work.

“That’s it. How’s it feeling, baby? Is it as good as when daddy does it?” he taunts.

“No…” you whimper, “It’s ok.”

“Aw, well, it’s gonna have to be good enough for now because it’s the only way you’re cumming.”

You groan and whine at the statement. It was the truth, but that didn’t mean you wanted to hear it. You start circling faster and flicking your hand with more urgency. Your head falls back at the sensations as a breathy moan floats from your lips. He squeezes your hips again as you tighten around his cock from the euphoria you brought yourself.

“Look at that. Think you’re gonna be able to cum all by yourself?” he teases.

You nod. Your hips rock involuntarily as the pleasure ramps up, but his grip keeps you stationary. Little gasps like the ones from earlier when you were in the chair escape you. Your fingers move almost like they’re automated.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please can I finish?” you whimper, “Wanna cum so bad, daddy, please?”

“I already gave you permission, baby. Guess you really wanna show me how good you actually are,” he chuckles.

You can’t even say anything back before the switch flips inside you and release tears through you. Your back stiffens up and a strangled rope of moans come out of you. Your hips jerk harder than before, giving you brief brushes with the head of his cock. He sighs contentedly as you flutter around his cock and provide him with a muted sense of bliss.

You’re still riding it out when his hands are no longer just holding you, but rather, beginning to bounce you. You feel it in your cunt before your brain even catches up with the general motion of your body. It’s because you’re still so sensitive. The tingly stab pulling a quiet shriek from you.

“Daddy, gimme a break,” you whine.

“What? Daddy doesn’t deserve to finish too? Is that what you think? You just get to have your fun, and leave me to deal with it. That’s not how it works, princess,” he says.

“I’m not- I didn’t… I just can’t… it’s too much,” you struggle to get out between the whimpers coming from you. He keeps bouncing you, groaning as that hushed ecstasy blossoms into an encompassing euphoria. The noises of him sliding in and out are nearly louder than all the whining and moaning you’re doing.

“You can take it,” he grunts, “I’ll say when you’ve had enough.”

You cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain as his hips start to meet your hips guided by his hands. A deep groan rumbles in his chest as your cunt’s constant contracting massages his length. After a while, it feels like you’re almost numb down there. The fire still rages in your belly, but your actual pussy has been beaten into submission by your boyfriend’s cock. He watches your face as he moves you, relishing the way your eyes are getting glossy with a cocktail of tears, both of overstimulation and relief.

“So pretty for me, sweetheart. Gonna be even prettier when you cum again all over my dick and milk me dry,” he grunts.

“Uh huh,” you moan without thinking, head wildly falling back and forth in what’s supposed to be a nod.

Soon enough, his chest and belly are tightening up. He knows the end is near and pistons into your cunt extra hard for the finale. You wail and grip his biceps for support as you explode. You didn’t ask to cum this time, but being so close to his own release, he couldn’t really find it to care.

He keeps going through your orgasm, practically making you sob in pleasure. You feel impossibly tight, warm, and wet. And when he sees how your precious face is getting tight too, scrunching up as you reach the peak of the peak, he can’t hold it off.

His fingers dig into your hips so hard that you feel like the future bruises are already there. Your eyes are rolled back in advance as he fires his cum deep inside you. A goofy smile graces his features as he pumps it in, enjoying the waves of pleasure that wash over him throughout. And the whole time you’re pulsing away through your own release.

You look even dumber than he does, silly smile not just on your lips, but visible in your eyes too. You’re whimpering, extra whiny and a higher pitch. He rubs your skin to remind you he’s right there. He can see your head coming back to reality as the whirlpool of ecstasy subsides.

“Oh that’s it, there’s my good girl,” he coos as you finally reach the end of the high. His hand rubs your back in long, even strokes. “So proud of you, sunshine.”

A dreamy, self-satisfied grin comes across your face. His words were the best drugs while you were in this state, and the tone of his voice only made them that much more addictive.

“Such a good girl,” he repeats, “Now how ‘bout you give daddy a kiss.”

Eagerly you boost yourself towards his lips to connect in a hazy smooch. You’re a bit sloppy with it, but he expected that and found it cute. Of course you were dizzy. He just fucked you stupid. Once you pull away, he strokes your hair and smiles at your blissed out face.

“Aw, cutie. Looks like it’s time for you to head to bed,” he says as his fingers move to rub your cheek.

“You too. I wanna cuddle,” you say, locking your arms around him.

“Mhm, I’ll be right behind you. I gotta finish up the last of this. Now that I don’t have you distracting me, it should only take about fifteen minutes,” he teases.

“That’s like a million years, and I already had to wait all day,” you sigh dramatically.

“Then I’m sure you can handle a few more minutes,” he says and rubs his nose against yours, “Don’t start getting mouthy with me, little love. I still have those panties I can easily turn into a gag.”

With a playful glare, you get up on wobbly legs to make your exit, dizzy smile still plastered on your face. You start to stumble to the door when he calls out to you.

“Wow princess, not even going to say good night to daddy? I expected better from my baby,” he chides teasingly.

You roll your eyes while smiling and return to him to smack one final big kiss on his lips. “Night daddy,” you say with a small giggle.

He smirks at your clear happiness. As you turn to leave, he swats your ass. “I’ll be right there. Bet you’ll already be passed out by the time I get there,” he says as his fingers start working the keyboard again.

“I’ll be dreaming of you though,” you tease before going out the doors and down the hall to your bed.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil x you #smut

1K notes · View notes

nubisaureus · 2 years ago

Text

how they react when you slip out of their arms

how the genshin boys react when you try to get out of their arms in bed because it's hot

character(s): Tighnari, Diluc, Zhongli

pairing(s): fem!reader x Tighnari, Diluc, Zhongli (separately)

content: fluff, established relationship, clinginess, cuddles, sleeping in the same bed, silliness, a touch of angst, suggestive language?

a/n: please bear with me, I'm still trying to find a formatting that I like, as I'm very new on this site. So my apologies if the posts are formatted differently every time!

It's also my first time writing for Tighnari and Zhongli, so please let me know what you think <3

not proofread

That being said, enjoy!✼　

┍━━━━━━━━━━━»•» 🌺 «•«━━━━━━━━━━━┑

Tighnari

It had been a hot day. Not in the way one may be thinking of though. Hot as in, scorching hot. The sun had been mercilessly beating down in the Avidya Forest, resulting in a humid weather that had been sucking the absolute life out of you.

One would also think that the night would be cooler, and technically, it was, if it wasn't for your boyfriend's tail, wrapped around you as an almost third arm, mimicking his actual arms that were hugging you close, making you sweat because of the weather.

You carefully slipped out of the hug, finally breathing some fresh air, and slightly moved out of Tighnari's reach, desperately looking for the colder side of your pillow.

«Mh...?» Tighnari's groan suddenly alerted you, and that was soon followed by his tail wiggling around, only to curl around air.

«[name]?» he called, still half lidded.

You freaked out: you didn't want to tell him the truth, so you pondered whether to pretend to be asleep or confess.

He opened his eyes, staring at you.

«Oh, there you are.» perking up at the sight of you, he kept staring. «Is.. everything alright?» he then continued, concern finding its way on his features.

You looked away, ashamed.

He gently grabbed your chin, redirecting your gaze towards him. «Hey. Talk to me. What happened?» he continued, even more concerned.

You sighed, not able to bear his concerned face. «I..was just hot, Nari. Your tail is very warm, and it's lovely in winter, but in this season..it's rather uncomfortable. I'm sorry.»

He sighed. «You could've just told me, you know.» and moved his tail out of the way, putting it behind his back. The bed now felt much cooler, and you felt like you could breathe again.

He then looked at you, dead serious.

«What is it now???» you were on the defensive.

«You're obligated to cuddle now.» he said with the best poker face you had ever seen.

You gasped at how he could look so serious while saying the silliest stuff, and got closer to him.

His arms sneaked their way back to your waist, and you rested your head on his chest, inhaling his scent, that was so familiar to you by now, yet so foreign at the same time.

«Goodnight sleepyhead.» he kissed your hair.

«Goodnight, Nari.»

──────────────────────────────

Diluc

Despite Mondstadt being the city of the wind, it seemed like Lord Barbatos hadn't been very benevolent on his citizens as of lately. And that came in the form of hot wind that, combined with the hot weather of the season, had led to many restless nights.

Tonight was no different. Despite the bed being more comfortable than the one at the Knight's Headquarters, Diluc's presence made falling asleep an arduous task.

Not only because you had been staring at him for the past 10 minutes or so, his relaxed face a sight that you wanted to cherish as much as possible, but the connection he had with the Pyro element made him rather unfit for the current weather.

It also didn't help that he had forgotten to take his Vision off, and so he was even more in contact with the Pyro energy imbued within it, and you couldn't do anything about it. (a/n i have this headcanon where only the owner of a Vision can freely move their Vision around).

You were uncomfortable. Actually, uncomfortable couldn't even begin to describe it.

What to do..?

His arms were tightly wrapped around you, as if he was afraid to lose you any second, but you couldn't take the heat anymore, so you carefully slipped out of his arms, standing up and stretching your body.

You walked all the way towards the open window facing the beautiful vineyards of Dawn Winery, letting the cool breeze of the night caress your features. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the quiet atmosphere all around you.

After a few moments though, you heard rustling coming from behind you.

«[Name]? [Name]! Where are you?» the slight panic in Diluc's tone alarming you, you rushed back to the bed.

«Diluc. I'm here.» you climbed onto the bed, making your way to his side once again. He held you close, and you could feel his pounding heartbeat calming down.

«You scared me, [name]. Why are you up so late?» he inquired.

You blushed, your cheeks threatening to become redder than his hair.

«I was..hot. You forgot to take your Vision off last night, and I obviously can't do it in your stead. But you looked so peaceful, I couldn't find the courage in me to wake you up. I'm sorry..» you looked at him, his expression turning into one of guilt, only to turn soft as you finished speaking.

He took his Vision off, setting it on the bedside table.

«I'm sorry I forgot to take my Vision off, love. Next time though, wake me up. I don't want you to overheat and potentially pass out, especially in this hot weather, okay?» he looked at you, waiting for a confirmation that you had received and understood his words.

«Alright. I will. I promise.» he smiled gently, opening his arms again, beckoning for you to claim your place back.

You gladly took the bait, and snuggled closer, his temperature now that of a normal human being.

«Feeling better?» he asked, gently stroking your hair.

«Yes. Much better.» and you kissed him goodnight.

──────────────────────────────

Zhongli

It was a hot night in Liyue. Despite the rooms at Wangshu Inn being decently ventilated, you were feeling hot. Zhongli's massive body wrapped around you wasn't helping either.

You tried to wiggle around, but your boyfriend, true to his archon element, had a rock hard grip on you, and so you were effectively caught in his embrace.

You sighed.

«Zhongli..» you whispered, trying to wake him up so he would let go.

No answer.

«Zhongli.» you called further, a little louder this time, and his eyelids finally fluttered, signaling he had at least heard something.

You called him again, finally catching his attention, getting rewarded with his half lidded amber eyes looking at you.

«Yes, dearest?» his groggy voice sent shivers down your spine, momentarily distracting you from your thoughts, but you quickly got a hold of yourself.

«I'm too hot. Could you move a bit please?» you asked, getting rewarded with a giggle.

«But of course. You should've said that sooner, dear. Maybe you should also take a shower to cool down? This temperature is very demanding of one's body.»

You looked at him, confused.

«But I had a shower before bed, and besides, I'm not dirty, I don't want to waste water.»

He smiled mischievously, and abruptly changed your positions, pinning you down on the bed.

«Oh, we can change that rather quickly.»

3K notes · View notes

myownwholewildworld · 3 months ago

Text

WHEN THE MOON HOWLS ― a javier peña's autumnal oneshot

main masterlist | read on ao3 | part 2 pairing: javier peña x f!reader. summary: you meet javier in a café during your sabbatical. you see the man that no one does ― the one who is broken, defeated, crushed by his time as a DEA agent. so you make it your purpose to shine some light on his life, one pumpkin spice latte at a time. -or- the story of how you two fall head over heels for each other c: a/n: hiya! been wanting to write for javi p for a while, but was afraid to take the plunge because it's been a hot minute since i last watched narcos. anyways, this fic is for @goodwithcheese and @jolapeno's jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge which i found really inspiring, thank you for hosting this sweet challenge! first time taking part in a challenge too, whoop whoop! as always, all interactions welcome, would love to hear your thoughts. take care! <3 x warnings/tags: 18+, mdni (no smut here, but still). post season 3 of narcos, possibly slightly off-canon? idk. fluff, loads of it! angst, comfort. mentions of ptsd, panic attacks and therapy. halloween/autumnal vibes. trip to the pumpkin patch to cheer our sweet javi up. reader's pov only (v unlike me). no use of y/n. no description of reader (moodboard is only for aesthetic purposes). unbeta'd, soz. w/c: 6.8k (this was gonna be a short drabble... smh) divider by @saradika-graphics

Friday, 18th September 1998

“What can I get for you today, gorgeous?” was your go-to sentence with every client.

Even when your own personal demons stalked you at night, you made your best effort to get out of bed every day and come to work. Working in a café was not in your plans for this year, but a heart-shattering breakup had rocked your world so bad, you needed out.

So, you took a sabbatical from your job in finance, hugged your parents and waved goodbye to your friends. It would only be for one year ― hopefully enough to get your life together and reorganise your priorities.

That was why you moved to Laredo two months ago, to have a fresh start with a blank slate ― where no one knew you and you knew no one. A month into your new life, you realised you needed to do something or otherwise you would go crazy. So you took a waiting job at one of the local cafés. You were just paid the minimum wage, but you had enough savings to live comfortably for a year without any issues.

It was only mid-September ― technically still summer. However, the unusually cold weather made it look otherwise. Fall had appeared sooner this year, and you couldn’t be happier about it. You loved autumn ― its duller hues, the crispy air, the browning leaves, the cozy sweaters, burying yourself under blankets on the couch while channel surfing. It was, by far, your favourite season.

“A pumpkin spice latte, please.” The masculine voice that spoke back to you was plain, deflated ― it lacked… something, but you were not able to pinpoint what exactly.

Your eyes moved from your notebook to the man in front of you, sat at the one of the most isolated tables. A few strands of wavy, brown hair fell across his forehead, the ends caressing the metal frame of the yellow-tinted, aviator sunglasses that shielded his eyes. ‘Brown too,’ you thought. ‘Sad and brown.’

Even if he was not looking at you, you could simply tell. His demeanour, his posture, the way he averted his eyes ― the man spoke of sadness and hurt, of something dark and gut-wrenching you could not even fathom.

And he was alone ― it was obvious he was not waiting on anyone.

“Anything else?” You asked, your throat suddenly dry.

He shook his head no without a word. His hands were placed on top of the table, his fingers intertwined while his thumbs circled each other. It was a restrained yet impatient gesture, as if he could not wait to be left alone.

“Could I interest you in a slice of pumpkin cake? It’s got cream cheese frosting. Shouldn’t say it myself because I baked it, but it’s delicious, I promise.” You tried to tempt him; a soft smile directed at him. “If you don’t like it, it’s on the house.”

The curvature of your lips wavered when his eyes slowly drifted up towards you and locked on yours. They definitely had a sorrowful tint to them ― as if he had seen too much, been witness to too many unspeakable things. His eyes were a window to a crushed soul, that much you could perceive.

His lips formed a flat line as he looked away and through the window to his right.

“Why not then…” His reply was not rude but charged with something unsettling. Something that made you swallow hard.

But you were still smiling back at him. Maybe the guy was having a rough day, a rough week or a rough month. A rough lifetime? Showing him kindness was not going to change his view on the world around him, but if it helped, even a tiny bit, you would smile until the corners of your mouth hurt.

“Alrighty, shouldn’t be long!” You scribbled the command on your notebook, the tip of your tongue unconsciously sticking out between your teeth as you did.

You walked back to behind the counter and when you turned around, you saw the man watching your every move. But as soon as he felt caught, he bowed his head down and looked for something in one of his shirt’s pockets. Soon after that, he lighted a cigarette.

Slightly confused, you faced the coffee maker and looked at the recipe card for the pumpkin spice latte. As you started preparing it, one of your colleagues walked past you.

“Pssst, Alejandra!” You called her in a whisper.

The girl looked around her, unsure if someone had said her name or if it was her imagination playing games.

“Over here”, you waved at her and Alejandra happily trotted towards you.

“Yeah? What’s up? Do you need a hand with that?” She offered her help, as she always did. You were grateful to have such good coworkers in your shift. It was a contrasting experience in comparison to your finance job.

“No, I think I’m okay. Got a question of different nature though,” you ventured pressing your lips together. “The guy over there, sat in the corner…” Alejandra turned her head around to look and stuck her head out, going on her tiptoes and everything. “Hey! Be a bit less obvious, dammit!” You panicked, shaking her forearm as she giggled.

“What about him?” She asked with a cocked brow.

“Who is he? Not seen him before ‘round here.” You tried to sound as casual as possible, but Alejandra’s raised eyebrow told you she was seeing through your bullshit.

“Chucho’s son. Javier.”

“Chucho who?” It seemed like everyone knew everyone in this town, except for you.

“Chucho Peña, he owns a farm on the outskirts of town. That’s his son Javier. He worked for the DEA and has moved back in with his old man a couple of weeks ago. Rumour has it he was fired. Apparently, he was caught doing drugs on the job, can you believe it?” Alejandra didn’t hold back on the gossip. “The same drugs he was confiscating from the narcos, taking them all for himself. Some say he was even selling them back to them and making good profit.”

You knew to take rumours with a very big pinch of salt. Sure, there was corruption in the DEA as in any other governmental organisation, but he did not seem to be that kind of guy. Not that you knew him, anyway.

