#unbearable fic

[tigerf00d]

Sorry for my inactivity all! Uni has been kicking my butt as I get closer to break, but to make up for it ...here’s a lil sneak peek for Unbearable Part 2

•⋆°˖⋅✹⋅˖°⋆•

“Well? Come on, Lockwood I was busy.”

“I could tell. Lucy wanted to know if you two would join us for a movie night.”

“Really? We haven’t had one of those in ages.” You piped up from beneath George, and he rolled off of you properly so you could both speak to the other man.

“Yes, well. I suppose she’s just in the mood for it.”

That caught your attention and you narrowed your eyes. “What are you up to, Anthony?”

He hissed a breath, “Nothing, I swear. Not speaking on her behalf, though.”

You groaned at that piece of information. Lucy was definitely up to something. Begrudgingly, you sat up.

“I suppose I should go see if she wants any help setting up.”

George made a sound of annoyance when you got out of the bed, and you leaned over to capture his lips in a short, sweet, kiss.

“So that’s a yes?” Lockwood clarified.

“Yes,” You stood in front of him, waving your hand to indicate that he should stop leaning on the doorframe so you could move through.

•⋆°˖⋅✹⋅˖°⋆•

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Yo! I was taking a meander through your list again and I realized I never asked: is there a part two to rivals to fwb soap? You got me so angry at his smug fuckboi attitude I need to know how that encounter goes! I really liked how he's genuinely wondering why y'all don't get along but meanwhile we're nursing that neverending grudge of disrespect. I totally knew several dudes like that and oooh it just pisses me off please tell me what happens!

Hey! Aw, I’m glad you’re enjoying my writing 🥰 There absolutely is a second part of (Un)bearable in the works, but it’ll take a minute till it comes out because I’ve been super busy with life stuff + a friend of mine is getting me to design their tattoo. It will be out hopefully sometime this week but can’t guarantee for sure! I can tell you that that version of Soap is sooo fun to write, cause yeah he basically is that annoying popular high-school-boy-like archetype, but even despite it all he’s a competent soldier, looks after you on the field and he’s hot af 😩 but yeah that man, for all his skills on the field and in the bedroom would have the emotional intelligence of a snail 😒😂

[rosylix]

rosy

더 깊이 빠져들겠지 더 조금씩 더 조금씩 넌...

you don't know how to give a hickey.. what are friends for if not to help each other with these things?

pairing: bff!felix × gn!reader

wc: 4.3k

content: nonidol au, fluff, not rly smut but suggestive (mdni pls), shy/inexperienced reader, hickeys (duh), reader is like slightly germophobic idk, a lot of teasing, no use of y/n

a/n: i am so delusional i need to bite this mans neck badly. and yes this is my username. yes it's the loona song. lol

[also read on ao3]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

—

God, you should have just kept your mouth shut.

“You don't know how to give a hickey?”

You shake your head and cover your face, hiding from Felix, who's sitting next to you on his bed.

“Wait, really? Like you've never even tried it on yourself?” he asks.

“No?! What, people actually do that?” Your hands lower slightly to reveal your eyes widening.

He breathes out a laugh and you hit his arm. “It's not funny!”

“It's kind of funny.”

“Shut up. I just— like— I never… whatever.” He poorly conceals a teasing smile. “Shut up or you're literally not getting any cinnamon rolls tomorrow. In fact, lemme ask Hannie if he wants your extras.” You pull out your phone.

Before you can do anything, Felix swiftly moves closer to you, his hand pushing yours down. “Whoa, whoa, hey.. that's a little drastic, yeah? Have I ever told you how much I love and appreciate you? ..And your cinnamon rolls?” He smiles sweetly, batting his eyelashes at you.

You grumble but drop the phone and shake his hand away, pursing your lips to fight a smile. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence.

…And then Felix ruins it.

“But you've kissed people before, right?”

You look at him incredulously. “Did I not say to shut up??” you shriek.

“Is that a no?” He giggles. He fucking giggles. You want to punch his pretty face.

“Lee Felix Yongbok I will smite you down right here where you stand if you don't—”

He puts his hands up in surrender. “Okay wait, sorry, I didn't mean it like that! I just mean, it's kind of like the same thing, you know?”

“The same as what? Giving a h-hickey?” You can't help but stutter a little.

“Yeah like it's… I'll show you.” 

Felix suddenly moves so he's in front of you and gently grabs your arm. He'll show you?! Literally what. What the hell. You let out a small squeak and instinctively lean away from him. 

“Relax, I just meant here,” he touches your arm. “Is that okay?”

You stare at him.

“...Or I could show it on myself but I thought it might be better to feel it? Or I don't have to do it at all of course,” he says quickly.

Oh. It takes a second but the gears in your head start slowly turning enough to respond.

“Oh.” Well, okay, that wasn't as much of a response as you meant to give.

Felix laughs softly and pulls his hand away from your arm. “Sorry, it's too weird, right? No worries.”

But wait, you're actually curious. And isn't it better to figure it out before you inevitably make a fool out of yourself in front of someone else? It makes you a bit nervous but… you're comfortable with Felix. “No, wait, you can uh... show me…?”

His eyebrows raise for a second but then he smiles. “You sure?”

You nod. You still feel a little dazed and you're not really cognizant enough to actually do anything but watch him as he moves closer again. Your arm must feel like a dead weight but he lifts it up and lowers his head, placing a chaste kiss on your inner wrist. “This okay? Usually you um... start with kissing.”

“O-Oh, okay, yeah..” you murmur. What is this sudden weird atmosphere? Maybe you're the only one feeling it. Felix doesn't seem too phased, but you can feel your heart pounding in your chest. Shit, can he feel your pulse right now? You really hope not. 

He flashes a shy smile and places another kiss there, and another a little higher, and another, and it feels way too intimate and sends shivers up your spine. Slowly, he moves up your forearm, stopping right before your elbow.

“So… then.. you just wanna like... suck,” he says before doing just that, right below the crook of your elbow. 

Oh. It feels weird. You must have made a noise or something because he looks up at you through dark lashes, a smile playing on the corners of his lips. You swallow. What the actual hell is happening right now? 

After holding excruciating eye contact for what feels like an eternity, he lets his eyes close. Thank god, because it was making your chest feel tight and weird. You continue to stare as he continues kissing and sucking at your arm, face absolutely burning at the strange sensation.

You've literally lost the freaking plot. You just sit there, no semblance of time passing. After about twenty seconds? Twenty minutes? It literally could have been either — he finally pulls away, with a final kiss and light drag of his teeth against your skin. 

You hold your breath as he sits up and gently maneuvers your arm so you could see the fruits of his labor. He clears his throat. “Um, so… it's starting to show up. See?” he says a little breathlessly.

You nod, unsure what to say when your best friend literally just sucked a hickey onto your arm. A very platonic hickey. Okay. This is fine. This is totally normal right? It must be or he wouldn't have offered. ..Right? You stare down at the bruise starting to blossom on your arm and finally chance a glance at Felix, but he also has his head down, staring at your arm.

Suddenly as if on cue, his head jerks up. When he sees you looking at him he grins. “Cool, right? How does it feel?” 

“Weird…” you mumble. How can he be so nonchalant about this? You want to strangle him.

He nods. “It might be a little sensitive for a bit.” He runs his fingers lightly over the reddening area and you immediately see what he means. It feels tender and tingly under his touch. You shiver. “So.. you think you get how to do it now?” he asks. 

“Um… yeah, I mean, maybe?”

“Do you wanna try?”

“Try? What, on… on your arm?!” 

A slight blush creeps up his face and he shrugs. “Sure, or wherever… my arm, or my neck since that's where it's usually…”

You feel your face heat up as well. “I…”

“I just thought, if you wanna like, practice? But of course you don't have to.” He looks away and shrugs again, seeming a little embarrassed for suggesting it.

You open and close your mouth over and over again like a fish. Like a stupid dumb fish who somehow got itself reeled into this crazy situation. But honestly, the more you think about it, the offer to practice is tempting. When would you get another opportunity like this? Probably never. And… you trust Felix more than anyone else.

“...Is it really okay?” you ask hesitantly.

Felix looks up, blinking a few times before smiling. “Of course. I mean, it's only fair since I did it on you,” he laughs softly. He seems happy but also a little surprised that you actually appeared to be agreeing to his offer. Honestly, you're surprised too.

“Right, um…” you mumble. You shuffle a little closer to him. His hand slides down from your elbow to your hand, rubbing gentle circles on the back of it with his thumb. To reassure you, you think. It's a sweet gesture.

You lean in slightly towards his neck, deciding that if you do it here, you can hide your face from him and avoid any eye contact. “Um, can I...? Where should I…?”

You're so close to him. You can hear his breath catch a little before he points to the side of his neck with his free hand. “Around here,” he says, his voice somehow getting impossibly lower.

You swallow, the reality of the situation suddenly sinking in. As you lean in further you bite your lip, anxious. You need to break this tension somehow. You just can't do this right now. “Um.. um… do you wash your neck?” you blurt out.

Felix leans back a little. “Do I... do I wash my neck? That's what you're worried about?” he laughs.

“Some people probably don't!” you exclaim. Then you sigh. “Ugh, s-sorry, that's stupid, right? You literally licked my arm,” you let out a nervous laugh. “I just— I don't know. It feels icky. Germs.” 

He hums. “You're not stupid.” A pause. “But, I can proudly say I do wash my neck.” He presses his lips together, clearly suppressing another laugh and you just know he's about to tease you. “Wow, how do you even kiss people if you're this worried about germs?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, leaning back into his neck a little to hide your face, your breath hot on his neck. He inhales sharply and seems surprised and, you think, a little panicked?

You instantly pull away. “Felix, are you sure?” You chew on your lip. Is this a bad idea after all?

“Yeah, I-I... yeah, of course,” he says, a little breathless, but you're not entirely convinced. You start to move away fully but he quickly grabs your arm again. “No.. no, wait. Please,” he whispers. You see him visibly try to relax, taking a deep breath in and out. “It's okay. I promise. I was just caught off guard.”

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“No, no, you're good, you're fine. It was me.” Felix clears his throat and rubs your arm reassuringly. 

You take a deep breath. “Okay… so.. here?” You lean back in to where you were previously, breath hitting his neck.

He swallows, and you see it because his Adam's apple bobs up and down right in front of your face. What the fuck. “Yeah. Just go slow and… you can start with kissing if you want. Don't overthink it,” he mumbles, sounding more like he's reminding himself of something.

You nod and slowly, so slowly, you lean in the rest of the way and press your lips to his neck.

You expected him to remain still but a small breathy noise escapes him and he leans his head further back, exposing more of his neck in the process. You swear you can feel his pulse thrumming under your lips. “Good... um.. yeah, just... kiss a little bit and then suck. You can use your tongue, too,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, but you can feel the vibrations against your lips when he speaks. What the fuck.

Your head feels fuzzy. You hesitantly place a kiss on his neck, and then another a little higher, and another, until you reach an area you're satisfied with. You almost want to pull away but remember Felix's words. Right. Just try not to overthink it…

He pulls a breath in through his teeth when you press an open-mouthed kiss and start sucking gently. At the same time, your tongue darts out almost automatically and touches his skin. 

You feel him swallow thickly. “Y-You gotta… harder…” he murmurs. “Or it won't mark.”

You hesitate. “Won't it hurt?”

He blinks hard and shakes his head slightly. “Don't worry… I-I'll tell you if it hurts, okay? Just try. Do it like I did.”

You nod and take a deep breath before trying again, this time in earnest, sucking harder and pulling his skin between your lips and even past your teeth.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, his grip on your arm tightening, “Like... like that. And you can.. use your teeth a little too.” His voice is getting thick, low, and raspy and, god, you feel a little dizzy.

But you want to please him, so you bite down softly and let your teeth run over the area. A quiet, high-pitched whine escapes his lips, and his hand shoots up to cover his mouth, body jerking back slightly. He suddenly seems to realize the noise he made and looks at you, wide-eyed.

You pull back again, a little breathless. “D-Did it hurt?” You really didn't think you bit that hard, but you can't hide the worry in your voice.

His hand drops from his mouth, face flushed and breathing labored. His eyes look a little dialed out. “No... no, it didn't.. hurt.” It seems like it takes all his strength just to say that. “Sorry, I just...” he takes a few more seconds to gather himself, “Um, kinda sensitive…”

…Sensitive? Oh. Oh. It was good. He liked it. You almost sigh in relief. But then… wait. He's sensitive there. He… Your brain isn't working. You find yourself leaning back in to his neck without thinking.

Felix doesn’t protest, just sits back, exposing more of his neck to you. You feel his body shudder when you lightly drag your teeth over the area before attaching your mouth more firmly and sucking at his skin.

He can’t stop the whimper from leaving his throat. “That feels really good.. you’re doing good,” he pants.

Your heart swells from the praise and you double down on your efforts. You hear him try to suppress another whimper but it’s more strained this time. It happens again and again, little noises and whines that you're not sure if he's even aware he's making. Every noise pulls and tugs at something in your stomach.

It feels intimate, so insanely intimate and you think you might combust on the spot if you go any longer. It's a bit nerve-wracking to pull away and face Felix but you force yourself to, licking your lips as you retreat.

Your eyes immediately widen at the sight in front of you. A pretty, deep pink bruise begins to blossom on his neck and your heart skips a beat at the realization that you did that to him.

Felix hasn't said anything. Is he upset? You chance a glance at his face and—

Oh. His eyes are closed and a faint sheen of sweat coats his flushed face, which is pulled taught in a mixture of bliss and something like pain. His chest is heaving, breath coming out in quick gasps. You stare at him, the only thought in your mind being: God, he's gorgeous like this.

He blinks rapidly and seems to finally come to. When he finally refocuses his gaze on you, he lets out a shaky exhale that turns into a weak laugh.

“...Good?” he asks.

Good? Good? Your head is spinning. It's not good. Nothing is good. Life is meaningless and everything you know exists on a floating rock spinning in the void and you think you're gonna pass out and never wake up. It's not good. It's fucking crazy. But you just mumble, “It's… showing up, I think…”

He raises an eyebrow. “That right? Let me see then.”

Felix grabs his phone and pulls up the camera, angling it so he has a clear view of his neck. He lets out a soft whistle, bringing his hand up to feel where the hickey is. You watch dumbly as he presses his fingers on it and lets out a shaky sigh. Then he looks at you and grins before throwing you a thumbs-up. “You did great. It's already pretty dark.”

You actually want to kill him. Your brain is melting and he's acting like this is the most normal afternoon of his life. Maybe it is. Does Felix do this type of thing often? The thought makes you shiver.