“Not even his childhood friends are speaking to him now, so if I were you, I’d keep my distance.” She warned you in a hush. “He’s trouble, that dude.”

That broke your heart a little. Javier looked lonely enough ― learning that he was truly on his own resonated loud with you. Being branded a misfit by his own community had to be a hard pill to swallow.

“Mhmm. Sure thing”, was your only reply. Alejandra tilted her head to one side, studying your blank expression. “I was just curious, that’s it.”

“If you say so. But don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Her veiled counsel hung above your head as you resumed the task of preparing his coffee.

Five minutes later you were done and walking back to where Javier was patiently waiting. As you approached his table, a guy pushed back his chair to stand up and hit you hard. You lost your balance, almost tripping with the legs of the chair. Your right hip slammed against the edge of an empty chair and prevented you from falling ― you managed to save the coffee, but the plate with the cake slice slid off your fingers and shattered against the floor.

“Hey! Watch it!”

For a second you thought it was the gentleman reprimanding you, but you quickly recognised the voice ― Javier had stood up, fast as thunder, and his index finger was accusatorily pointing to the man who had mindlessly pushed his chair back.

Before the situation escalated, you straightened out your back and planted a hand on Javier’s forearm to stop him from tackling the guy.

“It’s okay, it’s nothing. I wasn’t looking, it’s my bad.” You quickly tried to diffuse the situation, tension building up between the two men.

“No, it’s not.” Javier replied between gritted teeth. “This asshole should have seen you walking by.”

Your eyes widened as they flew from one man’s face to the other’s. Javier’s outburst was not welcomed by the other guy, who was clenching his fists at his sides. You put the surviving coffee down on a table nearby and placed yourself in the middle of both men, arms extended.

“No need to take this so seriously, it was just a bit of cake, and I’m not hurt.” You said looking at Javier with imploring eyes. You did not need this kind of trouble.

‘He’s trouble’, Alejandra had said. Should you listen?

“Please, accept my apologies.”

“I ain’t paying you shit now, treating one of your regular clients like this.” The man barked back, fuming.

Javier took a step forward and his chest pressed against the palm of your hand. You did not expect to feel his warm skin under yours ― a few unbuttoned buttons on his shirt gave you a peek of his hairy chest.

He clenched his jaw so hard you could see his muscles straining.

“Of course, of course. I’ll pay for it, it’s not a problem.”

Huffing and puffing, the man signalled to his companion and they both walked out the door, mumbling something you couldn’t hear but could imagine.

Slowly you turned to face Javier, whose eyes burnt like gasoline. You didn’t know if he was trouble, but he was definitely danger.

“It’s alright, relax. I’m sorry about the cake, I’ll get you another one. It’s on me, I kinda forced you to buy it.” You offered, thinking he was still mad, while you knelt down to clean the mess with some tissues you had grabbed from the table besides you.

“I’ll pay for it. For both slices.” He replied succinctly, squatting down by your side to help you out.

“You don’t need to”, you quickly said, watching him on the corner of your eye.

His expression softened a bit, and his lips turned into a grimace.

“I do. I think I made things worse for you.” You thought the same but didn’t dare to voice your opinion.

You were customer-facing and could hear your manager in your mind saying ‘The customer is always right. Treat ‘em like royalty’. Bullshit that, really, but was part of the job.

Once the mess was cleared, you gave Javier his coffee and ran back to the counter to cut another slice for him. This time, as you sauntered towards him, you were aware of your surroundings. Luckily, there were no more inconveniences, and the cake slice made it safe and sound to Javier’s table.

“Thanks. And sorry again.” He apologised, his tone throaty with truth. He really meant it.

“Don’t worry about it, honestly.” You grinned at him as you gently squeezed his shoulder without thinking. Javier’s eyes quickly darted down at the touch ― you could swear he flinched. “Oh― S-sorry”, you stammered, pulling your hand back to break contact.

Javier just hmphed and turned his attention to his drink and food.

With your brows knitting together, you made your way back to the counter. From time to time, you would check on him from a distance while serving other patrons. ‘Just making sure he likes it’, you told yourself every time.

After half an hour, Javier got up and walked towards the register.

“How was it?” You asked with a gleaming smile.

“It was good.” Surprisingly, you were slightly disappointed at his lack of enthusiasm. “Really good”, he added a second later, as if he had picked up on your disillusionment.

The smile came back to your mouth.

“Well, I’m glad.” You said while you typed in his order to produce the bill. “It’s $9.42.”

“How much was the… gentleman’s” he spat out the word, “bill? I want to cover it too.”

That offer took you completely off guard, and you started shaking your hands and head at the same time.

“No, no, no. It’s okay, I’ll pay for it. It’s not the end of the world.”

“I insist. Please.” He punctuated every word. “How much was it?”

“Uh, mhmm…” You didn’t want him to take the blow. Maybe he had made the situation worse, but at the end of the day, it was the other guy’s fault, not his. “Are you sure?”

He simply nodded.

“It was $25.37. So the total would be… $34.79.” You composed a pitiful face ― it was a lot of money for a coffee and a cake slice.

Javier handed you a $50 note and then said, “Keep the change.”

With your mouth agape with surprise and not really understanding his generosity, you looked down and extended your hand almost unwillingly.

“But this is a lot…” You started to complain. However, when you looked up at him, you only saw his back.

Javier was already walking out of the café before you could say anything else.

Friday, 25th September 1998

Exactly a week later at ten past five in the afternoon, Javier Peña entered the café you worked at. Your brows furrowed, trying to recall last Friday. Had he gotten there at the same time too? He sat at the same table, same chair as well. The man was a creature of habit, a wild one at that.

Sooner rather than later, you were in front of him, notebook and pencil on hand, with a cheery smile.

“What can I get for you today, gorgeous?” You asked, hoping he would catch the joke ― you also followed a routine.

The joke went over his head. He looked less taciturn than a week before, albeit he still had this aura around him screaming to be left alone. Javier leaned back on his chair and this time, he did make eye contact, unlike last.

A slight yet noticeable change.

“A pumpkin spice latte, please.” This time round, his voice was a bit livelier although still crude.

“Anything else?” Your smile turned crooked as your eyes locked on his.

You saw a sparkle in them, a brightness that flickered under the fluorescent lights of the café. A hint of mischief, you thought too. He definitely had seen the joke now.

“Do you still have pumpkin cake? The one with cream cheese frosting?” He went off script, which made your grin grow bigger.

A creature of habit, but adaptable.

You nodded, writing the order down ― your tongue peeking through your teeth in full concentration.

“Freshly baked, I did it this morning.”

“If it’s half as good as last week’s, I might have to start coming over every Friday then.” A lopsided grin fought its way to his lips, although it didn’t stay there for long.

That brief gesture had transformed his expression, softening the hard edges of his jaw and smoothing out the wrinkles around his covered eyes. You noticed he still had his aviator glasses on, even though it was cloudy outside.

You were not prepared for his compliment, so you just tittered.

“If that’s the case, I’ll make sure to bake one every Friday as to not disappoint you”, you replied jokingly, albeit you truly considered it.

The shadow of a grimace danced on Javier’s mouth. The beginning of another smile, perhaps. Could you be so lucky that he would gift you with two grins in a row? That would be unheard of.

It wasn’t like you were watching him, but you were. Just a few glances here and there though, nothing too obvious. You did not believe in such things, but it seemed like his demons were following him wherever he went. Whatever darkness accompanied him, had a tight grip on him. You wondered what had happened to Javier to give off such an uneasy feeling.

The man was the epitome of wariness ― always looking above his shoulders, his hand tightly latching on to the buckle of his belt. Javier Peña looked like a man who always had a foot in the door, ready to run at the slightest inconvenience. And just because of that, you should be chary, keeping your distance. But it was exactly that, his raw loneliness, what pulled you into his orbit.

You were a fixer, and Javier was broken.

You were a puzzler, and Javier was a puzzle someone had tossed aside ― all the little pieces spread in disarray, unclassified, waiting to be put back together.

Question was, could he be fixed or was he shattered beyond repair?

Friday, 2nd October 1998

“Let me guess. One pumpkin spice latte and a slice of pumpkin cake?”

Javier’s sunglasses reflected the light off the ceiling, his eyes catching a sliver of it. His fingers drummed against the table, his pearly white teeth peeking through the brief smile his lips composed just for you.

“It’s almost like you already know me”, he jested, flattening the palm of his hand against the table and sliding it off until his fingers wrapped around the edge.

That simple motion had you in a trance for a second, your mind blank.

“I do know a few things about you.” It slipped off your tongue before you could refrain yourself.

Once you realised what you had just said, your eyes slightly widened, and you unconsciously chewed your bottom lip.

“Do you?” Javier tilted his head to one side, his kempt moustache wrinkling with curiosity.

You nodded slowly and he cocked a brow, enticing you to continue.

“I’ve noticed you like a routine, always showing up at the same time, ordering the same thing, sitting on the same table, the same chair. And I know you love fall, because why would you be ordering a pumpkin spice latte every Friday since mid-September? With two sugar cubes. And when you attack the cake, you first eat the frosting, then the rest. That’s weird.”

You could have left it there so you wouldn’t sound like a stalker, but once you started talking, you could not stop.

“I know you feel like something, or someone, is following you. I know you always keep an eye on the door, making sure the exit is clear. I know you never turn your back to it either ― and that’s probably why you are, many a times, reaching for a gun in your belt that is no longer there. I know that you are lonely, but that loneliness is self-imposed. I know you don’t like being touched.”

You had definitely paid Javier Peña too much attention. Your last words did not really sink in until Javier’s amused expression transformed into knitting brows and a fine line for lips.

Had you gone too far in your analysis? Why would you say all those things to a complete stranger? When your slip of tongue dawned on you, you covered your mouth, embarrassed of yourself.

“Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to… I just― I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t know why―” Your words came out in a slurred rush, incoherent and unfinished sentences got stuck to the back of your throat through all that stammering.

He leaned back, his arm loosely draped around the empty chair to his right, near the window. Javier then clicked his tongue.

“Well, I had it coming. I did ask, didn’t I?” His reaction surprised you ― you really thought he was going to up and leave because of your insolence.

You let go a sigh of relief, followed by a nervous chuckle as you hugged the notebook close to your chest.

“Was I… too far off?” You ventured, biting down your bottom lip again. Maybe you shouldn’t push your luck.

Javier took a long minute to respond, his eyes scanning every square inch on your face, as if he was trying to assess whether he could confide in you or not. You found yourself hoping he did.

“No, not really.” He conceded, “I do love fall.”

That hint of mischief you saw a week ago twinkled in his eyes again. Under that sombre and stay-away-from-me bearing, there was another Javier. One who could be mischievous and fun. One that you had been itching to know since he first set foot on the café.

This time was your turn to slant your head to one side, crinkling your lips as you attempted to discern if you were wrong about the rest. Was he playing with you?

“And the rest?” You pushed out of curiosity, knowing full well you shouldn’t take such liberty.

Javier shrugged, his shoulders almost touching his ears. Was he trying to hide a smile?

“I do have one more thing to add to my order.” The change of subject told you he did not trust you that much.

A pinch of disappointment settled in your chest. But you knew you shouldn’t feel this way, you didn’t really know him. For all you knew, he could be a serial killer on the lookout for his next victim and being a DEA agent was just a cover.

“Oh, yes, sorry. What else would you like?” You concocted a smile, but this time it felt forced ― too tense on the corners of your mouth.

Your sight was fixed on your notepad, not daring to glance down at him again. If you had, you would have seen his look of confusion. But you didn’t.

“Another pumpkin spice latte.”

You could not hide your surprise, so inevitably you asked, “Are you waiting for someone today?”

As soon as that question abandoned your mouth, you wished it back, mortified at your audacity. It was none of your business. And you didn’t care. Of course you didn’t.

“Yeah, you. You finish your shift in” he looked at his wristwatch, “fifteen minutes, right?”

You were left gobsmacked. Of all the things you had imagined he would say, that would not be an option at all.

“Uh― Ah, y-yeah?”

“See, you’re not the only one who is observant ‘round here. I do know pumpkin spice latte is your favourite drink too.” Javier explained so matter-of-factly, it would have been impossible to correct him. And he was right, anyway. “So, what do you say?”

You had not really given him an answer and he was obviously waiting.

“Yeah. Yes, of course.” You repeated yourself, a wide smile smoothing out your lips, your cheeks slightly blushed. “I’d like that.”

Friday, 30th October 1998

Every Friday for the last four weeks had been exactly the same, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Come ten past five, Javier would walk in through the door and sit down on the same table after his therapy session just a few blocks away. You would happily trot towards him, notebook on hand ― just a pleasantry, considering you knew his order by heart: two pumpkin spice lattes, one slice of pumpkin cake, two spoons. In fact, you had it written down before you reached him.

And then, every Friday, he would wait for the clock to mark half past five, coffee almost untouched and the cake slice still pristine on the plate. You would tell your teammates that you would be closing down and that they were free to go. You would rush through your tasks to get everything done before the clock read forty past five. A minute later the “Closed” sign would be hanging on the front door.

And then you would sit down with Javier, both lazily sipping away at your coffees and nibbling at the cake, while you shared your hopes, your fears, your ambitions, your struggles, your likes and dislikes, your pasts. His heavily charged with trauma and anguish, yours full of heartbreak and regrets.

You had learnt all about his time in Colombia ― the rise of the Medellin cartel, the fall of Pablo Escobar, the peak of the Cali cartel and the corruption deeply embedded in the Colombian government. And how it all shaped who he was now, how it all shattered him and his view of the world. All the things he had seen that still haunted him to this day, and how badly he wanted it all to go away. How gruesomely tortured he was by it all.

He had split himself open in front of you over the course of the last month, pouring his soul out while trying to detangle the mess his mind was in. And you could not help but feel for him, cry for and with him. His words had reached further down inside you than you were really aware of.

And while he was getting professional help for his PTSD, you liked to think that your long, deep conversations helped him interiorise part of the trauma, come to terms with it as much as he could. He had not said it out loud, not really thanked you either, but he didn’t need to ― you just knew.

You could not have refrained yourself from loving him even if you had tried. Over the course of the last few weeks, you had fallen for him with every detail you discovered about him. But your friendship had developed so quickly and so profoundly, you were afraid of ruining it. Ruining the only real connection you had felt in a long time.

It felt like the moment for love confessions was long gone ― it had slipped through your fingers without you even realising. And now it was too late to change it. Perhaps it was better this way ― you treasured Javier’s friendship more than anything else. You would not bargain with it, not if it meant there was a teeny tiny chance of losing him. You were not a gambler, not with the people you loved.

“I think you should pick up a camera again, see how it feels. Ignore what your parents have always told you for a moment. You don’t have to make a decision now, or ever, really.” Javier encouraged you, his palm flat against the surface, extended towards you, resting halfway through the table.

How badly you wanted to reach for him, to caress the back of his hand with your fingertips. But you didn’t.

“You’re right. It’s all I always wanted to do for a living. My job in finance, it was just their idea, really. They kept telling me that I’d die penniless on the side of a road if I chose photography as my career path.” You sighed, the spice of your coffee filling your sense of smell as you tipped the cup to your lips. “Do you have any plans for tomorrow?” You asked, an idea forming in your mind.

“No, I was just gonna help my dad on the farm.” Javier replied, a certain interest tinging his voice as he tilted his head ― his chocolate eyes holding your gaze as if it was a staring contest.

You had never met him outside the café, but you were friends. Surely there was nothing weird about meeting up with him tomorrow.

“Well, I was just thinkin’. Brought my camera and equipment when I moved. Tomorrow’s Halloween, could go to the pumpkin patch outside of town to take some pictures. I love taking pictures on fall, the colours are just beautiful. Would you want to join me?” A shy smile hovered over your lips, your heart slightly racing.

Javier’s eyes lingered on your face for an eternal second before he sipped at his coffee. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked ― you knew he didn’t feel comfortable with open spaces, not yet. He had told you about his panic attacks when he returned home and found himself in the open, exposed.

Suddenly, you felt so damn insensitive.

“Sorry, I know y―”

“I’d like that”, he cut you off before you could take the offer back.

Inevitably, your heart swelled, warmth pouring all over your body with his acceptance.

Saturday, 31st October 1998

The car’s door slammed behind you after you rummaged through the backseat to get your backpack. It was full to the brim, as you had taken a few of your lenses, a tripod, a flash you were positive you wouldn’t need, and a few other bits and bobs.

“Sorry!” You apologised as your head buried between your shoulders.

God forbid you made a dent on Javier’s sparkling new Toyota Camry. Well, you didn’t know if it was new, but the car was impeccable inside and out. You were relieved he had offered to pick you up, otherwise he would definitely have judged you for the state your car was in.

“‘S alright.” He muttered, but on the corner of your eye you saw him smoothing out his hand around the edge of the door, ensuring you had not damaged it. “What are you carrying there anyway? Looks like you’re goin’ campin’, pequeña (little one).”

You snickered, Javier by your side in the blink of an eye. So close you could almost feel the warmth he irradiated, even in the crispy, spooky air.

“Oh, ‘s nothing, just a few things here and there that I hope to use later. Might need your help though.” You looked at him askance, measuring his reaction to your petition.

“My help? Mhmm.” He mumbled, almost laconic.

“It’s not too bad. And your aviator sunglasses will come in handy.” You laughed at the confused expression in front of you. “I’m not spoiling it.”

Javier’s lopsided smile made a brief appearance, but it suddenly vanished.

A backfiring noise from an exhaust pipe a few yards away made him flinch, his whole body visibly tautened ― his posture went rigid, his eyes frantically searching his surroundings while his right hand flew to his belt in a vain attempt to grip a gun that wasn’t there.

And then you saw the panic building up in his shielded irises. Even through the yellow tint you watched them darken, so opaque his pupils were indistinguishable from the brown. You could swear he had stopped breathing too, because his chest had not budged one inch.

Quickly you realised what was happening ― the sound from the car nearby had triggered Javier, bringing him back to one of his nightmares. His fight-or-flight response was taking over him, his mind suddenly replaying his time back in Colombia.

When you wrapped your firm hand around his wrist, you could feel his wild pulse under your fingertips ― his heart was beating so hard, it seemed like it was looking for the way out of his torso.

“Javier,” you called his name, giving him a gentle squeeze. He did not respond. “Javi”, you raised your voice over the cacophony on the background, your fingers tighter around his wrist, jerking him close to you.

Slowly he turned to look at you, long eyelashes fluttering, and it took him a moment to gradually come out of his daze.

With your free hand you rubbed his left shoulder, the first time you had been this nigh.

“Hey, Javi, are you okay?” You whispered, his eyes slowly drifting down to your mouth, as he was trying to read your lips rather than listening to your words. “It’s okay, you’re back home. You’re safe. You’re here with me, in a pumpkin patch just outside of Laredo. You’re safe, Javi.” You reassured him in a low voice, the abbreviated version of his name falling from your lips like honey.

You hadn’t realised how scared you were for him until he finally breathed. So did you. Your heart was pounding. Then he nodded, and you thought you saw a sliver of embarrassment in his eyes.

You wanted to comfort him so bad, tell him it was fine to be vulnerable ― but words escaped you, your chest heavy with affliction. The only thing you could do was wrapping your arms around his neck and bring him in for a hug. It only took him a second to swathe your waist, his face partially buried in the crook of your neck.

A shivering sensation down your spine gave you goosebumps. It felt so good having him this close.

“I’m fine.” He hummed eventually, as you both took an unwilling step back.

“I’m sorry. Truly. If you think this is a bad idea, we can just go back.”

He shook his head no.

“No, it’s alright. Gotta push through it at some point. Rather do it with you than alone.” Your heart melted at his words, almost swooning for him.

A soft smile spread across your lips, palming his forearm again. You could not have enough of his touch, of how his skin felt under yours.

“But if at any point it gets to be too much, you’ll let me know. Promise?”

You stuck your pinky out in front of him, asking him to pinky promise he would.

He returned your smile with a devastating one of his own.

“Promise”, was his reply as his pinky wrapped around yours.

Then you both erupted in laughter.

For the next two hours you walked the whole patch together, taking as many pictures as your camera rolls would allow you. Luckily you brought more than one ― knowing yourself too well, you had brought three rolls.

“Hey, Javi! The golden hour is approachin’!”, you shouted at him, amplifying the volume of your voice by placing one hand on the side of your mouth.

Javier’s head poked out in between a humongous pile of an assortment of pumpkins. He went around it to be by your side in a couple of long strides.

“Is this where my aviator glasses come in handy?” He asked with a smidgen of inquisitiveness.

“Spot on. Come, follow me.” You curled your fingers to emphasize your words and you started walking towards a field further ahead.

It was isolated, the yellow grass up to knee height. There were some dead trees around, black branches peppered around the floor. Reaching towards your back, you untied the tripod from the side and set it up, taking your time, while Javi was right behind you.

“So you’re taking pictures of an empty field?” He asked, befuddled.

You just giggled as you knelt and settled your backpack down on the floor. Unzipped it and jumbled stuff around until you found what you were looking for. Snapping your tongue with delight, you pulled out two white bedsheets and a sunglasses case.

“Ha! Here they are!” You enthusiastically presented the objects to a confused Javi, his hands scrunching one of the bedsheets as you handed it to him.

“I don’t get it. You want me to make a bed out in the wilderness or somethin’?”

Shaking your head no, you laughed at his perplexity.

“No, you silly. We’re going to put them over our heads so we look like ghosts, like so.” And then you proceeded to demonstrate, covering yourself with the bedsheet.

Almost blindly, you took your sunglasses out of their case and placed them on the bridge of your nose and over the bedsheet.

“Voilà!” You extended your arms, showcasing your masterpiece to Javier.

You could barely see him through the linen, but his laughter reached your ears. You couldn’t help but smile wide as you grabbed one of the sides and pulled it up to uncover your face.

“I want you to do the same. I’ll set a timer on the camera, and we run over there.” You pointed to a space between some fallen trunks. “And then we just do some silly poses.”

“…Okay?” The hesitation in his voice was faked, because you could see a grin pinching the corners of his mouth.

“Trust me, it’ll look great. I’m a visionnaire!” You said with confidence as you turned around and set the timer. “Go, come on, run!”

You both sprinted to the specific spot you had directed your camera at, and quickly covered yourselves with the bedsheets. Laughing out loud, you both put the sunglasses over your faces and started posing while the camera clicked away at timed intervals.

Back to back with arms folded; one sitting down on the trunk while the other stood up behind; both hiding behind some dead trees with your heads sticking out; just staying still and very straight looking at the lens.

Even Javi got into it by the end, suggesting a few poses of his own occurrence.

You both were having so much fun, cackling so loud, you had tears pouring over your waterlines. You even bent at your waist, hands against your knees, while you tried to catch a breath. Javi was by your side chortling like a kid without a worry in the world.

You pulled the sheet off you and Javi followed suit. You could tell he also had teared up and that tugged at your heart.

“I wish we could see them now, but we’ll have to wait until I develop them.”

You stepped forward to get to the camera, but you tripped with the bedsheet. Clumsy as always, you waved your arms in a vain attempt to regain balance, and failed ― the grass on the ground hurrying towards your face, or, well― quite the opposite.

When you thought you were going to hit the floor, Javi’s broad hand clasped around your elbow and pushed you up, until your chest flushed with his. His mouth was so close to yours, his lips agape and so inviting, you licked your bottom one as you gauged the situation.

“You okay, pequeña?” His voice was just a hush in the confines of your mind.

Unable to speak due to his proximity, you just nodded as your eyes locked on his. This time there were no sunglasses covering his beautiful orbs ― giving you the opportunity to look into the abyss. His abyss. One you had been wanting to jump into for as long as you had known him.

His free hand rested on the small of your back, pressing you into him while his lips were dangerously close to yours. You could smell the hints of tobacco, the old spice, the sandalwood, all of it hijacking your senses.

Something passed between you two. Something that had been there for a while now; something you had not allowed yourself to see.

Too scared to ruin the friendship you so much cherished. Too frightened to have your heart broken again. Too afraid to make a move and be rejected.

But you didn’t need to.

Javier did.

In slow motion, he bowed his head down until his soft, warm lips ghosted yours. A light caress that made your heart jump a beat. And then he pressed them sweetly against your parted mouth, his tongue testing the waters between your teeth as you let him in.

Draping your arms around his neck, you kissed him fondly, tenderly, with all the love you had been stockpiling for a while. With his hands now on your hips, his thumbs gently rubbed the skin under your tee shirt, while your fingers raked through his hair.

And then, in the background, a clicking sound, then a flash. The kiss came to an end, not without Javi leaving a few chaste pecks on your lips before your mouths untangled.

You pressed your right cheek on his chest, eyeing the camera, and chuckled.

“It’s been taking pictures the whole time.” You told him, looking up at him with your chin against his sternum.

“Good. I’d like to have a memento of this moment, pequeña”, Javi cooed as he leaned back down to press another kiss.

“That makes two of us.” You purred, smiling into his mouth before his tongue sought yours again.

The distant howl of a wolf breached the haziness of the kiss and interrupted you. Only then, you realised that the sun had set down a while ago, and a red moon dominated the sky. The atmosphere was rather eerie, almost spooky.

“There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.” You quoted a sentence you had read once. “So maybe the moon has howled, and not a wolf?” That was your attempt at staying here, in your perfect, tiny bubble, a little bit longer.

Javi smiled, brushing his lips against yours.

“I rather not find out. Let’s head back, pequeña.”

He grabbed your hand, your fingers laced together, and pulled you towards the camera, him walking one step ahead of you.

One last click captured the final moment as you both sauntered towards it, hands intertwined, and Javi looking over his shoulder right at you.

218 notes · View notes

boohorns1136439 · 2 months ago

Text

Learning to belong ~ poly!MHA x fem!Reader (02)

Already? I know, right. I don’t know what’s happening to me right now, but let’s hope it lasts. I never knew it would be so fun to write, clearly not the same high as reading a great book or fic, but pretty close. This is slightly longer than the first chapter.

01 <- 02 -> 03

Masterlist

Taglist

Warning: cursing, nsfw (but like you should expect it), a little smutty but nothing too explicit

tags: aged-up characters ; Pack! Izuku Midoriya X Bakugo Katsuki X Shoto Todoroki X Kirishima Eijirou ; Omega!Izuku Midoriya ; Omega!Bakugo Katsuki ; Omega!Shoto Todoroki ; Omega!Kirishima Eijirou ; technically Beta!Reader ; afab!Reader ; modern Au ; post-UA ; Reader has a quirk ; non hero!Reader ; eventually smut ; bisexual!Reader

A chilling sweetness was the first thing your nose picked up. The longer the scent wrapped itself around you, the more you recognized the undeniably sweet, tangy, and fresh aroma of ripe berries. The crispness of the scent left you wondering if the berries were slightly frozen, adding a refreshing and pleasant coldness. You couldn’t quite tell which berries they were—blueberries, raspberries, maybe even strawberries? It didn’t matter, because the blended scent left you craving a taste. You could almost picture a glass bowl full of ripe berries, your hand reaching in to devour the sweet treat.

Your body didn’t quite know how to handle it, instinctively tensing against the overwhelming sensation. You felt an involuntary shiver run down your spine as the sweetness invaded your senses, leaving you both mesmerized and disoriented. It consumed you, making your pulse quicken as your senses struggled to process it. Your head felt light, almost dizzy, like the ground beneath you had shifted. Just when you thought you might find yours footing, the coldness of the berries began to melt away, and the scent transformed—richer, warmer, sweeter. Honey.

You could smell honey now, hot and thick, being poured over the berries. The heat of the honey mixed with the berries was almost too much. Your pulse escalated, racing out of control, and every breath you took only pulled more of the intoxicating scent into your lungs. It flooded your mind, clouding your thoughts. The hot honey turned the berries into a syrupy, luscious jam, and you could practically taste it, the sweetness lingering on your lips. Your entire body tingled, unable to escape the pull of the scent.

The culprit behind the scent was obviously Todoroki. In the back of your mind, you could hear a little voice—your inner doctor—saying he was showing signs of entering his heat. But it was still confusing because you had never smelled anyone’s scent, heat or no heat, this strongly before. It had never affected you this much. Usually, you could only pick up faint hints of sweetness or sourness from others, but this... this was different. You had never been able to distinguish someone’s scent this clearly before, but with Todoroki, you could name it exactly—frosted berries and honey. Not only that, but the way your whole body tingled just from smelling it was entirely new. It was overwhelming, all-consuming. And from the way Todoroki was looking at you, eyes dark with a knowing smile, and how his scent spiked in response, you knew he noticed how deeply his scent affected you too.

"Alpha... you’ll take care of me, won’t you?" His voice had dropped lower, breathless, tinged with desperation but still confident, as if he was sure you would give him everything he wanted. As if the two of you weren’t practically strangers, as if the sterile hospital room around you didn’t exist, as if everything he was thinking about wasn’t entirely inappropriate. Embarrassingly, it wasn’t just him. You were really really trying to not focus on how your thoughts were heading down the same dangerous path.

“Todoroki, it seems you’ve entered your heat. Don’t worry, we’ll prescribe you some medication to help manage it until you can be released home.” You tried to force professionalism back into your voice, but the way his eyes, once filled with raw desire, narrowed at you with disapproval made your heart stutter. His eyebrows furrowed, and his lips parted in something close to frustration.

“I don’t want medicine, Alpha. I want you,” he rasped, his voice breaking slightly. His hand shot out, more desperate now, as if he couldn’t bear the distance between you. Before you could react, he grabbed your hand, and you were too startled—too affected by the intensity of his words—to pull away. With a shaky breath, he pressed your hand against his cheek, closing his eyes and sighing deeply, almost in relief.

He didn’t stop there. He nuzzled your hand, the gesture so gentle, like he was seeking comfort and your touch was the only thing that could soothe him in that moment. It was adorable in a strange, needy way—like a cat demanding affection. But there was an underlying desperation in the way he leaned into you, and the way he pressed into your palm made you feel how badly he needed it. The innocence of the gesture was overshadowed by the unmistakable tension in the air. He was scenting you, while the overwhelming sweetness of his scent was making you clenched your thighs tightly together as a wave of heat washed over you.

Todoroki hadn’t forgotten his own wanted. His lips pressed eagerly against the palm of your hand, each kiss slower, more intense than the last. Instinctively, you tried to pull away, a small yelp escaping your lips, but his grip tightened. His eyes opened, locking onto yours, annoyed with your actions.

His grip on your wrist was bruising, a stark contrast to the frantic, needy kisses he pressed against your hand. His body trembled, grinding desperately —Oh God— against the blanket resting on his laps, frantically looking for any relief. Kissing your hands weren’t enough to calm him. He guided your hand to his neck, forcing your fingers to press against his scent gland, but that didn’t satisfy him either. His breath hitched as he moved your hand lower, dragging its down his chest. When your finger brushed over his nipple, a high, strained moan slipped from his lips. His hips jerked upward, aching for friction, anything to break the suffocating need building within him. His body was on the edge, desperate for release, and craving more.

You felt feverish, trapped by his grip. The warmth of his skin seeped through his shirt, so hot it was burning you in the most delicious way. When your eyes met his, the smile he gave you was ravaging, and you felt yourself leaning closer into his warmth. He seemed to have the same idea, trying to close the distance between you. Your lips are now within reach for his—lips that had been tempting him for what felt like an eternity.

His hands eagerly moved yours, guiding them to the place he needed you the most while his legs was spreading in impatience. His mind was too clouded with desire to even consider removing his clothes, despite how uncomfortable they felt against his skin. As your faces drew closer, he whispered a soft "alpha," and breathed a warm laugh brushing against your lips as his eyes fluttered shut, ready to claim yours.

You felt it before you saw it. The loud crash of the door slamming open, hands seizing your collar and yanking you off the ground with brutal force. Your head slammed into the wall, a vicious crack of pain exploding through your skull. Even through the blinding haze of disorientation and the tears stinging your eyes, one thing stood out—red. Red eyes, blazing with fury and barely-contained rage.

"What the fuck are you doing to him?"

Alright, this one’s finally done! Did you like it? I hesitated for a while about ending the chapter with “You felt it before you saw it.” Like, setting up people to expect smut in the next chapter, then plot twist: “I lied, put your clothes back on, someone’s trying to beat your ass.”

But I feel like, since I’m still at the beginning of my fic, I shouldn’t do that. I need to make y’all want to come back, so I figured not revealing who the angry person was at the end would be better (especially since I haven’t even started working on the next chapter yet).

Have you noticed? I always try to end the chapter with a little cliffhanger, so y’all get curious about what might happen next. Also, I was considering changing the reader to gn!reader so it would be more inclusive but I wasn’t sure about it.

For those who asked me to tag them, tell me if this works. I have never created a tag list before so I am not sure.

This is a long ass note, way too long. None is reading all of that 😭

As always, I am open to criticism.

Big thank you to @cafekitsune who made the beautiful dividers

01 <- 02 -> 03

Taglist

168 notes · View notes

iimplicitt · 3 months ago

Text

I WAS ALL OVER HER PT.2 — O.P.

pairings: oscar piastri x reader (romantic/platonic) | lando norris x reader (romantic)

part two of three, link to part one here

summary: lando and y/n relationship is on the rocks. y/n either makes the worst or best decision of her life. oscar is losing it and has a secret habit of street racing? (listen to empathy while he races).

warnings: pining, missed opportunities, cheating (mentioned), cheating towards the end, 18+ smut, jealous!oscar, toxic!lando, mirror sex, fingering + oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex sorta (stay safe), technically a HEA for oscar x yn? bumpy road to get there, though.

word count: 4.9k

dedicated to: @theonottsbxtch

authors note: this in no way speaks on my opinion of lando and what his personality may be like, i love him this is purely for the plot <3

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

You stood in the doorway of Lando’s bedroom in his flat in Monaco, sighing as he went through your phone. His eyes scrunched and a scowl on his lips as he held up the phone for you to see. “Who the hell is that?”

Narrowing your eyes to look, it was another comment some stranger left underneath one of your posts, calling you beautiful. The issue, to Lando at least, was that the stranger was a guy. “I don’t know.”

Lando scoffed and pulled your phone back towards him. “Yeah well, he’s also in your DM’s.”

You tried not to roll your eyes, knowing that would only annoy him further. He was weirdly obsessed with any male attention you received, not that you ever entertained it but he always made it seem like you were the one doing something. “And how many girls are in your comments and your DM’s? It’s not like I ever reply, unlike you.”

It wouldn’t have bothered you otherwise, even with Oscar and all the girls reaching out to him it never bothered you, you knew that’s simply how it was with fame. But the fact Lando would actually reply to them made you uncomfortable. He didn’t seem to care as he waved you off again. “I’m just engaging with my fans, what excuse do you have?”

You baulked at him. “I don’t talk to them.”

“I’m sure you just deleted the chats.” He practically threw your phone at you before turning around to go back to his game.

You wished you could say this was the first and last time you had this conversation with him, but it was beginning to feel like a weekly occurrence. You didn’t understand, he even had the audacity to flirt with girls in front of you but would say he was just being friendly. And who were you to question him, anyway?

You felt lost, lonely. Thrown into the world of dating a celebrity who gave no reassurance and it was like everyone you cared about suddenly wasn’t available to talk anymore. Either because of time zones, work, et cetera. And Oscar… you had always felt like he was someone to lean on without feeling like a burden but even now he felt like a stranger.