You throw your hands over your face. “I-I didn't mean for it to be that—like—ugh…”

His smile softens. “Hey, hey, you don't have to be embarrassed. It's…” he searches your face for a second and suddenly reaches over to gently pull your hands away. “It's not that bad. You did really good. Besides, it’s my neck, yeah?” His tone shifts to more of a teasing one, like he’s amused you’re overreacting a little. It just serves to frustrate you more.

You sigh. “Um… I really—it's really okay..?”

He nods. “Yeah, of course it is. It’s just a little mark, nothing serious.” He looks at you thoughtfully for a bit and you feel yourself getting flushed under his gaze. “You know.. you can try it again. If you want. Just to practice. Or for science, or whatever.” He laughs.

What. You’re stunned into silence. Science? You stare at him incredulously and he just grins back before leaning even further forward. This can't be your Felix. This is actually crazy. 

Felix smiles at your dumbfounded expression. “…Come on.” He brings a hand up to your face and pokes at your cheek softly. “Do it again. Try a different spot. Make it darker.”

He's obviously teasing you. So you're flabbergasted when what comes out of your mouth is, “W-Where..?” Where? Literally what are you saying. Like, where is the nearest exit? Where has your own sanity gone? That's what you should be asking.

He shrugs. “Anywhere. The other side?” He points to the unmarked side of his neck. Then he pushes his shirt down slightly, revealing a sliver of his shoulder and collarbone before looking back at you, eyes expectant with a bit of an impish gleam. “Maybe.. here?” he mumbles.

Your head spins. Oh yeah, you're definitely gonna pass out. It's so over. Life and death and the universe… fucking craziness. You're falling. You're dying. Everything is melting. Nothing's real.

Oh wait, you're actually falling, your head plopping down on his shoulder as you let out an embarrassed groan. 

You hear him laughing softly. “Someone's eager—”

You’re a bit confused but then your eyes focus on the place your head is now laying and—Oh god, you’re right where his shoulder and neck meet. Right where he just told you to suck a hickey. Great.

You instantly lift your head up, face burning. “No, I didn't—I wasn't trying to—”

He brushes the hair out of your face. “Hey, it's okay, I'm not forcing you or anything. Are you overwhelmed?” 

“Um, yeah, but— y-yeah. Sorry.” God. How pathetic do you look right now?

“Don't apologize. I was just teasing. It makes sense to be overwhelmed. It's a new experience.” He sits back and laughs but there’s a bit of a nervous waver to it. “You're fine, seriously. Maybe we got a little carried away, huh?”

“Uhh— yeah….”

He gives you an apologetic look. “I'm sorry for being pushy. Let's just... just forget about the whole thing, yeah? Let's play some video games or something.” He clears his throat.

He's moving on but your head is still spinning. This really is the most normal afternoon for him, you think. Because how is he so chill? Your body is still buzzing with nervous energy and you can't just switch off and forget about it, can you?

You can't. “Uh— Uh, wait—...”

“...Yeah?”

You drop your head back down onto his shoulder. “Um… is it bad if I… kinda…”

You trail off and he doesn’t respond for a few seconds. You don’t dare move, waiting for something, anything. When he finally does say something his voice sounds strained. “Kinda what?” he asks quietly.

“Um.” Fuck. “Nevermind.” You go to draw back but Felix quickly places a hand at the back of your head, preventing any movement.

You hear him exhale quietly. “I don't mind, you know,” he whispers. “You can do it. If you... if you want to.” He slowly starts running his fingers through your hair. “If you wanna practice. The more you practice, the more comfortable you'll be with it, right?”

You hum against his shoulder, the justification mulling around in your head. Of course. Of course that's why you want to. For practice. For science.

He continues. “Yeah, do it. Uh, j-just, I mean— if you want. A-As practice. Try to… see how dark you can make it… or… ” For all the talk he was making before, he stutters now, and you can't help but find it a little endearing. Maybe he's actually a little nervous as well.

Fuck it. Who cares. You've lost the plot. You press your mouth against his skin, giving a few open-mouthed kisses before gently sucking at it.

You hear his breathing stutter and he shifts slightly. “Yeah, j-just…” he lets out a shaky sigh and presses his hand a bit more firmly on the back of your head, bringing you closer to him. The angle is still a bit awkward to reach, so without much thinking, you crawl slightly onto his lap.

“Oh,” he mumbles, his body goes tense for a second before relaxing again. He's completely still, like if he moves you’ll pull away, but eventually his fingers start running through your hair again. It isn't a particularly suggestive position, you're sitting back more towards his knees, but suddenly everything feels charged with tension. 

You hear a low, almost imperceptible groan as you continue sucking lightly from the new angle. “You're doing really well,” he mutters encouragingly. “Just a little more… harder. And like, bite a little, remember?”

Right. You comply and bite down a little. Felix lets out a small whine, hand tightening in your hair. “Good… uh, just like that..” he mumbles. “You can try moving a little more, if you want—”

You don't need to hear more, instantly moving your mouth higher up his neck without much thought. His fingers slide down until his hands are completely resting between your shoulder blades, pressing you closer. Shivers run down your spine where he touches and you attach your lips to the side of his Adam's apple.

“A-Ah…” a shaky moan escapes him, taking both of you by surprise. His hands suddenly jump down to grip your waist tightly. Oh. He seems much more sensitive here. You swear you're dizzy. Maybe you're dying. You think you’re fine with that honestly.

You want to bite him. You let your teeth sink into the skin a little. He lets out a shaky half-laugh, half-groan, tilting his head back and pulling you towards him. “Y-You learn quickly.” A deep pink flush runs high on his cheeks, and his breaths are unsteady. You’ve never seen him like this, so undone, and it's making you feel powerful. You want more.

You decide to give in to that and bite down harder, feeling his body jerk. He moans, breathy, and whispers, “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, that feels so good.” One of his hands moves to the back of your neck, fingers gently grasping the base of your hair. His thumb brushes up against your earlobe and for some reason it sets tingles off all down your spine.

…Does it really feel that good? You can't help but wonder. It mostly just felt weird on your arm but you suppose that's different. Different from your. Neck. Oh fuck, now you're thinking about it. His mouth on your neck. His mouth on your neck. You're floating. You're crashing. Everything is cool. Everything is burning. 

Your brain is practically short-circuiting and you start sucking on the same spot before pulling back just enough to bite down and suck at it again, this time a little harder.

His breath stutters and you feel his head tilt to give you more access. There's another small gasp that comes out as a strained “Fuuuck…” when you continue. You think you're actually delirious at this point.

Then, “W-wait..” he says urgently, his chest heaving. His hand that was on your neck slides down to grab your shoulder now.

“That's… good. We should.. stop. I…” he pants heavily.

You pull away instantly. “O-Okay. Yeah. Sorry.” You feel restless, fidgety, more than just from nerves.

“No, you're fine, god. It's me. I'm getting too…” he shakes his head. “You did really good, I…” He presses his hands against his eyes and takes a few deep, slow breaths.

When he drops his hands he seems mostly back to normal. “Um.” He laughs a little. “We, uh… how's it look?”

You stare at his neck and shoulder. Oh, fuck. In truth, it looks fucking insane. Like he got mauled or something. Oh my god. That was you. What came over you?

He raises an eyebrow at your silence. “Guess I gotta see for myself,” he says and places his hands on your waist to lift you up and off of his lap. As if you weigh literally nothing. What the fuck.

With your head still reeling at how he lifted you like you're nothing, you don't really notice him reaching for his phone to see himself until you hear him suck in a breath.

“Wow… I'm gonna get so many comments tomorrow.”

“What?!” you shriek. Oh god. Of course it'll take a few days to fade. You hadn't even thought about that. The light mark on your arm is easy to brush off as nothing but the rosy hues on his neck are unmistakable.

He laughs. “I'm just kidding. I'll have to.. cover it with makeup I guess. Don't worry.”

“You better…” you mumble, embarrassed.

He hums. “Hmm… Well it isn't really fair... What should I do…” He leans in, studying your flushed face. “Wanna match?” he says with a cheeky grin.

“What?? Felix!”

“I'm joking! Jeez…” He pokes your cheek. “Unless all this blushing isn't just from embarrassment and you're actually into this?” 

Your face is positively burning. “Shut up. You're annoying as hell,” you grumble.

He gasps dramatically. “After I gave up my sanctity for you to practice on me? This is how you treat me?”

You can't help but giggle at his dramatics but you quickly steel your expression and glare at him equally as dramatically.

You're really grateful everything seems to be normal on his end. You're trying your best to act the same, but in truth, you feel like a fucking mess. His joking comment about you being into this… No, definitely not. There's no way. It's probably just because it's your first time doing this with anyone, so of course it's going to feel crazy and weird and confusing. Right? Yeah. But still. Even long after the two of you move on, playing video games and hanging out like normal, you can't shake the feeling that something's weird. Something shifted. You don't know what the fuck it is though. You just try not to think about it.

How are you actually supposed to go back to normal after this?

—

a/n: so on a scale of 1 to 10 how painfully obvious is it that i've never given a hickey in my life.

no but um haha any feedback good or bad would be super appreciated!! pls leave a like or reblog if u enjoyed it makes me so happy. tysm for reading <3

part 2

[hoshiina]

— a guy asks for your number ft. hoshina, narumi, reno

warnings: mentions dick and profanities in hoshina's

[beabnormal24]

Ok fuck it this is my blog and I talk about whatever I want.

The internet is disgusting.

“Charles did not congratulate Carlos in Mexico” yes he did, it’s the first thing he did as he got out of the car, the brush off spotted by the cameras was of Charles being called for weighting so he had to walk past Carlos.

“If Lando Norris wins a championship before Charles I am going to stop watching the sport” do it regardlessly, please.

“Lando said that Max had luck, not talent” yes because the interview was of course completely decontextualised, he said that the safety car being deployed without Max, Esteban and Pierre getting into the pits was luck, not talent. He then proceeded to praise Max’s race and even posted a story to congratulate him because it was objectively a good race.

“Lando is mentally weak and a crybaby” you are incredibly disgusting for this I hope every single day from now you will have to step on legos because calling someone mentally weak is awful. And if Lando is a crybaby you should go listen to all the other radios and interviews (dm me for suggestions, I have a lot).

“The FIA is favouring the British drivers” this is more complex than how simple some of these people are capable to understand. But let’s say that we first had a 10s penalty for Lando, and then the week after a 20s (that was harsh, I agree) penalty for Max. In the Qualifying we had a very delayed flag that did not favour Max and in the race we had a very delayed flag that did not favour Lando. So, no, they’re not favouring anybody, they’re just total crap.

“The media is favouring the British driver” now this is finally a true thing (the media is mostly made of british commentators, look at it!). And yeah, you would not even imagine how much the Italian media is biased about Charles, I might start watching the races without volume because the hate against any other driver that is not Charles is fucking disgusting. So, again, they’re just crap.

“Lando is not champion material” and yet he is consistently in the second place in the championship on the first ever season having a winning car under his hands, the same season in which he managed 7 poles and 3 wins (his first one included) so, yeah, he is obviously champion material.

All of you spreading hate against Max and Lando are foul and I even read people sending Lando death messages, you are the rotten part of this world and you fail to realise that this is just a fucking sport.

Whether Lando or Max wins does not change your life, just cheer for one or be sad for another, that’s okay, but that doesn’t mean you have to fo and hate on anybody that is not Max, or on anybody that is not Lando or, let me say it, on anybody that is not Charles.

They don’t care about us! We’re just the people watching! They care about driving and getting the money for it, there’s not a single one of them that likes the media part, nor a single one of them that likes to give answers to interviewers.

And by the way, saying that the media is biased and then proceeding to cut all of Lando’s words to your liking… let’s just say that a dictionary consultation would be good.

[gremlinisjay]

Minor scissor craft, because it makes your vision sharper.

A drawing for @openphrase123 's fic Four eyes.

A scene where Isabeau looks at himself in the mirror to apply a craft on his eyes. Because I thought of the bad pun and I couldn't think of anything else.

[izel-scribbles]

gguys faroeverse has seized me by the throat and shaken me until i drew this

blame @jashiethh for introducing me to this concept

[flightlessangelwings]

FawKtober 2024 Part 1- Javi Gutierrez

Javi Gutierrez x gn!reader

Kinks- Fingering, slow and soft

Word count- 814

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), soft and fluffy, praise, no plot, pet names, no description of reader, no use of y/n

Notes- Starting off kinktober with some slow and softness with our dear sweet Javi!! Enjoy!!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on new things!

~

“Corazon, you are so beautiful,” Javi murmured in your ear.

“Ja…vi…” you panted as your body felt like an inferno.

“That’s it mi amor,” he moaned, “So beautiful…”

Javi’s fingers were buried deep inside you, feeling your warmth engulf him. You both laid completely naked on his bed while he held you in his strong grip with his other arm. Moonlight illuminated the room through the open window, and it framed your bodies perfectly. Javi’s breath hitched in his throat as he watched you squirm in his embrace as the low light of the moon made you look like an angel.

“Beautiful,” he whispered again as he pumped two fingers slowly, taking his time.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you surrendered yourself to how good his thick fingers felt inside of you. Even with the slow pace, Javi’s movements still drove you wild and you felt the heat build from within you. All you could do was moan and whimper with every thrust of his fingers.

“Feels so good, Javi,” you moaned as you arched your back.

“You feel so good, amor,” he groaned back as he placed a feather light kiss on your temple. 

Your mind swam in bliss as he took his time to feel you. With every thrust of his fingers, Javi lingered inside you for several long moments. He groaned in your ear as your inner muscles squeezed his fingers. Every deep breath you took made you tighten around him. 

Javi kept his eyes fixed on you. He watched as your chest rose and fell with every gasp and deep breath you took. He watched as your mouth dropped open to let out a cry of pleasure every time his fingers buried themselves inside you once more. He listened as your moans filled the room, sending a pulse to his cock every time. 

But his own pleasure would wait. For now, Javi took great pride in how much he pleased you. He almost felt as if fingering you genuinely gave him pleasure as well. 

“That’s it, amor,” he purred as he pumped his fingers in a slow yet steady rhythm, “Do not hold back.”

Letting yourself go, you cried out loudly as Javi continued to whisper encouragement in your ear. “Javi…” you whimpered in between gasps.

“I know,” he kissed the side of your face tenderly, “I got you.”

You bucked your hips in time with his thrusts as Javi pumped his fingers in and out of you. He was in no rush, though. He took his time, slowly thrusting and withdrawing his fingers as he watched you writhe in pleasure. 

“You look like an angel in the moonlight, mi amor,” Javi murmured as he studied your every expression.

You barely even heard him over your own moans. With every thrust of his fingers, Javi brought you more and more pleasure. You drowned in the sea of bliss as you rocked your hips on the bed. 