Events were beyond awkward, he’d mutter a hello before practically running away from you. Anytime you tried to talk to him, there was an excuse to leave. Your daily texts came to a halt besides a Happy Birthday message and a bouquet of flowers that Lando had thrown away before you even had a chance to hold them.

You’d still sometimes catch him staring at you though, and it kept a little flame of hope alive in your heart that he didn’t hate you. That your friendship maybe was salvageable, it just needed time.

At a club following a relatively successful qualifying for McLaren one night, you had just walked away from the bar with a new drink and weaved between the crowd of people. You weren’t sure where Lando was, and part of you said you probably didn’t want to know. Worrying about all the what if’s was going to kill you. Taking a sip of your drink, you decided you wanted a bit of fresh air and moved towards the large balcony the club had. It was still crowded, but not nearly as much and you found a seat at an empty table.

You mostly people-watched for a while, letting the alcohol create a comforting blanket over your nerves when someone sat down across from you.

Oscar was looking at you, eyes a bit bloodshot and his hair a mess as he held a glass of what might’ve been whiskey. Your shock made you sit there stupidly for a moment and stare at him. Surprised he made the first move to initiate some sort of interaction, anxious to talk to him, angry he had been avoiding you, and mad at yourself for not trying harder to fix things.

“Hi.” He said, his voice a bit rough around the edges.

Apparently words were lost on you as you continued to stare at him.

He sighed, his breath shaking as he messed with his glass tumbler. “Are you happy?”

Pursing your lips, you finally pulled your eyes away from him to look at the city skyline. “You’re drunk.”

“You’re not answering.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you, Oscar.” Not when he was intoxicated, at least.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Please, I need to- are you happy?”

Dammit, your eyes began to water. Why was he always able to pull such reactions out of you so easily? “You don’t always have to try and save me, Oscar. I’m a grown woman.”

“The most remarkable people in the world still might want help sometimes.”

You looked away from him, biting at the inside of your cheek in a weak attempt to keep your breathing even and wiped a tear away. You missed him, you really did. And maybe this rift was your own doing. You knew you couldn’t blame yourself for Lando’s behaviour but sometimes it felt like everything would’ve been easier, better for Oscar, if you weren’t in the picture. If you had just stayed home and not agreed to come to that first race last season.

Standing up, you offered a tense smile. “I’ll see you at the race tomorrow.” And you walked away.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Oscar had never truly hated anyone before, but with each passing day he came dangerously close to yanking Lando by the collar of his shirt and punching him. The way his teammate so blatantly flirted with other girls while doing media events was beginning to lose its shock value on Oscar, but his anger just kept reaching a boiling point. Maybe he needed to be more level headed and mature about the whole situation, but knowing how much Lando was disrespecting you started to affect how Oscar raced. It wasn’t a hindrance by any means, but people were starting to notice how much more aggressive he was being on track.

A few days before a race weekend, teams were allowed to go out and walk the track to get a feel for it. Which was necessary on all accounts because the upcoming circuit had recently been resurfaced. Oscar had his hands in his pockets as he walked, paying close attention to the curves and the changes in elevation when a familiar waft of perfume caught his attention. It took him off guard, not expecting to find you out here but there you were, walking with Charles’ girlfriend Alex, who was taking their dog Leo for a stroll.

Your eyes immediately caught his, muttering something to Alex before heading in his direction.

He stood there like a deer caught in headlights as you approached, messing with your nails nervously the closer you got. Finally, stopping a few feet away you gave him a small smile. In an instant it was like all the ice that had built up over his heart the past few months began to melt.

“Walk with me?” You offered, extending an olive branch and he nodded, letting a small smile tug at his own lips as he began to walk again, you by his side.

It was quiet for a little while, the air a bit tense but nowhere near what it had been lately.

“I still don’t understand how you aren’t scared shitless when you get in those cars. The turns are so sharp and you come at them so quickly.” You muttered, gnawing at your lip and he couldn’t help but stare at the soft look of them before he forced himself to look away.

“Over time the fear goes away. There’s a thrill to it, I think. An adrenaline rush. Corners are the best part sometimes.” He offered, looking at you again only to find you already staring at him.

“Is that why you hold on to the door handle for dear life when I drive? For the thrill of it?” You joked and he found himself laughing, forgetting how easy it was.

“I think that’s my body going into fight or flight mode when you’re behind the wheel.”

You shoved him playfully, shaking your head with a grin on your face. The brief physical contact made his head spin and butterflies erupt in his stomach. He desperately wanted to touch you, hug you, something… he didn’t know. “I miss you. This.” The words were out before he could think more on it but he didn’t regret them either.

Coming to a stop in front of Oscar’s garage, you looked up at him and smiled softly. “Me too.”

Your eyes locked onto his, feeling like the world had stopped spinning and it was just the pair of you. Oscar didn’t have to think about anything else as you stood there in front of him. His best friend and the girl he knew had his heart. Slowly, he lifted his hand as your hair got tossed around by the breeze and he brushed it away from your eyes. Taking in the soft feel of your skin and an electric shock went from his fingertips and tore apart each of his nerves.

Pulling away, you turned to go meet your boyfriend and the world started to move again.

He flipped over in his hotel bed, one arm wrapped around your waist as the other found leverage on the mattress. Your soft and shaky breath sent shivers down his body, feeling your soft skin slide against his as he moved down the bed.

“Oscar,” you whimpered out, hands tugging at his hair as desperation began to control your movements. You were so beautiful, no matter where or how he saw you. But there was something akin to holiness as he looked at you spread out on his sheets beneath him. Naked and wanting. Wanting him.

“Relax for me, angel.” He pressed a kiss to your hip before moving down, licking a long stripe up your wet—

He shot up, sweat drenching his skin and a painful erection showing a tent in his sheets. Oscar groaned as reality caught up with him, pressing his palms into his eyes. “What is wrong with me?” He whispered to his empty hotel room, still wishing you could somehow be there next to him.

The sex dreams had always been a common occurrence the moment he realised he liked you. Years of built up sexual frustration and he always felt guilty about them afterward. You were his best friend yet every other night he fantasised about fucking you. The dreams never stopped, even when you were in a relationship. Even when he was in one.

His hands dropped as he stared out the window, depressed and frustrated. “I am awful,” he muttered. But Oscar knew he’d have one again. Part of him didn’t want them to stop, and he’d tell himself he could live with the guilt.

Later that day, maybe it was the lack of sleep or the constant pain of knowing you were with Lando, but when he caught his teammate slipping a girl his number he snapped.

Once they rounded a corner and no one was around, Oscar grabbed onto his shirt and slammed him into the wall, pinning him there with an arm against Lando’s chest. “You are such a joke.” He bit out.

Lando blinked at him in surprise before shaking away his shock, trying to shove Oscar off of him but the Aussie didn’t budge. “What is your problem, mate? Get the hell off me.”

“Does she know you’re out here messing around or do you like rubbing it in her face so blatantly?” Oscar was three seconds away from punching him before Lando shoved him more roughly, finally managing to break free from the wall.

He narrowed his eyes at Oscar before laughing, the sound of it dry and lacking all amusement. “Since when did you start giving a fuck about her again?”

Clenching just jaw, Oscar walked up to his teammate, his own eyes narrowed and his voice low. “Quit playing with her or I’ll run you off the damn track.” With that, he patted Lando’s shoulder once before walking away.

The Dutch Grand Prix was approaching and Oscar felt like he was losing it. You were everywhere. Plaguing his thoughts. In all his dreams. All he could think about. Him and Lando had hit a stand still in their working relationship and the friendship they had built came crumbling down when Oscar realised how much of an arse he truly was to you.

There was a small get together with a decent amount of the drivers and some friends at a townhouse Max had. The grill was now cool from the earlier barbecue and most of the crowd had moved inside as the night air grew chilled and rain was approaching.

Oscar felt suffocated inside the house, though. Everything was too bright and too close. You were everywhere yet nowhere at once and Lando was being a smug bastard, acting like a saint when he was really a devil in disguise. No matter how hard Oscar tried, he couldn’t stop looking at you. Wishing he was Lando and hating himself for it. Wishing he was the one who got to fall asleep next to you at night, knowing he could love you properly. Then Lando disappeared, and so did you and he felt his brain shatter into a million pieces. Knowing it wasn’t him made his chest physically hurt and he stumbled towards the back yard, not being able to breathe until the door was shut behind him and all the voices became muted.

He froze the moment he saw you laying in the grass, staring up at the moon.

“Hey,” you said, hearing his footsteps approach before he laid down next to you. The grass was damp from earlier rain but he didn’t care. You were there next to him, that’s all that mattered.

It was quiet for a while. The only noise was from the house and crickets, sometimes thunder from the distance. His mind was moving quickly, yet sluggishly, and still everything felt strangely clear all the sudden as he star gazed with you.

“Break up with him.”

You were silent, but he heard you take in a sharp breath before you whispered the next word. “What?”

“Break up with him.”

“Oscar—“

Turning to you and perching himself up by his elbow, he continued. “I know I waited too long. I know I didn’t communicate with you. I know I’m an arse for ignoring you. I’m sorry, I am, but— he is horrible to you. You’re not happy, I know you aren’t.”

You looked up at him, still laying down and the moonlight painted a heavenly sight before him as your brows furrowed. “You know it’s not that simple.”

“Why not? I know you don’t love him, and he doesn’t love you—“

You finally sat up, eyes narrowed. “And what? You do? All this time you’ve apparently loved me but would tell me you weren’t interested and would go off dating other girls. What the hell am I supposed to do with that, Oscar?”

He quickly stood up to follow you as you also got up and began to walk away from him.

“Why put yourself through hell for him?” He bit out.

“I have spent years putting myself through hell waiting for you! I can handle him.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle him!”

You whipped around to yell something at him when the back door suddenly opened and Logan stepped out, eyeing the scene wearily. “Am I interrupting something?”

Before Oscar could say anything, you bit out a “Nope,” and stormed past the two drivers, disappearing into the house.

Logan quietly shut the door and raised a brow at Oscar. “Trouble in paradise?”

Oscar fell heavily onto a porch chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Something like that.”

Looking at his friend for a moment, Logan sat down across from him. “You know,” he started, “I’ve known you two for a long time and you’ve always seemed to work something out.”

Sighing, Oscar leaned back in the chair and thought about the last few months. Thought about that fateful night a few years ago. Logan must’ve been thinking about it, too.

“I know how messy it was the first time and how much you beat yourself up over it, but it worked out didn't it?”

“Did it?” Oscar asked. “I feel like we just kept pushing off the inevitable and now it’s blown up in my face.”

“Look, I know it sucked but you did the right thing not getting into a relationship with her back then. That would’ve blown up in your face. But now, man, you have the world at your fingertips.” He paused for a moment and rubbed at his chin. “Why’d you invite her in the first place?”

Oscar frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“Come on. You never invited her to your old races. You knew how busy you’d be once you started in Formula One, you wanted her here.”

He shrugged. “I mean yeah, but—“

“And now Lando is in the way?”

Oscar sighed, “yeah.”

The long time friends looked at each other, not sure whether or not to mention they both knew Lando was cheating on you. Logan caught him with some girl in a hotel bar, Carlos yelled at him a few weeks ago when he caught him with someone, and the list went on.

Oscar had a feeling you knew as well, and he couldn’t wrap his head around why you wouldn’t just leave the bastard.

As if reading his thoughts, Logan spoke again. “She might feel trapped, you know? Despite even the worst circumstances, it’s hard to leave relationships sometimes.”

“When did you get wise?”

Logan laughed and shook his head, standing up to pat his friend on the shoulder. “I always have been. Now, you have two options. One, run after her and try to fix this no matter what or else you’re going to go through the rest of your life wondering what if you had tried harder. Or two, you try to let go of it. Let go of her, and move on.”

Oscar licked at his dry lips and looked down at his hands, noticing the calluses he got from racing. “I can’t forget about her.”

“Then get off your ass and go after her.”

Logan didn’t have to tell him again. He patted the American on the back in thanks and took off into the house, only you were nowhere to be seen.

He caught sight of Charles and pulled him to the side. “Have you seen her?”

His friend looked at him knowingly, the Monegasque had a weird sixth sense on reading people and on more than one occasion he had offered Oscar some friendly advice on the matter of a broken heart. “She left, mate. Not with Lando though, if that helps.”

It did, and if Oscar wasn’t in such a rush he would’ve hugged the man.

He muttered a thanks before grabbing his keys and running out the door. He wasn’t sure where she was, but the first place he would assume is the hotel the McLaren team was staying at.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

You shivered as you walked, your anger at everything beginning to fizzle away. Adrenaline had kept you warm for the most part as you got deeper into the city but now that it was fading you grew a bit nervous. A woman walking alone at night was never the safest or smartest decision.

But you had been so pissed off at Lando and angry that Oscar had been right. Right about everything. Lando was bad news but you were so desperate for attention you let a man start to slowly pick at you in ways he knew would make you crumble. He knew all your insecurities and would point them out to make a statement or if he got bored.

If you would’ve just been smart and waited a bit longer you could’ve been happy with Oscar. But… you had waited for years and you were tired. You knew it wasn’t your fault that he didn’t communicate how he had actually felt about you. That still didn’t solve any of the raging emotions going off inside you.

You heard a car approaching and kept your head down, hoping they would shoot past you. Much to your horror, the car with a strong sounding engine began to slow down. The deep rumble from it made your bones tremble, or maybe that was your fear.

Then a window rolled down and a familiar voice called out. “Get in the car.”

You didn’t know what was wrong with you. You were being irrational, surely. But you kept walking, “go away.”

The car halted to a stop, a door opening and slamming shut and not a moment later Oscar was standing in front of you. Angry. “Get in the fucking car.”

You blinked at him. You knew he swore during races but hardly ever at you. You were about to argue with him, being fueled by pure stubbornness at this point when there was a loud crack of lightning and it began to rain.

“Fine,” you bit out, getting into the expensive car and at that moment you didn’t care if your wet clothes ruined the leather. Oscar didn’t seem to care either as he slammed his door shut.

He started driving once you buckled and you wanted to roll your eyes. He was clearly pissed at you, though you couldn’t fathom why. It wasn’t like you did anything to him. What made it clear he was mad was the increasing speed of the car. He was always careful, always put together. Besides when racing, you weren’t sure you had ever actually seen him speed before.

Although you trusted him with your life, your mouth felt dry as you went around a wide corner, your body being pushed to the side by the force of it. “Oscar—“

“What the hell is wrong with you? Walking out here alone at night in a country you’ve never been in?”

“We both know that’s not why you’re mad right now.”

Oscar laughed, the sound rough on your ears as he whipped around another turn, the tyres losing a bit of traction from the rain but he manoeuvred into a drift and easily corrected the car with a complicated turning of the wheel and doing lord knows what with the gear shift.

This was absolutely not the time to be thinking such things but you couldn’t help but notice how attractive he looked breaking who knows how many traffic laws. Your thoughts only annoyed you though, not understanding why you had to like him. Not understanding why you let yourself get into the current position you were now in. Not understanding why you let Lando treat you like shit.

“So your driving isn’t any better off the track, either.” The cruel words slipped out on their own accord. You didn’t mean it. Maybe it was Lando rubbing off on you, maybe you were just making excuses.

Oscar didn’t say anything, his knuckles turned white on the steering and sped up, going well over the speed limit now and drifting, the back of the car swinging much too close to poles and buildings. It was reckless yet controlled all at once. Maybe this was his outlet. He wasn’t a big drinker, obviously didn’t dabble in drugs, he wasn’t violent, and a Formula One car was worth millions of dollars and too risky to take frustrations out on. Maybe he did this often, maybe that’s why he did it with expert precision as he raced through the streets of Zandvoort.

You didn’t know why, but when police sirens and flashing lights started to follow the car, you laughed. It was strangely liberating, watching Oscar let go of everything for once and for you to let go of fear.

Your eyes met his, red and blue lights gleaming off them and you two shared a smile before he raced off, evading law enforcement with a surprising ease and you wondered what other surprises Oscar still had in store for you after all these years.

He pulled into a dark alleyway between two buildings, quickly shutting the car off and turning out the lights. He lightly placed a hand on your back and pushed you down so you both weren’t in view from the back window. A few seconds later the police whipped by, neither of you moved till the sirens faded.

You were quiet for a minute, the only sound was your heavy breathing mixed with Oscar’s and you could just barely catch the gleam of his eyes in the dark as he looked at you. Sitting up, you messed with the hem of your shirt, a cold wave of reality hitting you. This felt like some sort of event horizon. Whatever happened in this car would determine if and how he’ll be in your life.

“Oscar,” you started quietly. He sat up as well, looking at you in the dark and hummed, patient. “Please tell me this all isn’t because I’m now something you feel like you can’t have.” The words were out, one of your biggest fears. Insecurities. Terrified he was only interested because suddenly you weren’t an option anymore. An option he’d always had.

“Angel, there was never anyone else.” His voice was so quiet you barely heard him, or maybe your heart was beating too loudly over his words. “I’m done for.”

You sucked in a breath, forgetting how to breathe as you looked at him. Your best friend. The man you’ve been in love with for years. The way he was looking at you, it wasn’t any different than how he usually did. You had just apparently been naïve to the sheer desperation in it.

“Oscar—“

His lips crashed against yours, your back hitting the door and his hands cupped your face, holding him to you.

You froze, only for a moment as your stomach dropped from the surprise. Then it came rushing back up to you and your fingers buried themselves in his hair, kissing him back with such ferocity you weren’t aware you were capable of.

One of his hands held the nape of your neck while his other hand quickly undid your seat belt, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. He was so warm, soft yet rough at the same time and he tasted like heaven. As his tongue slid past your lips, dancing against yours you let out a moan that had him trembling against you.

Years. You had waited years to kiss him. You’ve dreamt about it. God, you even cried about it a couple of times. The pure longing you had been harbouring all this time had reached criticality and now you were just about to explode. His hands were all over you, exploring every inch as if he was a crazed man who found the holy grail and couldn’t quite believe it.

His tongue explored the inside of your mouth, hot and wet and he was practically breathing you in. Your nails raked through his hair, wanting so much more it felt maddening.

His teeth tugged at your bottom lip as he pulled away, his eyes heavy lidded and before you could utter a complaint his mouth latched onto your neck, just below your jaw. The sound that left your mouth was embarrassing but he seemed to love it, a moan leaving his mouth and vibrating through you as he left a wet trail of open mouth kisses down your throat, sucking and biting as he went.

You tugged on his hair, a whimper leaving his mouth but it was swallowed up by your mouth as you kissed him again. With one hand snaking up underneath your shirt, his other hand grabbed your wrist and placed it on—

Your brain short circuited by how hard his cock was. Not only that, but you were touching him. There. You could faint.

“Angel, please.” It was practically a whine as he kept kissing you, his hips pushing up into your hand. As if the sounds leaving his mouth commanded you, you squeezed his erection through his pants.

Oscar shuddered violently, his head falling into the crook of your neck. “Fuck.”

“Oscar.” You sounded needy. You didn’t care. And for a whole list of fucked up reasons, you didn’t care that you had a boyfriend.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, f1, maxverstappen1 and 1,926,378 others

landonorris yup 🏆 more like it

*tap to load more comments*

userone: LESGOOOOO

usertwo: twowinssss

userthree: anyone notice how tense lando & oscar were?

| userfour: yea… and landos gf. super weird

| userfive: neither of them liked this either

usersix: y’all see those dm’s some girl leaked???

| userseven: YEAAA lando has been lurkinggg

| usereight: embarrassing honestly

usernine: y’all see that video of oscar drifting through the city? wild

| userten: I KNOWWW it was sick. didn’t know he was like that

| usereleven: who do you think the girl was in the passenger seat?

usertweleve: MORE DM’S GOT LEAKED

userthirteen: lando is quite literally for the streets

userfourteen: is this why oscar has been racing dirtier? his teammate fucks over his best friend? yikes

comments have been disabled

part three found here

217 notes · View notes

orbitariums · 4 months ago

Text

older art x younger black reader sugar daddy aspect... short lil smut included with breeding kink... art is grown and tired as ever but the most alive when he's with you.

older! art + younger black reader is something so sacred like. he's absolutely smitten by you, obsessed, and not shy about showing it. your laugh is like tinkling bells to him, and you laugh a lot. you're so innocent in the sense that you haven't been marked with the scar of age that mars your joie de vivre. each time you laugh, really laugh with the full force of your body, throwing your head back so your nose aligns with the stars, he just grins up at you in pure bliss.

you're so gentle with each other – when you're out walking together he always holds your hand, pulls you gently aside when a bike whizzes by. when he's tired after a day of training you straddle his lap on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around his neck and pressing your forehead to his, like you're trying to telecommunicate a feeling of calm. you never fight, at least not the way art used to in his past relationships. if you're upset about something, you listen to each other. you come to a compromise. you sleep on it and revisit it the next day with a fresh mind (but you never go to bed angry). he speaks to you in dulcet, crooning tones — "you okay honey?" "i know baby."

he buys you whatever you want. if you're out with him you might as well leave your wallet at home. art is your wallet. he knows it and doesn't even think twice about it. even when you do try to pay for something, he's already taken care of it or he's stepping in front of you wordlessly and tapping his card. if you want something, it's in your hands in a heartbeat, no matter how expensive. if you even mention a bag you’ve been eyeing, it’s at your doorstep the next day.

you've introduced him to so many new things aligning with your generation. sometimes it's hard not to feel like an old fogey, but he takes a genuine interest in filming your tiktoks, brainstorming instagram post captions, and rating movies on letterboxd with you. his latest favorite has been watching reels and tiktoks of wig installs with you. he's practically begging you to let him do your braid down. you settle on letting him do the voiceover for your grwm tiktoks instead. you even enrich his taste palate — he'd never had or heard of seafood boil before you and now slapping on a pair of plastic gloves and getting king crab legs is your favorite thing to do on date nights.

you've taken to your own nicknames for him — "artie", "pookie", "my love." the most curious one though, and possibly his favorite — is "baby daddy."

you'd said it one time casually in conversation after he bought you a dress you'd tried on in the airport before your flight to fiji, hugging him close at the register and doting on him,

"thank you baby daddy!"

he stills when he hears you say it, swipes his card wordlessly and heads out of the shop with you still clung to his hip. while you're sitting in the lounge at the airport, he suddenly needs clarification,

"baby daddy? doesn't that imply that... i'm the father of your children?"

"huh...?" you were occupied with your nails. you looked up at him, noting the slightly clouded expression on his face. "i mean, technically yeah. but it's just a cute pet name to me. why, do you not like it?"

"i like it," was all art said in reply, and you placed a big kiss on his cheek, snuggling into his neck.

later that night in the hotel room, you're pressed beneath art as he places practically all of his weight on top of you. his hips are rolling into yours, unforgivably deep and penetrating. you can feel the curvature of his body digging against you. he can feel the plush of your breasts and the sweat slicking between the two of you. you're moaning raucously into his ear, fingers combing through his hair, damp with sweat.

"i'm your baby daddy?" he questions, his mouth pressed against your ear. you whimper when you hear it from him, low and imploring, even though he knows you can't respond right now. he's fucking you too good and he knows it, knows when you've reached an unresponsive state while he fucks you into oblivion. "want me to pump you full of my fucking kids? feed your pussy my cum?"

you're pulsing around him like crazy the more he talks, and he pulls away just slightly so he can see your face. his eyes gazing into yours, he asks,

"hmm? you want that? you want me to get you pregnant?"

his thrusts grow sharper and quicker, and somehow deeper. you yelp at the pleasure, and nod vigorously as you throw your hand over your mouth.

"art," you can barely whisper. he nods, his jaw grit so hard it's visible through his cheeks.

"i know baby, i know. i wanna hear you say it. want you to cum around this cock while you say it."

your back arches off the bed as you squeal,

"fuck, daddy, yes! i want you to get me fucking pregnant, want you to fill this pussy up with your cum, please."

it's like that sends him into overdrive and he fucks you at a pace you didn't know was previously possible. you're shaking as he thrusts harshly into you, pulsating around his dick and squeezing him with a vice grip when you finally come.

art's head hangs when he feels you squeeze around him and his thrusts start to grow stuttered and sloppy as he whimpers your name,

"fuck, yn. make me come, yes."

as promised, he shoots ropes of cum inside of you. when you think he's done, there's still more, painting your insides and eventually oozing out of you. two slow, redeeming thrusts to keep it all inside of you, and he's finally slowly pulling out. the both of you watch as some of it drips out of you. art rushes to finger it back inside of your sensitive, sore pussy. but you have no complaints.

he collapses beside you and you immediately bury yourself into his side.

"so baby daddy does it for you, huh?" you giggle.

art sighs deeply, resting one hand on your shoulder and the other on his stomach. even he is in awe of himself. he takes a deep breath, trying to commit the memory of your pussy dripping with his cum to his mind,

"you could say that."

#calm lil smut #challengers #x reader #x black reader #challengers smut #challengers fic #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x black reader #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson x black! reader

294 notes · View notes

reiderwriter · 11 months ago

Text

My Love Is Mine All Mine

Week 2 of my Playlist series 🎧💕

Summary: Spencer Reid always liked broken things, but you didn't think you could be fixed. Maybe all you needed was understanding and companionship.

Warnings: slight angst, case details mentioned - misogyny, kidnapping, etc, but no graphic/ explicit details. Hurt/Comfort.

A/N: Tumblr, please let me post haha I've been good, I promise 🙏 This fic is so late because I've been having some technical issues with tumblr and it has greatly annoyed me, so hopefully if you're seeing this it's been fixed? Who knows... Thank you to everyone who has sent in songs so far for the Playlist series, I'll be cresting the playlist today and posting it for everyone to see and use!

Masterlist || Series Playlist

Falling for Spencer Reid wasn't in your plan for the new year, but looking back, it was probably something that was just bound to happen.

He'd been the first person to show you any kindness after everything you went through, the first person who hadn't put their own rigid horror at your past before their attempts at sympathy.

You watched the way people recoiled from you as you told them - bluntly, you had to be blunt - what the man in the cabin had done to you.

He listened to your words, didn't interrupt, didn't quietly shake in anger, and refuse to meet your eyes like your father did, didn't weep for her baby like your mother did. He took your hand as it shook. He held your gaze.

It was his job to ask questions, but there weren't many left to answer.

The only reason you were alive was because his team had tracked the string of bodies to your kidnappers home. You were alive because one of his coworkers had put a bullet through his head, ending your nightmare.

The very idea of love was repulsive to you as you emerged from that basement in the first days of the next year, and you remembered thinking the snow looked fresh and soft. You remembered wanting to lay in it, to wrap it around yourself like a warm blanket and drift into sleep. The cold ground would be as much comfort as you would allow yourself.

Because after everything, you knew you didn't deserve love.

You accepted understanding from him, though.

When the shock wore off, you were awash in all the misery inflicted upon you. You raged, kicked, screamed, broke things, and made people uncomfortable. Nothing would numb the pain of being trapped inside your head, your head still trapped inside that basement, that cage.

He came to visit you at the hospital. The nurses had given up on you, were content you were physically healing, and that they had technically done their job but not bothered by your deteriorating mental state. Some days, you swore that they pierced your skin in the wrong places purposefully, not even searching for your vein.

But then he was there, with a book and a chess board, and he'd asked you if you'd ever played before.

“No. Chess always seemed too…” You swallowed the bile that drowned your lungs and tried again. “Before, it was boring. An old person game, too many rules. Now… He said we shouldn't do things like this. Said we shouldn't cultivate our minds.”

It was a confession again, but one that took a weight off your shoulders, and not one that pushed it further down.

“Would you like to learn?” His tone was so soft and awkward, like a teenage boy asking a girl out on a first date, that you almost giggled.

“I'll be honest and say you'll never beat me, I've played through most board combinations, including a large proportion of the 10^80 theorised checkmate positions, so if you'd rather do something else, that's fine, or I can leave, too, if… you'd… prefer?”

You had laughed then, a thing that bubbled up from the pit of your stomach and left your shoulders shaking as you gasped for breath doubled over.

You'd been in hell for six months, and he'd drawn you out of it for a few moments by rambling about chess.

“Are you a patient person, Doctor Reid?”

“I think so.”

“Then set up the board and let's play.”

He beat you every time, obviously, but you enjoyed his small explanations of the moves, and you did improve slightly.

More than that, you enjoyed his company. It wasn't that you talked extensively In your hospital room, oscillating between your lowest point and somewhere just a rung above that where the snow was falling and the air was fresh, but that he never looked at you the way others did.

You were discharged and were sad to lose that small glimmer of normality. He'd come twice a week throughout January, and now you were back in your usual shape. You were being discharged, and so that would end.

You were surprised that he came to pick you up from the hospital the day you left.

The parents who had looked everywhere for you for half a year hadn't wanted to, and the close friends from before hadn't spared you a thought since reposting your missing poster on their social media pages.

But the man you played chess with twice a week, the man who'd carried you out of hell himself was there.

“Ready to go?” You nodded, dumbstruck, and followed as he grabbed your bag.

You weren't exactly sure where it was you were going, but you followed the man anyway, only a small part of your brain shouting in protest considering the last time you'd been blindly trusting.

He led you back to an apartment with some bare furnishings but a large window and a warm soft blanket covering the bed. It wasn't his, but yours.

“Your parents are paying for it. They're taking the city to court due to the circumstances. Apparently, there were numerous phone calls to law enforcement that went unnoticed, but the city is looking to settle, so you don't have to worry about rent for a while, maybe ever again. The WiFi is all set up, hot water is working, and so is the heating. The locks are triple enforced, and I'm right down the hall, so if you need-”

“What?”

He blinked at you and suddenly, looking sheepish, as if becoming aware that he'd presumed a friendship between the two of you without consulting you first.

“I live down the hall.”

You stared at each other for a few moments as you processed his words. He lived down the hall. He'd driven you to your new home, set everything up for you, and he lived down the hall.

“You're a good man, Spencer Reid.” You whispered, turning away to not let the moment linger anymore than it already had.

Chess nights became routine. You'd set up the board and play for an hour or two or until you were sick of losing.

Gradually, though, the nights got longer. He'd arrive just as you were eating a meal, and you'd invite him to join you, or he'd bring along takeaway and you'd eat quietly together, talking about everything and nothing.

One day, you'd mentioned a film. A popular one, one you'd loved as a child and still rewatched to this day.

“I've never seen it, is it good?” He'd said. And in your shock, you jumped up and sent half the chessboard flying.

“Well, it seems that now our game is over, that we have time to give you an education, Doctor Reid.”

“I have three PhD's-”

“And still you haven't seen Clueless?”

You'd pulled him over to the couch he'd picked out for you, loaded up the movie and then invented a new tradition.

Chess nights and film nights were separate days of the week. So he could always promise to be around for one of them even if he had to miss the other because of work.

You didn't ask him about his job anymore. He saved people like you, and you didn't need to be thinking about people like you too much.

What they went through, if they survived physically. If they survived in other ways.

He always visited you first when he returned, though. There would be a knock on your door at some point in the day or night, and he'd let you know he was home safe.

Another tradition. You'd opened the door to let him in the first time he'd returned from a case after you moved in, and he'd leaned down and wrapped his arms around you.

You heard the breath of relief, loud and emotional, and hadn't quite realised it had come from you until a few minutes later. Some part of you had thought he wouldn't come back.

Now, every time he came home, you ran to the door and quietly comforted each other, reminding the other that no matter what happened, you were both there for each other.

You weren't sure when traditions and movies turned into love or if it had lingered over you the entire time. You didn't think you could love someone right then, your heart broken into small pieces with the torment you'd suffered.

But it was stitched back together with pieces of him still lodged inside. He was in the very fabric of your being as you became whole again.

The truth was that you most likely couldn't find love again because there was no room in your heart for anyone else. And you'd never be able to reschedule chess nights to go on dates anyway.

You weren't sure if Spencer ever figured out how much of hum you carried around with him, how your eyes followed his lips as he ran through decades of memories to give you the fact he thought would please you the most. You weren't sure if he loved you as much as you did him until you were.

You'd agreed to watch one of his movies for a change, agreeing to stop the streak of 80s brat pack classics to watch a black and white war film from Russia with no subtitles. You'd sat together on that couch under blankets you'd bought together months earlier, and he'd pulled you in closer.

“I want to watch the movie and translate at the same time. You should sit here.” He'd pulled you into his lap, letting your back fall against his chest as his lips fell to your ears, and he began to whisper.

Sitting there so closely, so intimately, was almost torture. Unconsciously, your head tipped back with his words, displaying your neck and shoulders, silently willing his lips to drift even once. His arms wrapped around your waist, and you did your best not to squirm the entire movie, but with your heart beating out of your chest, it was a hopeless cause.

“Did you enjoy it?” He whispered as the credits rolled, but you hadn't even noticed the movie had ended. It wasn't until the silence that followed his question stretched out notably that you came back to reality. You couldn't answer, in fact. You gaped for a few short moments, hoping something vague but accurate enough would just pop into your mind.

As you attempted to negotiate yourself out of distraction, you turned your face to his, but he was closer than you thought.

Your noses touched, and your breaths mingled. His arms still wrapped around your waist, and your blankets still anchored you to one another.

“I wasn't paying attention to the movie, Spencer. I'm sorry.” The words came out of you so fast, yet so quietly that you were surprised yourself how honest you had chosen to be.

“Why not?” He asked, eyes having drifted sleepily down to gaze at your lips.

You didn't answer his question but felt your cheeks flush red. You thought about pulling away, moving back, or at least laughing everything off, but you didn't. You stayed there, still like a deer in headlights.

“Your voice was too distracting,” You forced some of the tension out of your body and let your head fall against his shoulder again, hoping this moment wouldn't end anytime soon.

“Distracting?” He sounded concerned and shifted in his seat, lifting you up from your happy place in his arms until you were again face to face. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

The look on his face was so concerned and focused that you had to pause for a second to catch your breath. He cared about your comfort so much and paid attention to each word that came out of your mouth. He wanted your happiness more than anything in the world.

“No. I'm never uncomfortable with you, Spencer.” You were back to whispering now, hands floating up to grab his own, fidgeting by his sides. You bought them up to your face and guided his hands to your cheeks, needing to show him just how comfortable you were with him in actions, not just words. Words could be dishonest. Actions were honest.

His concern melted away as he began stroking your cheek with his thumb, smiling sweetly at you.

Though you were both content, you'd never been quite this intimate before. So when his thumb swiped over the corner of your lips, your eyes both caught on each other. You could see him weighing up the outcomes in his head, going back and forth between pulling away and pushing in closer.

Slowly and softly, as though he were trying not to startle you, his head moved closer until his lips were on yours.

It was a quiet kiss. You wouldn't describe it as fireworks, or butterflies, or anything loud and grand and passionate. It was quiet, and it was right.

He pulled away seconds later, trying to gauge your reaction, but you followed him away and kissed him again.

When you finally pulled away, it took you a few seconds to realise you'd climbed back into his lap, unconsciously having moved closer to him. You guiltily looked up, waiting to see any discomfort on his features, but to your surprise, he was busy straightening out your hair.

“I love you, Spencer,” you whispered as he took care of you. He smiled, looking down at you once again, pulling his arms around you to gently lower both of you down to a laying position on your couch.