“Javi… Please…” you begged, unsure of what you negged for exactly.

Leaning over, Javi took your lips with his in a slow yet passionate kiss. He buried his fingers as deep inside you as he possibly could, stilling his body so that his tongue could dance with yours.

“Do you want to cum, amor?” he asked with a grin.

“Yes,” you breathed as your eyes fluttered open to see Javi in the moonlight, “Fuck…” he was so beautiful it took your breath away.

“I want that too,” he replied as he pumped his fingers in and out of you once more. 

You cried out again as he picked up his pace only slightly. It was enough to edge you closer to your goal, but not push you over just yet. Javi both wanted you to cum and didn’t want this to end at the same time. So, he found a middle ground as he continued to finger you to his satisfaction. 

“Javi…” you moaned.

He whispered your name as he stayed fixated on your body, “Mi amor.”

Feeling the heat building your body as Javi hit that sweets spot over and over again, you felt tears fill the corners of your eyes. “Fuck… Javi, I’m close…”

“Show me how beautiful you are when you cum, mi amor,” Javi purred.

“Javi… I love you…” you whimpered just before you climax hit as you came hard on his hand. You gushed into his hand as his thick fingers gilded you through your orgasm. He kept his steady pace until your moans turned to whimpers as you flopped flat on the bed.

Carefully, Javi pulled his fingers out of you, pleasing a series of feather light kisses all over your face as he did so, “Beautiful,” he whispered as he gathered you in his arms, “I love you so much, mi amor.” 

You sighed contently as you turned to your side and settled safely in Javi’s arms.

[umgeorge]

george russell, p3, and oscar piastri, p1, celebrate on the podium, azerbaijan - september 15, 2024

[tigerf00d]

So I definitely have a Part 2 planned for unbearable! I’m working on a request & then I’ll get right on that. Thank you to everyone who’s left kind words!! They mean the world to me :D

[prolix-yuy]

A Gift of Light and Joy

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader "Conejita" (Plus Sized Reader)

Summary: Javi wants to spoil you, but his good intentions put you in a difficult position.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected PiV sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), cumming on someone, minor cum play, negative body image, toxic shopping culture, some angst, Javi is clueless about women's clothes shopping but he makes up for it.

Notes: Happiest of happy birthdays to my darling, my sweet friend, the indescribable @ezrasbirdie! I was planning to post this around November but I couldn't pass up a chance to give you a fun little Javi present. I am so lucky to know you and get to yell about stories together!

While in the two previous stories Conejita wasn't described as plus sized, I always headcanoned that she was from the start. There are a couple references to the previous stories, but you can also dive in right here! Like most stories this is me working through a few bad experiences of my own, and while Javi may be a little thick in the beginning he will get to make up for it.

Cross-posted on AO3

Continued from On the Right Flight and A Bearable Weight

“I have a surprise for today.”

Javi’s gleeful face ramps up your own excitement as he ushers you into his car. 

“I thought we were going to have a picnic?” you ask as he flops into the drivers seat, curls bouncing almost as much as he is.

“That was my distraction,” he says, picking up your hand and kissing the back of it. Your heart still flutters, even months after that first one at the stroke of midnight. 

Dating Javi had, of course, been just as much of a step off the deep end as you thought. Even being close by now that you’re back in LA for work and he’s hobnobbing with the Hollywood elites, some days getting dinner feels like making a doctor’s appointment. Matching schedules down to the half hour, groaning when something comes up. But it’s all worth it when the stars align and he’s on your doorstep with all-encompassing hugs and breathless kisses. 

At first Javi’s dates were low-key and low-stress - a day at the beach, movie nights of course - but as you got closer and closer he started to take you places that had dress codes and extravagant names. He always beamed like you were the only one in the room, but you’d been in enough spaces you didn’t belong to feel eyes and judgements skitter across your back. 

You could be poised, and knowledgeable, conversational and charming, but nothing changed how you looked. Javi was always dripping in Armani, Burberry, Brioni. Your paltry wardrobe didn’t stand a chance. Every new art show or movie premiere sent you running to a department store to find a new dress (pretty girls on their rich boyfriend’s arm didn’t reuse eveningwear) and inevitably you’d be pinched or poked or squeezed into something not made for you. Long minutes spent in the bathroom wondering if Javi would notice the bra strap divot in your shoulder, or the dark lines of seams pressed along your skin. Pretending you enjoyed slipping into a silk robe every time you spent the night was more palatable than the embarrassment of wriggling out of shapewear in front of him, or refusing to let him undress you in case a zipper pulled too tightly. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t hide your discomfort as well as you imagined. Sometimes you caught Javi’s concerned look when the built-in corset made you squirm in your seat, or when you winced at the chafe of your heels. 

So when he parks his car on Rodeo Drive he’s the picture of pride and sunshine. You, on the other hand, leave your stomach on the sidewalk behind you.

“I wanted to do something special,” he’s saying, muffled words bubbling up as your feet trudge to a gleaming glass door. There’s security inside, sales people scattered around holding hangers up to discerning buyers. “And before you say anything about money, I don’t want you to look at a single price tag.” Javi turns your face to him with a gentle nudge, breaking your doom stare through the glass. “I want to spoil you a little. You never let me spoil you.” His pout brings a little smile to your face, dipping in to kiss him. 

“We can do anything Javi. I don’t need things,” you try to deflect, hoping you can convince him away from the inevitable rejection you’ll receive inside. 

“Just one time?” he asks again, soft brown eyes imploring you. How could you say no? 

“Okay,” you breathe out, steeling yourself for the worst as Javi beams back at you.

“I thought this place would match what you like,” he says as two suited doormen guide you inside. It flutters your heart. He’s right, you’ve always liked this designer’s silhouettes and styles. It’s exactly what you’d choose…if you were several sizes smaller.

“Hi, do you have an appointment?” a small-framed woman with black plastic glasses and a bouncy ponytail asks. She’s dressed head to toe in the designer’s current collection, sleek black throughout with stylish red earrings that dangle down her neck. Her smile isn’t as cold as you might expect. You’d heard horror stories of snide sales people practically insulting clients to get them to spend more. 

“Yes, Gutierrez,” Javi offers smoothly, placing a grounding hand on your lower back. “For my girlfriend.” You shoot him a lopsided smile. He doesn’t get the chance to say it often, but when he does you love the way girlfriend rolls off his supple lips.

“Ah, yes, miss…” the sales woman begins, letting you offer your name. You catch a fleeting look of concern cross her face. Her cheek sucks in like she’s chewing on it, smile still bright but eyes more cautious.

“My name is Melanie, if you’d like to follow me to your consultation space,” she says, leading you and Javi to a curtained-off partition with several chairs, a changing room and a pedestal that makes your stomach flip. 

“So what are you here to find today?” Melanie asks. Javi settles in a chair, spreading his knees and leaning back so sexily you can almost forgive him for the anxiety pumping through your veins. 

“Whatever my Conejita desires,” he says, and you’re torn between smacking or straddling him. Melanie turns her attention to you and you wrack your brain.

“I guess…a dress would be nice?” you say. Javi reaches out to squeeze your hand reassuringly, adoration so clear in his eyes. He truly has no idea it’s the most likely to have ease in the sizing. You might make it out with one and blame it on not wanting to overspend. Javi would get his wish, and you would make it out with most of your ego unscathed. Win-win.