“I love you, too,” he said as you held each other and drifted into contented sleep.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid hurt/comfort

664 notes · View notes

boatemlag · 8 months ago

Text

grian and scar have sex and then grian immediately goes to the window to watch mumbo jumbo with binoculars. hes sitting on the front lawn because he got sent outside, which isnt super necessary because he couldve just gone into the other room. technically grian could tell him that scar and him are done having sex and he can come in now but mumbo needs the fresh air quite frankly or else he gets really sad, which makes grian sad, and when the two of them are sad together it usually results in new exciting types of bombs being detonated. scar burns three whole cigarettes while grian's at the window. he doesnt smoke them he just likes to burn them in grian's bedroom because grian hates the smell. this is a compromise because scar used to set grian's curtains on fire and leave and one time it caused massive property damage which was a whole headache honestly. grian keeps going through his stuff and dunking the ones he finds, so scar has cub send him new ones once a week. sometimes cub throws lit ones in the window while grian and scar are still fucking because he thinks it's funny. aaaaaaaaaand post.

#wizard scrolls

237 notes · View notes

bokettochild · 26 days ago

Note

Am I allowed to ask about your Legend losing magic brainrot or do I need to just wait for more ACAC to come out?

No, I'm always happy to talk about this one!

I've actually had this headcannon for a while now, but it hasn't managed to come up in a story much (mainly because I've yet to post that BoHH chapter) but here's a brief rundown!

Legend had really strong magic as a child (it's implied heavily in the manga)

His adventures helped him temper it and learn to use it in various ways.

The manga imply that this magic is at least partially a gift of the triforce, although I believe all hylians have at least some magic, even if only latent. His royal blood would also contribute in my HC

Legend's magic was at it's peak in his Oracle adventures, where he had literal goddesses at his side most of the time and was frequently called upon to use their instruments as well as some of his own

Legend lost his magic on the way home from Labrynna when he was caught in a magical storm and struck by lightning.

Here's how it works!

A hylian, and any other magic user, has what one would call a 'magical core'. it's not something physical, but it functions as a heart of sorts where magic is involved, and despite not being present in the physical sense, can be felt and voluntarily controlled to certain extents by skilled magic users. All of their magic flows through this core much like our blood cycles through us from our heart, and, much like a heart, it can weaken or grow stronger depending on the health of the mage, the frequency of use, and what level of magic is employed.

Legend's magical core is incredibly strong, but when he was struck by lightning and woke up on Koholint, that changed.

See, in my HC, the Windfish fully intended to bring him there. What he didn't intend to do was essentially disconnect body and soul in order to do so. As far as this HC is concerned, Legend may or may not have technically been dead for the entirety of that adventure, as his 'physical' form on Koholint was created by the Windfish the same as anything else there in order to house his soul while he wandered the island, hence why it all felt so real for him.

Meanwhile, one of two things had to be happening for the Windfish. Either he was (a) trying to repair damage done to the borrowed goddess-child/servant's body, or (b) he had to essentially make a whole new physical shell for Legend's soul when he returned to the waking world because the lightning blast incinerated the original one.

Either take works with this HC, and I use them interchangeably where it suits me >:)

Whichever you use though, one thing stays true regardless; when returning Legend's soul to his body, the Windfish's magic was still incredibly weak from what he'd been through (what with the corruption and dark magic he'd been fighting) so he did a sort of slap-dash job of it (not intentionally).

This results in a sort of disconnect between Legend's actual soul as his physical form, which includes the fact that his soul and magical systems are not connected to each other as they ought to be.

I don't know how many of you have dabbled in electronics, but it's something like if you were able to build a functioning robot, but someone pulled out all the wires and you had to hurriedly reconnect them all again, only to miss one that, while not essential to basic functions, does affect one particular lesser function. The Windfish forgot that proverbial 'wire' when reattaching soul and body.

Legend is not aware of this. Legend is only aware that he had magic before Koholint, and then he didn't when he came back.

However, when he came back, I imagine he had a lot going on initially, and it's all of that which he believes caused him to lose his magic, not the dream itself. See, Legend's return to the waking world had him stranded out at sea with only a bit of driftwood and, while he had his adventurers bag, it likely didn't have any food in it. So, while, being Legend, he probably had a canteen of fresh water at hand, that would only last him so long. Which means, between sun exposure, lack of food and fresh water, and trying to find his way home, by either paddling himself around or using his mer form, he probably had some issues.

Now, I like to say he used the mer form, as it offers him the best advantages, such as not needing to actually use his fresh water supply, as Mer can absorb water from their environment and are able to withstand both salt and fresh water, as well as they have faster propulsion and he wouldn't be directly exposed to the sun.

Maybe he even ran into other mer! Who knows! Since this is my HC though, I like to say he did, but because he tried to sort of travel with them for a while, it did catch attention from above, and in perhaps the worst turn of events possible, the mer school was attacked by pirates and one little hero just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time (again) resulting in our lovely vet taking a spear through the tail.

I say the other mer got scared off by the attack and our boy was sort of just stuck in survivor mode for a good while before, eventually, being picked up by Ralph, because I want it :)

Anyways, upon return to Hyrule, he's screwed over from lightning and injuries, and since swimming with a spear through your tail (and the resulting infection) isn't much of an option, yes, that dehydration and sun exposure did come into play regardless. So, in short, Legend was screwed over from the time he made it Hyrule to the start of his next adventure. I say that he had to relearn to walk in that time, and struggled with speaking, although that was likely a result of heavy depression and trauma and less a physical issue.

I don't think Legend really tried using his magic until the following adventure, which, while not canonically his, I like to say is Cadence, but it could be ALBW instead. When he can't access his magic as he used to, he assumes that, like his speech and mobility, it was just something he lost or damaged in his returning home (the mer thing is a curse and thus outside of his control, if you were wondering).

I think he took it pretty hard, naturally. But, being himself, he adapted around it by acquiring magical items of varied sorts that he could use to sort of replicate his old abilities and/or give himself access to new magic.

Now, a magical item is something that is powered by the users magic specifically, sort of latching onto the 'veins' of their magic automatically, so this is actually a great workaround for Legend! While he can't actually find/access his 'core' for himself, a magical item can, and it taps into his magic for him, thus allowing him to employ at least some of his magic.

Now, you can get angsty with this and say that, like with a heart, because Legend himself is not regularly accessing and employing is magic, it sort of causes a build up that could and might be slowly killing him, but that's only if you want the super angsty route >:)

Regardless, what Legend has is, as Wild put it, a magical disability; essentially the equivalent of being crippled (which Legend has already been, technically, although he's recovering still from that too). As far as mortals are concerned, there's no fix for it. His soul would literally have to be removed from his body, again, and then properly re-placed within, which, while possible, he would never go for, because he's an un-trusting little bunny.

This WILL come up in other stories (it'll play a major role in BoHH), but in none of them have I chosen (so far) to restore Legend's magic to the way it's supposed to be. As is, he's sort of jury-rigged himself a solution in the form of what are, in essence, the magical equivalent of adaptive technologies/mobility aides.

The one way this does benefit him, however, is that his magic is shrouded and also much less blaringly obvious to the magically sensitive/adept, which makes hiding his heritage/presence much easier, even if it does make everything esle much harder.

And that's it!

(If you're curious about fics where I've played with this idea before, then the Sicktember 2023 installments Legacies Burden, Deeper Than The Surface, and Footsteps Across History all briefly touch on the magical adaptive technology usage, and To Seek Hyrule's Star plays a little bit with the post-Koholint Legend, although less than I had originally planned when writing it.)

#asks and answers #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #ketto's brainfarts #ketto's lorebuilding #magically disabled legend au

77 notes · View notes

deathofacupid · 8 months ago

Text

cool | peter parker

a/n: this concept was so sweet to me, and i had to write something for it. okay, so yeah, this is technically irondad + spiderson... but i wanted to add to it.

repost because this fic flopped with, like, 10 notes. if you look at the og, it says 700ish because of the prev notes of what i reblogged. interact with this fic, it's what keeps me going!

summary: you find that a brown haired boy is always at the restraunt you work at, covered with cuts and bruises. you're curious, so what do you do?

warnings: cursing, minor angst (not really tho, mostly fluff)

pairing: fem!reader x post-nwh!peter parker

word count: 1.5k+ words

you're working late, you don't normally. it doesn't hurt though, having a side hustle outside of college. with shit parents, community college is really all you have as an option, so extra money is welcomed.

it's 20 minutes until closing time, and you're the only one left. you've read enough articles and watched enough true crime to be at least a little paranoid. not expecting anyone else, you spray a table, wiping it down with a rag. might as well get started with cleaning, right?

so when you hear the familiar chime of the door, you've got the right to be suprised. looking up, you're greeted by the sight of a boy. he's got soft brown curls, and (you find, once you meet his gaze) matching dark, hazel eyes.

you wave at him and move behind the register. he looks harmless, but don't most men that have bad intentions? not that you think he's going to do anything.

you're just a woman. it's the way of life, this thought spiral.

"hi, what can i get you?" when he's closer, you can see the cut he's got on his cheek. it's dried blood, but still enough to make your eyebrows shoot up. in fact, he's got a bruise too.

under his left eye, and by the yellow-green, you can tell it's fresh. it's not your business to ask, well, it is... but you're only asking about his order. he runs a hand through his hair, obviously trying to tame it.

there's a leaf at the top, tangled in there. you want to take it out.

he sniffs, eying the menu. you've never seen him here before, and you've been working here for a while. now that you're looking at him, his eye looks swollen - like someone socked him. "a- a cheese-"

you're not sure where the sudden courage comes from, but you cut him off; "do you want an ice pack? or, uh, maybe frozen peas?"

he looks startled for a second, as if he were just now knocked out og this long train of thought. he pauses to touch his eye, "um," you can tell he doesn't want to trouble you, but you're intrigued now.

"seriously, it's no problem." (on the account you have frozen peas, then it would be no problem. if you didn't... a pack of cold, raw meat-?)

"sure, yeah."

"cool. er- stay right there." you go to the freezer room, rummaging around for frozen peas. it takes you a minute, and you're afraid there are none for a moment, but there are. triumphantly, you bring them back out.

he's standing in the same place, although you're not sure why he would've left. "peas!" you sing-song. handing them to him, you smile.

he throws one back, though it's forced and kind of hollow. you're afraid you've made him uncomfortable, or that you're too much. are you too much?

he squints at your nametag, "thanks, uh, gertrude?"

you're confused for a second, "oh, she's dead."

"i- sorry?" he tilts his head, now he's confused too.

"no, i mean, this isn't my nametag. it's old. like, super old. manager's dead wife. this place is too cheap to get new ones, so we, like, basically catfish people."

he nods, "okay. what's is it then?"

"huh?"

"your name."

you mentally smack your forehead, of course that's what he was asking. "y/n."

"cool. i'm peter. peter parker."

"nice to meet you peter peter parker," it's your attempt at a joke, paired with a lopsided grin. it makes peter smile though, so you consider it a win.

peter presses the pack to his eye, a wince turning into a sigh. oddly enough, it sounds sexual to you, and your face is heating up. what's wrong with you? seriously?

"okay, well, um, i assume you still wanna order something?"

"yeah. maybe just a cheeseburger and fries?"

"you got it," it's closing time, but you don't mind. peter is cute, and he seems nice as well. you're more than happy to stay around longer. "on the house," you say when he tries to offer you money, "seems like you had a rough night."

"no, i-"

"no sweat, parker."

you ring up his order, get it ready, and by the time you're done, he's settled at a table. "here you go. enjoy!"

you go back to sweeping, but you want to talk to him more. "you live around here? i haven't seen you here before."

"uh... not exactly. i don't come here often. i, um," he presses his lips together, "had a friend that brought me here. once or twice."

you frown, "oh, i'm sorry."

"what?" peter looks up from his meal.

"i just- well, you used past tense so i assumed you don't... aren't in touch anymore?" maybe small talk was a bad idea.

"oh. yeah. i guess. he's not really... around. he passed a little while back."

it's like your heart physically aches. "that's sad to hear."

"yeah. 's okay though, getting by fine. or- or better."

"mhm. it gets better. lost my sister a few a years back."

"really? i'm sorry." they're empty words, you've probably heard them a lot, he knows that. you know he knows that.

"thanks."

"yeah," it's quiet for a little while longer.

"so, uh," he pauses, taking a sip of his water, "are you still in school?"

"college," you pause, slightly embarrassed, "community, i mean."

"oh. cool. i'm at midtown. it's not, like, super fancy or whatever..."

you cut him off, shrugging, "better than community. and isn't it like so stupid, how they basically tell you that college is a must, and then have you pay all this money? 'oh, you need it for a good future!'" you mock, "aw, really? then make it free!"

you freeze, realizing you've gone on a tangent. "sorry," you say, flushing.

"no, it's okay," he laughs. "it's cool you're... passionate."

"thanks," you put the broom away. "um, i have to go take out the trash. would you mind... not stealing anything?"

"i'll try," he jokes.

"cool. i believe in your ability of self-restraint."

"cool," he says, matching your tone.

"cool."

"okay, that got weird after the, like, second time," you make a face.

"no, yeah, i agree."

"cool," you say, staring at each other in dead silence, before bursting into laughter. you hold up the trashbag, "yeah, so, one sec."

you push open the back door, tossing the bag in the dumpster.

he's so nice, you think. look at you, falling for a basically stranger. you walk back in, closing the door behind you. you notice he's done, so you throw out his things, cleaning down the table.

"hey, uh, when do you close?" peter asks.

you check the clock, "mm... 15 minutes ago."

"holy shit, really?"

"yeah. it's cool though. i was closing anyway, and the company didn't hurt. also... it looked like you needed this."

he looks down at his shoes, smiling, "yeah, no, i did. thanks. and sorry."

"like i said, it's cool."

"cool," you stop, "are you in a cult?" you blurt.

"um, sorry?"

"sorry, like, i just, you look... beat up. and i was wondering if you were in a gang... or something." you squint at the dried blood on his knuckles.

"uh... i am not."

"then how'd you get those?"

he looks conflicted, and you've probably crossed a line. "oh my god, i'm so sorry. obviously, it's not my business. i was just... curious."

you wipe down your last table, cursing yourself internally.

"no, it's cool. i'm..."

"seriously, it's not my business. don't tell me, actually. plausible deniability," you joke.

he says something, and it's so quiet, you don't hear it. "what?" you ask.

"i'm spider-man!"

"uh. what?"

"you don't know spider-man?"

"no, of course i know spider-man!"

"well, yeah. that's me. suprise." he says, doing a small show of jazz-hands.

"there's legit no way. i know i catfished you earlier, but that was on accident!"

he tilts his head, as if he's weighing his options. in reponse, you narrow your eyes at him, trying to figure out if it's one big joke. after that, it's so quick, you barely notice. something hits your hip, not harshly, and then you're spinning towards peter.

"holy-!" you look down at your side, trying to figure out what it is. you're tucked into peter, and you realize it's... a web. "no. way."

"yes way."

"why'd you tell me? now i can't plausibly deny anything! also, isn't this supposed to be a secret? isn't that the point of the mask? how do you know i won't sell you out?"

"that was a lot."

"i know. but it was very valid."

"i don't know. i just wanted to. you're nice and sweet and pretty-"

"oh, so pretty privilege?"

"no! no, of course not!"

"well, um," you wrap your arms around his neck, "thank you for trusting me. i won't tell anyone."

"cool."

his hands are on your hips, and he's leaning in, but you pull away, smirking.

"no kissing until the second date, i'm afraid."

"we're going on dates?"

"if you don't want me to broadcast to the world, yes."

"well, i would've asked to take you anyways."

you smile at him, enjoying the moment.

"wait, are those cameras?" there's absolute panic in his voice, and you giggle.

"those are fake. it's cardboard to scare people off."

"oh. cool."

"cool."

you end up kissing him anyways.

@whatsupstark@ell0ra-br3kk3r@idli-dosa@susvale@kdbsr-h@littlemsbumblebee @sflame15-blog @twinsunkithies @chocolateshepherddreamclod @one-piece-frvr7

#tom holland #peter parker #spiderman #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #peter parker imagine #angst

209 notes · View notes

lancerslover · 3 months ago

Text

Just Relax

pairing: young john f. kennedy/reader

summary: the summer before his graduate program at stanford, jack kennedy brings his new fiancée, president roosevelt's niece, out on a sailboat for some much-needed alone time.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: 18+, smut, some swearing, mildly dubious consent

taglist: @raspberryknees @saturns-flowers @vlyofthedolls @fortheloveofjos @h-l-vlovesvintage @astro-vibes-bro @neverellaxx7 @maudesgf @southernpopprincess @melancholicstation @secretwonderlandcheesecake @kennediva

a/n: first of all, thank you as always to @vintagedebutante for the beautiful moodboard photos!

this fic’s based on a request i got a while ago for jack to be in an arranged kind of marriage with another socialite! i know it's short 😫 but i'm planning on posting another fic in the next few weeks. i hope you all enjoy this one!!

You’re watching Jack Kennedy sail his boat—how his flexing muscles shimmer like knots of cinnamon in the white sun, the way his golden-red hair ruffles around his ears in the fresh late-morning wind, the way his face glows pink from exertion and every few minutes he’ll mutter something like, “Easy now, just like that, there we are” while easing the long wooden tiller back and forth—when, suddenly, the boat rolls over a particularly big wave and you start slipping from your perch at the edge of the deck.

But before you even know what’s happening, Jack’s long, heroic arm comes swooping across your waist to yank you back to safety just as you’re about to tip overboard.

“I‘ve got you, I’ve got you.” You feel his voice, urgent but still self-assuredly calm, on your neck. Then you feel his hot, furry thighs as you stumble back—or what’s more likely is that he’s purposely pulling you—into his lap.