Melanie leads you out of the space and into the clothing racks. The choices are sparse, a few items hung per rack in an exclusivity motif. As soon as you’re out of earshot she starts chatting.

“Your boyfriend is very sweet to be treating you today.”

You hum and nod, chewing the inside of your lip. Some of the pieces are very pretty, flattering cuts and classic shapes, but none of the silhouettes look large enough for you. 

“Does he…do this often?” Melanie asks carefully, and when you look at her you see an understanding that soothes you ever so slightly.

“First time.”

“A surprise.”

“Yeah, pretty big one.”

Melanie smiles at that, arms wrapped around an iPad. Her nails are very pretty tapping against the device.

“Let’s take a look back here,” she says, leading you off the main floor and further into the store. The racks are fuller back here, but not nearly enough to make you think success is within reach. Your chest tightens, but you put on a cheery smile when Melanie turns back to you.

“Men are just…so thick sometimes,” she sighs, and the sharp change makes you bleat out a laugh. “I’m sure Mr. Gutierrez has the best intentions in mind…”

You nod and finish her sentence.

“...but you don’t have anything here for me.” Her hands clutch at the tablet again, going white around the knuckles.

“We might have a few things, but they’ll be simpler. Not like the current collection.”

“Simple is fine,” you rush to say, her smile making your own come to the surface. 

“Okay, let me go digging. I think we can make it work. I’m…” She pauses to clear her throat, lowering her voice. “I’m sorry this isn’t fun. I hate it. I just want everyone to feel happy in their clothes, not…left out.”

You turn your comfort to her, squeezing her shoulder.

“I appreciate you trying to help.”

Melanie scurries off to the backroom, leaving you on the bustling floor with ten other women who could slip into anything off the rack no problem. Weaving aimlessly, you peruse the dresses. Each one holds promise, which only makes it more disappointing when the tag numbers run too small. But you’re keeping positive, searching for Melanie’s bouncing ponytail returning with anything. You’d gush over a mumu. 

“Excuse me,” comes over your shoulder, and you turn to another sales woman hovering expectantly behind you. Her brow is lifted high, barely waiting for you to shift before tugging a garment off the rack. She turns quickly, but in the split second before you see it. That stomach-dropping look that screams good luck slathered in sarcasm. Your throat clenches, hands coming to your middle and you wish you could just collapse into yourself like a dying star. 

“Fuck this,” you whisper, tears shining in your eyes as you hurry back to the consultation space. You’ll tell Javi you have a headache, that you’re too hungry to shop right now, anything to convince him to get the hell out of here. 

“Cone…” he says as you burst in, snatching up your purse and steeling your voice. The sunshiney excitement trades quickly for concern. “What is wrong? I promise the cost…” 

“Actually, I don’t really…I don’t…” You try to get out your white lies with an even tone but when Javi cups your face in his large hands your composure crumples. A fat tear breaks rank and rolls down your face, Javi’s eyes widening with shock.

“Conejita, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” His eyes darken a fraction. “Did someone say something to you?”

Your heart skips a beat, which you blearily file for later introspection. Resting your head on his shoulder, he envelops you in his arms. Orange peel and musk surrounds you, Javi’s soothing hands traveling up and down your spine. When your breaths stop warbling you pull back, wiping your face.

“I’m sorry…” you start to say, but Javi moves you to sit. He drops to a kneel, clasping your hands in your lap.

“No, Conejita, you are not apologizing for one second. What has upset you? Was it someone out there?” When you shake your head, his eyes soften. “Was it me?”

“Oh Javi,” you sign, squeezing his hands. Your lashes are still wet with tears, but you can see his dread so clearly. “I really appreciate this, all of it. I’m sure it’s flattered lots of people before. But I’m…me.” You release a big breath, the pain of keeping all your anxieties in finally easing. “I can’t shop at places like this, Javi, I don’t…they don’t make clothes like this for people my size.” 

Javi’s concern smashes into confusion.

“But they must have seamstresses in the back. They take your measurements, no? Find an acceptable piece and tailor it?”

The laugh you bark out is watery but it does raise the corners of your lips.

“Men have it so easy,” you bemoan. “I think the closest size I saw was still in the single digits. And even then, the numbers rarely mean anything.” Javi’s confusion only deepens.

“But how do you know what to buy? Surely the measurements are the same. Inseam, waist, sleeve length, how can it be so different?”

“Javi, I’m rarely the same size at the same store.”

Javi sputters. “That’s madness. How does anyone put up with that?” 

You giggle lightly, the tears finally receding. “I just go to the department stores. More variety, more sizes. No pushy sales people. Though Melanie is really nice.”

“But you are still uncomfortable,” he says, stroking his thick thumbs along the back of your hands. “I did not want to say anything, but I noticed. You do not seem to feel good in the nice things you wear.” 

You shrug. “It’s not perfect, it’s just…easier.”

His eyes implore up at you. “I wanted you to feel good with me.” Your heart patters, Javi’s face falling. “But I have made it worse. Please forgive me, Conejita, I truly did not know this would be so painful.”

You pat Javi’s cheek and give him a quick kiss. “I know, Javi. I know you didn’t mean for it to be.” A tap on his nose makes him smile. “But next time, when the lady doth protest too much, maybe listen?” Javi’s cheeks pink as he nods.

“Shakespeare has always been wiser than me,” he jokes as he helps you back to your feet. He leads you back to the front of the store with one hand on your back, and for a few seconds you do feel like the most beautiful person in the room. Women looking at you in awe, Javi’s fingers pressing in a way that’s subtly possessive. You could be lady Godiva riding a Shetland pony and not feel a lick of shame when he looks at you like that.

“Mr Gutierrez!” Melanie calls as she hurries up to the front to intercept. Her hands are empty, which is a relief.

“Thank you for your help, I just don’t think there’s anything for me here,” you say in a practiced tone that makes Javi pull you closer and Melanie’s eyebrows knit in the middle. She nods, extending a folded piece of paper to Javi. 

“I’m sorry they didn’t have something for you today,” she says, and Javi takes the proffered paper. He leads you out of the store and into the fresh sunlight of the street. Unfolding it, he raises an eyebrow then secrets it away in his jacket pocket.

“What was that about?” you ask, tucking your arm into his elbow. He shakes his head.

“Nothing important. What is important is going to get some lunch, then we are going driving with the top down and dinner at my place after.” 

“Javi…” you say with a little warning, but he tuts at you as his long stride pulls you down Rodeo drive.

“I know, I know what you will say, but bear with me because I am learning how to love you the right way. Today was not so good, but I would like to try and make it better.” He slows down when he catches your wide eyes and dazed smile. “What? What have I said now?”

“That you love…” the last words disappear on the wind as Javi’s smile crinkles his eyes.

“Of course, Conejita. Dios mio, of course I love…I love you,” he rushes out, barely able to finish before crashing his lips into yours. Wide palm cupping your head, you couldn’t care less that you’re making pedestrians part around you. Javi loves you, even if he’s a little clumsy about it. But when someone wants to learn to love you the right way…how can you not love every atom of them back?

The following weekend finds you in one of the lesser-used rooms in Javi’s house, sitting on a chair by the window. He deposited you there with a cappuccino and a promise to wait, so now you’re doing just that. Javi does love surprises, but you never expected Melanie to walk in the door.

“Oh my god, hi,” you manage to get out, standing up to shake her hand but are treated to a tight hug instead. She looks brighter, lighter than the last time you saw her, black ensemble traded for a pale blue button-up and floral patterned pants. 