A quiet groan escapes you. This is the last thing you need. The whole reason you left the cockpit to go sit at the far edge of the boat in the first place was to try and put some distance between yourself and him.

“Are you alright?” he asks then, scorching you with one of those slow, coaxing smiles as he looms over you.

“I’m fine,” you say, and you realize from the sound of your voice that you’re a little breathless—but whether that’s from the aftershock of almost falling or the jittery thrill of being pressed against him, you aren’t entirely sure.

This little voyage at sea is the longest you two have ever been completely alone together. Sure, you’ve been technically alone for hours in places like the cinema hall or a restaurant on all of those ridiculous “dates” your families would send the two of you on so you could be photographed together before they announced your engagement, but this is different. You’re truly alone, without another soul in sight.

Normally when you two find yourselves truly alone like this, it’s only for a few minutes while Jack drives you home from one of those “dates,” and it doesn’t take long before neither of you can handle the tension any longer and he’s pulling over and unbuttoning your blouse. And you’re pretty sure he was envisioning something along those lines when he invited you and you alone out onto his boat the second his family’s breakfast picnic ended.

Of course, you’re envisioning that, too. How could you not? For almost a half-hour now, you’ve been forced to watch him in all his masculine glory, commanding the sea against the backdrop of the shiny Kennedy mansion on the horizon and the flapping American flag on their beachside lawn. It’s stunning, the way Jack looks like the total embodiment of the youthful, all-American manhood that he and his brothers symbolize to so many. And the fact that he just rescued you certainly isn’t making matters any easier—because what you also can’t help but envision is the scandalous story that would smear across the society column of every major newspaper if an innocent, neighborly passerby boat happened to catch you and Jack with your hands all over each other in public, before you were married, no less. Your reputation would be in ruins. Your mother genuinely might never speak to you again.

The entire world, it sometimes seems, has been involved in every last little day-to-day moment of your courtship with Jack ever since your families first formally introduced you at a dinner party over a year ago now. But that’s the whole point, you suppose, behind two of the most famous families in America betrothing their two eldest children to each other. And now that, as of last month, you and Jack are officially engaged, the country waits with bated breath for the union between the handsome Kennedy celebrity—who, come autumn, will be galavanting off for his glamorous first semester as a graduate student at Stanford, where he’ll likely mingle among a swath of California’s finest singers and matinee idols—and you. If anyone asked, you would say that the most notable thing about you is that you’ve just finished your freshman year at Radcliffe College. A few years ago, you were dubbed “President Roosevelt’s favorite niece” by the New York Times, but in all honesty, you don’t actually have any reason to believe that your uncle prefers you over any of your cousins.

But still, under no circumstances, you tell yourself, will you let Jack make any sort of move on you out here on this boat. At least one of you needs to have your priorities straight.

“I told you not to sit up there, didn’t I?” Jack is saying when you snap out of your thoughts, tilting his chin toward the edge of the deck where, moments ago, you were peacefully sitting. “Remember this next time you decide not to listen to me.”

You can’t help but crane your neck back to try and study his face for some hint as to what he’s really feeling behind all the sarcasm. Does he pity you for almost tumbling overboard? Or does he think this whole situation is just plain funny? Though either one would be sufficiently humiliating, you’re sort of hoping that, whatever he’s thinking, it’s now distracting him from any dirty thoughts.

But, alas, he’s wearing his big, circular sunglasses, so it’s really no use trying to read him. Unlike the rest of his features, his eyes are always so full of soul and emotion, and whenever you can’t see them, he suddenly becomes so distant, like a calculating secret agent who’s completely anonymous to everyone he keeps tabs on yet somehow knows all of their darkest secrets.

Your spine tightens then when you hear the faint chug of another boat cruising by, but thankfully, when you turn to look, you realize it’s not coming close enough for anyone on board to see you in Jack’s lap. Nevertheless, you twist out of Jack’s arms, landing with a soft thud beside him on the wooden bench.

Jack chuckles then, a deep, slightly dark sound. You blow your bangs out of your eyes, trying your best to seem nonchalant while sparks go off inside of you at the sound of his laugh.

“Why’d you wanna sit so far from me, anyway, huh?” he asks, sidling closer simply because he knows perfectly well that you don’t want him to.

The sharp contrast between his dark glasses and the bright, sun-reflecting tape across the freckled bridge of his nose is suddenly making your eyes burn, and you stare down at your sandals. You start to open your mouth to remind him that now isn’t the time or place to do whatever he’s thinking of doing—but your voice dries out in your throat as he places his hand on your thigh and gives it a soft, playful squeeze. Oh, boy, you think. Here we go.

“What’s wrong?” Jack murmurs with exaggerated concern, an electric sound that’s followed immediately by the dangerous, hair-raising sizzle of his lips on your exposed neck. You suck in a sharp breath of air. “Afraid somebody’s gonna see us?”

He moves your hair to the side and kisses your neck again. And again. You know you should move away but the heat from his chest has welded your body to the bench beneath you.

When he speaks again, his voice is suddenly lower and quieter than before, like there’s something inside of him that he, too, is now trying to suppress, to wrangle into control.

“There’s no need to worry,” he says. “If there’s a photo of me bending you over the deck in The Post tomorrow, I’ll make sure none of the blame falls on you. I’ll say I grabbed you and you tried your best to get away but I just wouldn’t let you go.”

He chuckles again, and then, when you sense him suddenly pulling away, you can’t help but feel a clench of disappointment.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him reach up into the sails and bring the boat to a complete standstill in a whirlwind of brisk, whooshing movements. Then you’re being heaved onto his lap again, facing him this time, your knees thumping against the bench on either side of his legs.

You let out a small, shuddering laugh, pressing your hands to his chest. “Oh, come now, Kennedy,” you say. “As romantic as it sounds, we can’t actually—”

He cuts you off by popping open the button on your shorts.

You’re suppressing a grin as you try your best to push away from him, to squeeze your thighs closed. But his big hands close tightly around your hips, and in a sudden flash of riled-up aggression, he jolts you still with one sharp, warning movement. Almost immediately, you can feel bruises start to form under his fingertips, which makes your stomach somersault.

“Keep still, Y/N,” Jack groans between clenched teeth, the corners of his mouth fighting off a smirk. “Christ. You’re killing me.”

Left with no other choice, you settle back down into his lap, and you quickly realize exactly what he meant by “You’re killing me.” The inside of your thigh brushes against a bulge in his pants that, you can only assume, was created by the friction from all your inadvertent grinding against him.

A shaky gasp leaves your lips then as his long, knuckly finger slips inside your zipper. When that same finger starts to move in slow circles over your clit, your head falls back and you breathe “God dammit, Jack” to the sky.

“Listen,” Jack says into your skin while he kisses across the length of your collarbone, “I promise nobody’s gonna see us. We’re far enough out.”

He brings his free hand to cup your breast over your shirt, and your head tilts forward. Your forehead smushes against his, which, strangely, is kind of soothing. You take the opportunity to let out a deep breath.

“That’s it, kid,” Jack says, his teeth brushing against your lips. “Just relax.”

Into his mouth, you whisper the words, “I hate you.”

One of his eyebrows twitches up over his sunglasses. “Yeah?” he says, and he suddenly sounds even more feverishly out-of-breath than you are. “You hate me, huh?”

He laughs as his finger increases its pressure, and a wave of pleasure so intense you feel like you could vomit cracks through your body. So much for trying to relax. Your mouth falls open, and as you gasp his name, you notice his mouth going slack, too, as he watches yours. An odd, gratifying tingle shoots down your back.

He increases the pressure again. “How does that feel?” he asks, blinding you with the cocky glint of his teeth. When you don’t respond—because your deep-seated competitive side won’t give him the satisfaction—he closes your clit between his thumb and pointer finger in a gentle pinch.

You can’t do anything but groan as that watery pressure starts to reach a breaking point between your legs.

In a last-ditch attempt to gain some semblance of control over the situation, you shove those god-forsaken sunglasses up off his face and back into his thick tangle of hair. But his eyes are so bright and so full of what looks to be some sort of boyish, appreciative awe as he looks up at you that, once again, you’re rendered stunned and powerless. You’re briefly reminded of that old John Buchan quote you always felt described Jack perfectly: “He disliked emotion, not because he felt lightly, but because he felt deeply.”

“Soon,” Jack says then, as if he’s been waiting to say this until his sunglasses were off and he could truly look you in the eye, “we’ll have our own house and the rest of our lives to be alone every single day.”

The sun starts to melt out from behind a cloud, and Jack’s eyes crease adorably around the edges as he squints up at you. You aren’t quite sure how to respond to his uncharacteristically sentimental remark, but in the end, you don’t have to. You hit your climax right at that moment—you aren’t sure exactly why. But suddenly your whole body is trembling, and you’re gasping his name into his neck, sinking your teeth into his stubbly skin, digging your nails into his shoulders. You feel his throat vibrating as he groans along with you.

Just then, you hear another sailboat come putzing by—and this one sounds only a hundred or so feet away. Immediately, you’re ripped from the throes of ecstasy. You sit back up, heart jumping into your throat so fast you almost choke. You feel Jack tense up, too.

But then the man at the helm of the boat waves and shouts hello, and you feel Jack relax.

“Ah,” Jack says. “It’s just old Mr. Newman. He can’t see well. Completely harmless.”

“Are you kids behaving yourselves?” Mr. Newman shouts jovially across the glittering water.

“Always, Mr. Newman,” Jack says, pulling his hand out of your shorts to wave back.

thank you for reading!!

#john f kennedy #jfk #john f kennedy x reader #jfk x reader #jfk x you #the kennedys #john f kennedy fanfiction #americana #vintage americana #maria writes

109 notes · View notes

thegreatimpersonator · 8 months ago

Text

since y'all seemed to want this.... here's the live notes i took while listening to each song for the first time (bold are thoughts i had during later listens)

fortnight:

‘i was a functioning alcohol till nobody noticed my new aesthetic’ what the fuck does that even mean…

love the fact she gave post the female collab treatment. don’t wanna hear what he has to say.

they’re voices sound actually good together?

some pockets of the melody are catchy

okay i don’t hate this

ttpd:

her red flags are on fire in this song lol

this seems very half-cooked

also jacks weird mixing continues to plague us all

CHARLIE PUTH???? WHAT THE FUCK WHY HE HERE

tattooed golden retriever??? ……no way

my boy breaks all his favorite toys:

i blinked and it’s half over

this also is like… half cooked and didn’t need to be released tbh

i love the way she sings the second verse tho

down and:

the production does not match the vibe

did tpain produce this

i’m… kinda bored lol

like i have nothing to say this also didn’t need to be released tbh

this grew on me a lot actually

so long london

the production is so futuristic?

oh im obsessed with how she sounds on this one

her talk-singing in the verses is great

honest lyrics without any clunky unnecessary metaphors! a win!!

the fast-paced verses with th slow chorus is really really cool

a favorite so far

daddy i love him

i can barely hear her? the bad mixing continues

‘growing up precociously sometimes means not growing up at all’ oh yeah WE KNOW

is this…… is this about her dating matty and loving how people hate him… no fucking way she’s this stupid

SHE IS BEING THIS STUPID

‘it’s white noise’ yeah yeah that’s exactly how id describe him

.... anyway y'all remember when fans really believed the little mermaid theory and this song was supposed to be about how 'joe stole her voice' lmaooo

we will pretend this one doesn't exist!

fresh out the slammer

are we getting another ‘i didn’t cheat technically’ song lol

what is this weird tempo change….

okay kinda catchy

it’s sounds exactly like you are in love at the end….. jack is really out of tricks

florida

‘my friends all smell like weed or little babies’ what the fuck is she even talking about anymore

i’m sorry but i’m laughing at the phrase ‘fuck me up florida’

again the production sounds so detached from the vocals

i honestly still have no idea how i feel about this one

guilt as sin

an real instrument?? wow crazy

okay she’s kinda cute? catchy and fun, love the melody

i love when she goes up at the end of the vocal

okay…. i don’t mind this one she’s catchy, a little too long and drawn out but cute

who’s afraid of little old me?

what is this production? it’s way too soft to be as threatening as they’re trying for

why did jack push her vocals back so far when she’s supposed to scream…. that’s ruins the whole thing…. she’s supposed to be screaming and threatening….. not quiet and far away…. hello

this song is trying very hard to be threatening but it’s not... vigilante shit 2.0

‘you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum they raised me’…………… upper middle-class pennsylvania?

‘i’m drunk on my own tears isn’t that what they all say, that’ll sue you if you step on my lawn’ okay bar?

the bridge was good but that’s about it.

i can fix him

…………… not another matty song oh god

‘i can handle a dangerous man’…… im too stunned to speak this is so embarrassing

wow taylor really is that girl who like ‘women supporting women’ and then dates/defends a racist bf…. a walking example of white feminism

intersectional feminism found dead.... twice....

loml

okay this is really nice?

I WAS ACTUALLY ENJOYING THE SONG WHY DID SHE RUIN IT BY SAYING ‘MR STEAL YOUR GIRL’ 💀

if we ignore that one line we're good this is good. im refusing to let that line ruin such a good song

i can do it with a broken heart

‘bitch smile’ why are there so many cringey lyrics on this album lol

what is this song omg why do i kind of like it

taylor please learn depressed isn’t a synonym for sad

they recycled the mastermind production

wait till taylor finds out most of the entire world is sad while they're doing their job and has to pretend they're not

smallest man who ever lived

oh i think i like this?

‘you said normal girls were boring’ GIRL AND YOU DIDNT IMMEDIATELY GET UP AND LEAVE??? EWWWW??? she's not beating the pick-me allegations

'i just wanna know if rusting my sparking summer was the goal' okay love that line

i like this a lot

the alchemy

no….. no way this is real

i cannot

THE SPORTS METAPHORS WE JOKED SHED DO THAT AND SHE ACTUALLY DID IT OH NO

touchdown ✅ teams ✅ benches ✅ winning streak ✅ the league ✅

she’s doing…… the worst thing ever this is so laughable

the corny lyrics are on overload

‘this time it’s heroine with an e’ didn’t she write folklore? i can’t remember

that literally was an snl parody of a taylor song

clara bow

love how the guitar sounds… bet money this is an aaron track

a stevie nicks reference!! a win!!!

i like this one a lot no cringey lyrics yet

nope never mind she name-dropped herself don’t like that

overall really liked it tho

the black dog

i think i like it?? this is kind of what i expected the album to be

okay for once the weird production choices kind of pay off

imgonnagetyouback

kinda catchy?

she loves a fancy car getting wrecked line

the pre-choruses are the best part

this would’ve been better without the jack of it all bc he loves a song that doesnt build to anything

this just comes down to personal preference: i don’t like her lighter vocals with jack’s heavy production (ie most of lover lol)

the albatross

a real instrument!!! production that matches taylor’s voice and is well mixed!!! aaron’s arrived!!

i think it’s solid, has good writing and she sounds great. that's about it.

chloe or sam or…

took me a solid minute to have any semblance of a fuck to know what was going on but okay

okay i love this one

wayyyy more emotive than like… most of the original album

a lot of the 2nd version (or whatever this is lol) are way more emotive, maybe because her voice isnt drenched in reverb so we can actually hear her voice emote better

how did it end

this sounds like an old school adele song?

i love this one too….

her being upset people wanna know what happened but then also feeding it while promoting the album oop

i love the story of this one it's so refreshing

so high school

THE PRODUCTION is so good ugh aaron never fails

the man here is a walking red flag girl and the lyrics are ~not it~ but the production is too pretty to hate it

fuck these lyrics are so bad lol

maybe if i disassociate hard enough i can ignore the lyrics and just listen to the production and vibe

give me a karaoke version of this song and we'd be so back

i hate it here

i mentioned disassociation and she made a whole song about it!!!! this one’s mine!!!!

‘without all the racists’ GIRL HUH

WHAT WAS THE REASON

also... girl don’t act like we don’t know you’re fine with that lololololol

if i had a dime for every time i was liking a song to then have it slapped away because of a bad, out-of-pocket lyric……

thank you aimee

this isn’t grabbing my attention

oh the bridge is interesting

it’s meh

i will never be thanking the people that bullied me thanks tho

i look in peoples windows

what do you mean aaron didn’t produce this??? it’s well-made and has instruments?

i love this one, again a really interesting and unique concept that's very refreshing to hear at this point when a lot of the songs feel repetitive

the prophecy

aaron guitar!!!!

she’s nice i like her

i've really grown to love how she sings this one, the melodies are cool.. however i feel like we've heard the same melody.. like on this exact album... where she upturns at the end of every line...

cassandra

this seems very…. familiar… idk i feel like we’ve covered this (i mean there are 31 songs we’ve already covered everything lol)

this is such an aaron song, that's a classic 'the national' piano

i like her voice in this one tho, sounds good

peter

oh love i love this

now this? THIS feels the most like a taylor swift song

once again she’s at her best with a simple instrument and emotive simple lyrics

the piano reminds me of champagne problems

the bolter

i like this! the chorus is so cute

oh i like that ending line a lot!

she’s cute, a little long and drawn out but cute

robin

i haven’t seen anyone talk about this one

welp…. i literally have no feelings toward this one but sounds pretty!

the manuscript

oh this is soooooooo powerful

i love this concept

her ending the album on another introspective album that sums everything up a la dear reader yep yep!!

if you actually read of this ily 💗

#tp #ttpd lb #kind of lol

112 notes · View notes

aesethewitch · 7 months ago

Text

Divination Troubleshooting

One of the more difficult aspects of divination, I think, is working out what to do when things don’t work the way they’re supposed to. When you’ve done everything technically right, there’s a chance you still won’t get answers that you can interpret, that make sense, or that are correct. If you have an occasional problem with divination, that’s totally normal — nothing will work 100% of the time. But when it happens consistently, it might be time to do a little troubleshooting.