“Javi told me it was a surprise, and I want it on the record that after this one he’s not allowed any more!” You sit across the little cafe table from her with visible confusion.

“I am a bit…lost…as to the surprise,” you giggle out nervously, which has Melanie opening a smart black bag and taking out folios and fabric swatches.

“I’ve been trying to get my stylist business off the ground and…” She pauses for a moment before making genuine eye contact. “And if there’s anything I was meant to do, it’s find people clothes that make them happy. So I offered him my services and he’s…well, he’s been very generous.”

Pride swells in your chest. So Javi.

“So what we’re going to do today is figure out what you like, don’t like, colors, styles, and then I’ll start building your wardrobe. Sound good?” Melanie’s smile is contagious.

“Sounds amazing.”

You don’t quite understand every step of the process. At one point she drapes color swatches on your chest like a bib and you can’t help but giggle. But it’s fun, maybe for the first time you can remember. She writes down that you hate side-seam zippers and skirts cut above the knee. That you love color but not too garish. And when you catch Javi pacing outside the glass door to the patio, peeking in anxiously every five minutes, your smile softens. She probably doesn’t write that part down. That’s written on your face. 

You can’t stop twirling in the mirror, inspecting from every angle. You try to scrutinize, but you can’t find a single thing wrong.

It’s perfect.

After the wardrobe cleanout, the basics overhaul, and the lengthy plan Melanie made, she asked a thrilling question. 

“What’s the first piece you’d like me to find?”

“I’ve always wanted a little black dress,” you replied, and her smile almost eclipsed her face.

“I have the perfect one in mind.”

She wasn’t kidding. It’s full and flouncy, smoothing in all the places you normally criticize and accentuates your figure in the best ways. The fabric is sumptuous under your fingers, just the right weight without dreaded sheerness. You can imagine yourself with hair done up, your favorite lipstick, Javi’s hand on your lower back, that possessive glint in his eyes. All of the excitement makes you spin three more times, the room tilting briefly before you catch Javi standing in the doorway.

“Hey!” you call out breathlessly, smoothing the skirt again. “It’s the first thing Melanie’s sent over. I…oh my god, I love it so much.” You turn to look in the mirror again, and in the reflection you see Javi’s mouth parted, eyes dragging over you. His fingers are rubbing together at his sides and…is he clenching them?

“She took everything I said and just found the most perfect dress.” Your thumb catches in the fabric and you spin back around to gasp, “And it has pockets!”

You’ve barely taken your hands out of them when Javi is on you, all greedy mouth and firm hand on the back of your head. His tongue demands on your lips, slipping inside when you gasp for him. Arm banding around your back, he steadily walks you backwards towards the bed. 

“Conejita, mi amor, eres tan hermosa,” he pants, his wandering hand settling on your ass and squeezing. It crackles between your thighs, white-hot arousal at how he holds you. Javi has always been generous in bed, and highly competent, but this is a side of him you haven’t seen. Maybe briefly when he asked you if someone bothered you at that awful boutique store. 

Before you can rationalize anything further he guides your hips down to the bed, teetering on the edge. He quickly drops to his knees and dives his hands under the skirt, sliding one knuckle along the seam of your pussy. 

“Javi…” you squeak out, but his touch leaves to curl around your underwear and yank them down your legs. The rip of a seam makes arousal gush between your legs, spreading them instinctually. He licks his lips before fisting your skirt above your waist and ducking down to taste you for too brief a moment. Your hips buck, teeth nipping at your inner thigh before he lifts up to kneel between your legs. 

“Javi, the dress,” you caution, and with a sweeter smile he shifts his knees to make sure the fabric isn’t trapped between. When his eyes meet yours again he plants a hand by your head and laps between your lips, slow and sensual. The clink of his buckle coming undone aches deep in your core, fisting his button-up across his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry, Conejita, I just…cannot control myself when you look so beautiful,” he confesses as his fingers tease at your entrance. A choked whimper ekes out as he opens you up on two, pumping mercilessly into your clenching heat. He swears in Spanish into your neck, and your quiet whines grow to moans when his thick cock begins thrusting into the crease of your hip. His panted breaths start to take on a rumble, then a growl as his fingers match his shallow thrusts. Overwhelmed, you grasp at what words will make him give in.

“Javi, please, oh my god, please fuck me,” you finally manage, rocking your hips with his frantic pace. 

“You’re ready for me?” he husks, your vociferous affirmations drawing his fingers out to leave you achingly empty. He slicks his cock with you, lining up and pressing just the head in before he plants his hands by your head and just…looks at you.

“Dios mio, eres una diosa,” he breathes, all of the sweet man you love. Grabbing around his wrists, you roll your hips down to sink more of him inside. He stretches you so deliciously, filling your cunt and lungs.

“Take it, Javi,” you rasp, head tossed back. “Show me I’m yours.”

Javi bites his lower lip and looks at you with a depth you crave. Infatuation and devotion and a desire so hungry you want to sate him for hours. In a dizzying flick of his wrists he now presses yours into the bed. 

“Mine,” he purrs, and the snap of his hips as he buries himself flush draws a lusty cry from your lips. “My beautiful Conejita,” he grits out, grinding his hips deep to press punishingly into your g-spot. You writhe under him, legs clamped around his waist as he slides out just enough to punch back in. “You are mine, aren’t you?”

“Oh fuck, Javi, yes, I’m yours,” you beg, and it’s exactly what he needs to begin fucking you earnestly, scooping his hips to drive deeper and deeper. The friction of his grind strums your clit just right to tremble around him. Pinning you with a rumble, he fucks you into the mattress until his wandering hands can’t stop from palming your breast, rolling your nipple through the fabric. The spike of pleasure urges you to meet him stroke for stroke, riding him just as hard back. He grabs your chin just firmly enough to coax more slick to coat his cock, guiding you back to his demanding mouth. He steals your breath, sucking your lower lip between his teeth and groaning when you shudder around him.

“Not going to last, mi amor,” he whispers, lacing your fingers together as his thrusts lose rhythm. 

“Cum on my pussy,” you plead, and with a strung-out moan he pulls out just quick enough to cover your mound with his hot spend. It drips lewdly, sliding to gather in the crease of your thighs. His eyes are fixated on it, the brand of his lust sticky on you. Your orgasm tips over as he slides his thumb through his cum to press firmly on your clit. His name is all you can manage as pleasure laps over your skin, his touch grounding as he praises you over and over.

In the afterglow, Javi folds the length of your skirt well above the mess he made. 

“I will be sure to send this to drycleaning before you want to wear it,” he says, pulling a juddery giggle from your chest. He stands oh shaky legs and you glimpse his wet cock in the vee of his open pants, realizing you just fucked like college kids so horny for each other they couldn’t even undress properly. It makes you giddy as he brings over tissues to clean up, careful not to leave any of his spend where it could stain. When he’s finally satisfied he drops down on the bed, opening his arms for you to snuggle into. Once fitted together, eyes heavy, he murmurs in your ear.

“It wasn’t the dress.”

You hum sleepily, sitting up to look into his sated face.

“You are most beautiful when you are happy,” he says, the earnestness earning him another sweet kiss.

“I am very, very happy Javi.”

He doesn’t need to tell you that he is. It’s written on his face, and in his heart. 