This post is far from a complete list of possible problems. I’ve spent many years trying (and failing at) different forms of divination, so these are things I’ve personally run into and the things I consider when troubleshooting.

The basic format of this post is the form of problem, a short description of what the problem looks like, possible causes for the problem, and multiple suggested solutions for each cause. These recommendations are fairly general and non-exhaustive. You may find that you need to employ multiple solutions before the problem resolves, and you may find that none of these proposed solutions solve the issue you’re having. Some listed problems are specific to a particular tool, but most are applicable to more than one type.

Sometimes, determining the cause of your issue can be difficult. It can take a good amount of discernment to figure out, so don’t feel discouraged if you can’t fix the problem on the first try!

Unclear Answers

You’ve drawn your cards, cast your charms, selected your runes, and… it makes no sense, or maybe the answers you receive are too vague to be useful.

Cause: Lack of practice or familiarity with the tool Solutions:

Perform practice readings with the tool

Study the guidebook, if you have one, to determine whether there are additional meanings to glean

Look up potential alternate meanings to the individual cards/runes, or consider another perspective (Three of Swords not always meaning heartbreak, for example)

Ask for a second opinion by taking a picture of the reading and sending it to like-minded practitioners who would be willing to help you interpret

Request a reading from a more seasoned diviner to confirm the information you’re able to glean from your own reading (if you do this, I would suggest letting them know that you’re seeking clarity from a divination you did for yourself)

Cause: No thoughts, head empty (brain fog, sudden blanking, fatigue, etc.) Solutions:

Set it aside and come back to it later with fresh eyes

Do grounding or energizing exercises before redoing the divination

Take care of your mundane needs (drink water, eat something, sleep, take medicines, go outside/get fresh air, etc.) and then return to it

Ask for a second opinion

Write down what you can understand and return to it later to check your interpretation and/or reinterpret it

Cause: The question was poorly worded, or you’re asking the wrong question Solutions:

Reword the question

Ask a different question related to the situation

Consider whether the answer given is to another question or another facet of the situation

Ask the tool, spirits, deities, etc. what you should be focusing on, if not the question you’re asking

Ask follow-up questions to clarify specifics

Cause: The tool isn’t suited to the question you’re asking Solutions:

Try a different tool

Reword the question to suit the tool better

Request a reading from someone else (if you only use one type of tool)

Cause: Stagnant energy is lingering on or around the tool Solutions:

Cleanse the tool and any containers you keep the tool in

Reshuffle, shake, etc. thoroughly before attempting to divine again

Allow the tool to “rest” so it can “cool off” and lose some of the stuck-on energy

Cause: Missing context or information Solutions:

Write down what you can understand for now and come back in a few days/weeks to see if it makes more sense

Walk away and come back to it in an hour to see if new details come to mind

Work on phrasing your questions to account for information you don’t actively know

Cause: One single card is standing out, not meshing with the rest of the reading Solutions:

Let the querent know it’s a confusing card, explain what it typically means, and allow them to offer clarification or possible meanings to it

Decide ahead of time what you will do with cards like this and what they could possibly mean, so that when they come up, you can seamlessly deal with them

Disregard the rogue card entirely

Allow the card to stand on its own, almost like a separate reading within the existing reading; redraw for the position if doing a spread

Consider alternative or unorthodox meanings to the card, especially if it’s in an odd position in a spread:

The card may be referring to another question or situation; if so, set it aside and consider doing a separate divination with that card as a focus

The card may indicate a particular person; determine who it may be and what their impact is on the overall situation

The card may be a message from a spirit, related or unrelated to the situation; set it aside and consider doing a separate divination to see the full message

The card may indicate an unexpected element, upheaval, discomfort, or mismatched priorities; the interpretation largely depends on the card and position

Wrong Answers

You thought you had it, but the divination ended up being completely wrong. One time is normal, but consistently very wrong divinations are less so.

Cause: Lack of practice or familiarity with the tool Solutions:

Perform practice readings, either with actual questions, hypothetical scenarios, or no prompt at all to work on weaving meanings together and identifying messages/symbolism

Ask others if you can practice your divination with them to get more practical experience

Study the guidebook (if there is one) or other guides and articles on the tool to determine whether you missed a meaning, theme, or detail that would have made the reading more accurate

Study how you asked the question, performed the divination, and interpreted the output to see what may have gone wrong, if anything

Cause: The tool you’re using isn’t suited to you Solutions:

Try a different type of tool

If using tarot or oracle cards, try a deck with different imagery

If using tarot, try a deck based on a different system (Thoth vs. Rider-Waite-Smith, for example)

Cause: You’ve asked the same question too many times in a short period, and now the readings are so muddied nothing is accurate Solutions:

Take a break from divining on the question or topic

Consider the answers you’ve already gotten and determine which is the likeliest to be true (or untrue)

Ask a different question

Cause: Misleading or incorrect phrasing and information from the querent Solutions:

Clarify the situation with the querent

Before beginning the divination, let the querent know that they need to be honest with you or results may not be correct

Rephrase the question or prompt to be more honest about the situation

Cause: Blockages or disruption between you and the divination target Solutions:

Ask the querent to temporarily allow you through their protections

Cast a spell to break through the barrier/blockage before trying the divination again (note that if the barrier is a purposeful protection against prying eyes, there may be consequences to busting through)

Request spirit assistance with breaking through the blockage

Ground yourself and clear away any blockages or reluctance within yourself to see and understand the truth

Accept that the target person doesn’t want you divining about them

Cause: The question was poorly worded for the tool you’re using Solutions:

Try a different tool better suited to the type of question you’re asking (pendulums for yes/no, magpie oracle for general life readings, tarot for advice, etc.)

Reword the question to suit the tool

Practice asking better divination questions overall (proper wording, understanding the tool’s capabilities, etc.)

Conflicting Answers

When you do separate readings on the same topic and get different answers, it can be confusing! Which one do you believe? Which will actually come true?

Cause: You’ve asked the same question too many times Solutions:

Take a break from divining on the topic or question

Consider the answers you’ve already gotten and determine which is the likeliest to be true (or untrue)

Ask something else, either relating to the situation or not

Cause: Circumstances have changed radically since you last divined on the situation Solutions:

Divine on what’s changed and how it’s caused the shift

If the change is undesirable, ask how you can get back on track to the future you want

Compare the readings to see if you can determine the links between them

Cause: The future is mutable, and there are separate, very different possibilities branching out around the situation Solutions:

Divine about the causes of each outcome already gathered to see what’s causing the vast difference in readings

If there are many people involved, do smaller, more specific divinations to determine their impact on the future

Accept that you may not get to know the future perfectly

Ask instead how you can attain the future you actually want, rather than what may happen

Always Exhausted Afterwards

After doing divination, you feel absolutely drained of energy. Whether that’s physical, emotional, or spiritual energy, when it happens often, it can be discouraging and make you want to never do divination again!

Cause: Your energy is depleting naturally Solutions:

Do smaller divinations

Only perform one divination in a single sitting, rather than attempting several back to back

Request assistance from spirits to boost your own energy or borrow theirs for the reading

Eat a nourishing meal beforehand and have a snack afterwards

Cause: The querent, tool, spirits, etc., involved are draining your energy Solutions:

Bolster your area’s protections with a focus on keeping your energy to yourself

Wear something like a veil or other protective clothing, jewelry, or accessories during the divination to prevent the drain

Do a grounding exercise beforehand to center your focus and keep your energy to yourself

Pause the divination if you start feeling yourself draining to refresh and protect your energy

If working with spirits which are draining you as part of a deal (whether spoken or unspoken), make a physical offering instead of an energetic one

Practice energy work to learn how to better contain your energy so that it isn’t as free for the taking

Cause: You didn’t have the energy to begin with, but divined anyways Solutions:

Request a reading from a trusted source

Seek ways to boost your energy before beginning

Take care of your mundane needs before performing divination (eat something, drink water, take a nap, get some fresh air)

Spirits Aren’t Coming Through or Assisting

You’ve invited spirits to the table, but it doesn’t seem like they’ve got a hand in the divination results you’re getting.

Cause: You haven’t made an offering equivalent in value to what you’re asking for Solutions:

Set out an offering before starting if you haven’t already

Determine what the spirits might want other that what you’ve already offered

Offer something more personalized to the particular spirit

Make a sacrifice, rather than a simple offering (give up the last cookie, lay a piece of meaningful jewelry on their altar, etc.)

Cause: The spirits think you aren’t ready to know the answers you’re looking for Solutions:

Seek answers from another source

Wait a while and try again later

Ask a different question

Cause: The spirits you’re trying to contact aren’t immediately available/answering Solutions:

Call on the spirits before you start divining and let them know what you’re doing and why

Perform the divination at their sacred space, if possible

If working in an animist sense, “wake up” or “activate” your deck’s spirit in some way before beginning (knocking, speaking to it, etc.)

Cause: Another spirit is interrupting Solutions:

Ask the intruding spirit to back off (for now or forever, that’s up to you)

Perform a banishing if the spirit is unwelcome and will not leave when asked

Find out what the interrupting spirit wants and either decline or fulfill their request

End the divination and come back to it later on

Pendulum Won’t Swing Consistently

The pendulum swings willy-nilly with little to no rhyme or reason, providing no clear answers.

Cause: The cord, chain, string, or other material isn’t long enough Solutions:

Replace it with a longer cord, chain, string, etc.

Use a different pendulum

Create your own pendulum using a length of string (or twine, etc.) and a crystal, stone, pendant, coin, or other relatively heavy item

Cause: The pendulum itself isn’t heavy enough, or it’s an uneven shape Solutions:

Replace the pendulum with a pointed stone, crystal, or piece of glass Thread other, heavier beads, charms, crystals, stones, etc., onto the pendulum’s cord/chain

Cause: Your source for answers isn’t working with you Solutions:

If working based on your own intuition, do a grounding exercise and try again

If working with spirits, make an offering or see whether the spirits are present before trying again

Cause: There’s a breeze making it swing Solutions:

Wait until the wind dies down

Move indoors to try again

Close windows, turn off fans, and turn off air conditioners in the immediate area

Cause: The energy in your area is causing interference Solutions:

Perform a cleansing of the area to clear out excess energy

Banish any rogue spirits hanging around who are messing with the pendulum on purpose

Perform a ritual to calm the energy around you, like soothing a storm or lulling the wind to sleep for the duration of your divination

Keep Dropping Cards

Dropping your whole deck of cards may be an issue with grip strength, clumsiness, or joint bendiness… or, it may be a sign of an underlying issue or message.

Cause: The deck is too large or cumbersome to hold and shuffle easily Solutions:

Try another, smaller deck of tarot cards

Try a deck with standard card shapes (round or very large cards are personally super hard to shuffle neatly)

Ignore jumping or dropped cards, and only take cards you consciously draw

Cause: The shuffle itself is difficult Solutions:

Try another method of shuffling

Practice shuffling with regular playing cards, then with the deck you want to be using (this makes a fun fidget while watching shows)

If all shuffling is difficult, spread out the cards on a flat surface and mix them together before putting them back into a pile and drawing accordingly

Cause: The spirit(s) you’re communicating with don’t want to provide answers right now Solutions:

Provide an offering or payment for services rendered (especially if you haven’t in a while)

Take a break and try again later

Investigate the root cause of their reluctance and plan accordingly

Never Feels “Right” to Stop Shuffling or to Pull a Card

You’re shuffling. And shuffling. And… shuffling. You’re waiting for a sign to stop and pull cards, and it just never comes.

Cause: Your brain and/or intuitive thinking is exhausted Solutions:

Take a break from divination and other magical practices

Do a grounding exercise to reconnect with your intuitive thoughts and try again

Replenish your energy by eating something, drinking water, having a nap, and otherwise taking care of your mundane needs before trying again

Cause: You aren’t meant to know the answer to the question you’ve asked Solutions:

Ask a different, related question to see if you can get answers

Try again in a few days

Try a different divination tool (different tools can provide different answers with varying levels of detail)

Failing troubleshooting, accept that you can’t know everything that’s ahead and simply plan accordingly (magically and mundanely)

Cause: Blockage between you and the target of the question Solutions:

Determine whether there are missing details about the situation that may help break through

Request spirit intervention to get around the blockage

Ground yourself and clear away any blockages or reluctance within yourself to see and understand the truth

Accept that the target person doesn’t want you to divine about them

If the reading is about a situation, a spell of “true seeing” or clarity may help

Cause: The querent isn’t being fully honest about their question (misleading phrasing, leaving out information that would impact the reading) Solutions:

Clarify the situation with the querent

If divining for yourself, consider all facets of the situation and question before rewording it more clearly and honestly

Talk or journal about the situation before beginning to get as much information as possible

Cause: The spirits you rely on for divination have declined to provide answers Solutions:

Ask why they aren’t answering

Try again later

Try another divination tool

Use another source for answers, such as the universe on the whole or your own deeper intuitive self

Reword the question to be more specific or general, depending

Cause: Something about the cards or shuffle themselves isn’t right Solutions:

Try another shuffle/pull method (spread out cards and pull at random, create piles and take the top of each, etc.)

Try a different deck of cards

Try another type of divination tool

Give the deck a cleanse

Look for a way to “wake up” or “activate” the cards

Too Many Jumpers

Even if you read tarot like I do with all jumpers, having a ton of cards leap out at once can be daunting — and even annoying, if it keeps happening consistently.

Cause: Your deck is too large for your hands, or it’s an odd shape (circular, non-standard number of cards, above-average card size, thick card stock) Solutions:

Try a deck with fewer cards or a more standard shape and paper weight

Create your own deck of cards that fits more securely in your hands

Try a digital deck of cards

Disregard jumping cards completely and only accept cards you’re pulling on purpose

Cause: More possibilities or details about the situation need to be brought to light than expected Solutions:

Try another spread to accommodate the jumpers

Ditch the spread altogether and read the cards as they fall instead

Treat the jumping cards as amendments or extra information about the card whose position you’re drawing for (for example, if drawing for a “Self” position and you get two jumpers before pulling your card in your usual fashion, the two jumpers modify the Official Card)

Cause: Spirits are interfering with the reading Solutions:

Cleanse the area or banish the offending spirits if they’re not ones you’ve welcomed into the space

Request that they chill the heck out and not throw any (or as many) jumping cards

Make an offering to quell their mischief

Pay attention to why they’re acting this way; if you’re not sure, ask for their reasons

Applicable to Now, Not Later

Your reading describes your situation as it is right now with perfect clarity, but it doesn’t reveal anything new or give insights into the future.

Cause: Your current talent lies in revealing the present Solutions:

Practice with readings explicitly about the immediate future

Practice targeting a specific moment in the future, such as a particular future month’s events

Fine-tune your questions to specifically request information you don’t know

Employ spirits or deities to expand your abilities to encompass the future

Try another tool or supplement your reading with another tool

Cause: The question or prompt is too open or general Solutions:

Ask a more specific, carefully worded question

Ask what you mean, rather than a general question around the situation (“What do I need to know about my relationship with X?” vs. “What do I need to know about my love life?”)

Cause: There will be little to no change in the timeframe you’re asking about Solutions:

Expand the range of time you’re asking about

Choose a time further in the future (next year instead of next month, for example)

Make an active choice to change the future if you’re dissatisfied with things as they appear to be now

Can’t Get into the “Right Headspace” for Divination

You’ve sat down and have your tools ready, but you just can’t get into the zone.

Cause: Your environment is distracting Solutions:

Move to a quieter location where you can focus more

Perform a grounding exercise to shut out distractions and focus on your divination

Wear headphones and play music that will help you focus (I suggest unobtrusive music without lyrics, so that it doesn’t impact your interpretations; personally, I use crackly fireside sounds over lo-fi beats)

Cause: Your environment isn’t inspiring you to get into the right headspace Solutions:

Create a space specifically for performing divination, whether permanent or temporary

Curate an aesthetic for your divination space with candles, crystals, plants, divination cloths, and other things that are meaningful to you

Go for a walk in a place that does inspire you and perform a divination there, if possible (cemeteries, parks, museums, rivers, etc.); if not possible to do divination there, absorb as much of the inspiring energy as you can and carry it back to your divination location

Cause: You don’t have the energy for it right now Solutions:

Focus on replenishing your energy with food, water, sleep, and other self-care tasks before divining

Request assistance from spirits to boost or borrow energy

Request a divination from someone else

Cause: You just aren’t in the mood for it Solutions:

Create a ritual that will help you get into your desired headspace for divination (putting on specific accessories, preparing your space, calling on spirits, etc.)

Request a divination from someone else

Walk away and come back to it when you feel more motivated

Scroll through others’ divination posts, watch a video, or listen to a podcast to get inspired to do your own divination

Conclusion

Again, there are countless possible issues and even further countless possible solutions to those issues. In general, walking away for a while, having a rest, practicing asking questions, and becoming more familiar with your tool over time will be the best tools in your belt. And if you can’t find a solution on your own, there’s no shame in crowdsourcing ideas for fixes! Ask your friends, your favorite witchy blogger, your Discord servermates, make a public post for others to comment on, or otherwise reach out. The best ideas often come from conversation.

Feel free to drop questions in the reblogs, replies, or my ask box if you’d like to ask me in particular about your divination troubles! I’m always happy to help out where I can. And if I’ve got no clue, one of my followers or mutuals might have a thought to share!

If you enjoyed this post or my other work, consider tossing a couple dollars in my tip jar! (And check out my commissions for custom spellwork and tarot readings!) Everything goes toward keeping me and my partner afloat on our bills, so it’s very much appreciated!

#aese speaks #divination #tarot #pendulum #troubleshooting #divination troubleshooting #divination questions #beginner divination #witchblr #witch community #divination witch #beginner witch #divination tips #witch tips

143 notes · View notes