END

[ladamedusoif]

El Mar (The Sea)

Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader - Part of the Summer Lovin' 24 Fic Event

Prompt: By The Sea #1

Word count: 6.4k (this got out of hand)

Content Notes and Warnings: Explicit; 18+ MDNI; set after the events of TUWOMT; we can assume things just didn’t work out with Gabriela because in this house we love her; no physical description of Reader beyond her clothes; references to implied infidelity (not involving Javi or Reader); references to alcohol consumption; Reader understands at least some Spanish; Reader can swim; likely errors about yachts and how they work because I have never been on one; some angst but so much softness; friends to lovers; oral sex (f receiving); mutual masturbation; safe PiV sex; did I mention the softness

A/N: For @pedgito, @amanitacowboy, and @chaotic-mystery's wonderful Summer Lovin’ fic challenge event, with love and SO MANY apologies for how goddamned late this is. (This is what happens when you are an overthinker and a perfectionist).

And huge love and thanks to @doscharolastras for being such a supportive beta for this, and for everything.

(header by @pedgito and divider by @cafekitsune)

“You’re a great guy, Javi, truly.” Etta hastily rolls up a couple of her light slip dresses and pushes them into her Longchamp weekend bag. “But it’s over. I hope you find someone who’ll make you happy, who’ll love what you love, who’ll love you for you. I mean that.”

Her eyes scan the room for any belongings she might have left behind, but purposefully avoid the perplexed face of her boyfriend of almost a year. Javi Gutierrez is still struggling to make sense of it all. One minute he was kissing Etta on the cheek, leaving her on a sunlounger by the hotel pool while he went for a stroll along the Croisette, keen to soak up the atmosphere of the Cannes Film Festival. The next, he was standing in their comfortable hotel suite, watching his girlfriend packing her bags.

”Etta, amor, please wait. Please. We…we are going on the yacht tomorrow, remember? A week on the Mediterranean, just you and me.” He wrings his hands, helpless. “Maybe it is just what we need, no? Time together, time to see how we can save what we have.” Javi’s dark brown eyes sparkle with a mixture of hope and heartbreak. 

She exhales and zips her bag, slipping it over the handle of her large suitcase. “Is this even worth saving, Javi? Seriously?”

Javi, blindsided, is lost for words. All he can do is repeat her name, over and over, pleading, disbelieving, as Etta gives him a chaste little kiss on the cheek and leaves the room.

Later, lying on the bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling, Javi realises that in all her hasty explanations and excuses, she never once looked him in the eye.

You smiled when you opened the file with details of the client for the next week. Javi Gutierrez was a regular, usually hiring a yacht at least once a summer for a week or two of sailing around the Med. You took a certain satisfaction in the fact that he always requested that you be his chief stew (short for chief steward; in non-yacht speak, the person responsible for managing everything from dinners to room requests to on-board entertainment). 

He told you why, once. “You are…what is the term? Unbothered? It does not matter who is on the yacht, how famous or not, you are wonderful to everyone.”

You chuckled. “People are people. My job is to make sure you all have a perfect holiday.”

You suspected that Javi was thinking of the time when, on his first trip, you had somehow managed to transform a stateroom into a dojo at very short notice - and had not batted an eyelid when it became clear that it was a special request for Nicolas Cage. 

You knew you were nursing a little crush on him, there was no doubt. But that’s all it was - a little crush, harmless, inconsequential. After all, anyone would end up with a little crush on Javi Gutierrez if they met him. 

This year, Javi had hired a yacht and plotted an itinerary that would pick him up in Cannes, after the film festival, and travel across the Mediterranean to its final destination: his home in Majorca, docking in Palma. The reservation was for two guests. You arched an eyebrow, swiping down to the section of the form marked “Special Requests”.

”Mr Gutierrez and his guest (Etta Balbay, actor, model) will be celebrating their first anniversary as a couple on this trip. Please arrange for flowers and champagne in the stateroom, and intimate meals and atmosphere.”

Javi generally kept the details of his personal life close to his chest, though you knew that it had been a while since he’d had a serious relationship. You smiled as you opened up your go-to contact list for florists in Cannes, heart gladdened that this kind, funny man had finally found someone to love.

***

Javi can’t remember how long he’s been lying on the bed, fully clothed. He must have slept for a while, he thinks - the light creeping through the drapes is bright and fresh, suggesting early morning. He reaches for his phone. Seven AM. 

He had tried calling Etta a few times in the hours after she left, but the calls went unanswered. Eventually, he got a voice note from her.

“Javi, sweetheart, I think it’s best for both of us if we just do no contact for a while. I’ll make arrangements with your people to get my things from your place in LA.”

He listens to it again and flops back onto the bed. 

He’s woken the next time by the hotel room phone, ringing furiously. He looks at his wristwatch, this time. 

Eight thirty. 

“Hola, hello?” Javi’s voice is heavy and groggy.

“Javi?” Pablo, his assistant, sounds frantic on the other end of the line. “I’ve been trying to reach you! Did you two forget about the early departure?”

Javi rubs his face and runs his fingers through his curls. “Early departure?”

“The yacht, Javi. You’d arranged to leave at eight, remember?”

The fucking yacht. He’d completely forgotten. 

Pablo’s impatience hangs in the air. “What do you want me to do, Javi? I’m at the marina now, they called me when you didn’t show up.”

Javi would really rather curl up under his duvet and sleep for a thousand years. But he also really wants to go home. And maybe a week at sea will clear his head.

“Uh, tell them I am very sorry, I overslept… I will be there in half an hour, okay?”

Pablo sighs. “Sure.”

In Javi’s frantic state, he neglects to tell Pablo he is travelling solo. And his frazzled assistant doesn’t notice that his boss has used first person singular “I”, not “we”.

At the marina, Pablo exhales and slips his phone in his pocket. “He’s really sorry, he overslept, but he’s en route. That okay with you guys?”

You nod. “I’ll let the captain know, as he might want to replot the course depending on weather, but that’ll be fine. Mr Gutierrez knows where we are?”

Pablo sighs, again, and whips out his phone, tapping rapidly. “He does now.”

***

You smile and straighten your blouse when you see the black car pulling up at the end of the jetty, waiting for the familiar figure to emerge. Javi, typically, insists on helping the driver with his luggage as he makes his way to the boat. 

“Mr. Gutierrez, welcome back! A pleasure to host you, as always, and I’m looking forward to meeting Ms Balbay, of course…” You scan the jetty, wondering where Javi’s guest is. 

Javi’s face falls and he takes off his wayfarer sunglasses. “I am afraid that Etta…Ms Balbay will not be joining me on this trip, after all. We are no longer together.”

His eyes, usually so bright and warm, are filled with sadness. He looks exhausted. 

“Oh, well… that’s absolutely fine, Mr Gutierrez. Let me take your bag, please.” You turn on your best, brightest smile. Professional, always, to the last. 

He offers a slight smile in reply and follows you on board the yacht. “If you do not mind, please call me Javi? I know you like to be professional, but…we know each other so well now, no?”

You gesture towards the main living area and Javi enters, taking a seat on one of the large, comfortable couches built into the room. 

“Of course, Mr Gut- I mean, of course, Javi. I’ll bring this to your stateroom - would you like some refreshments? Coffee, maybe?”

He nods, slowly, and you head towards the staterooms, making a mental note to tell the on-board chef that he would be cooking for one, not two, and that -

Oh, shit. 

The stateroom has, per Javi’s original request, been decorated with a beautiful, tasteful floral arrangement. You had freshly opened a bottle of Perrier-Jouet champagne just prior to Javi’s scheduled arrival time, and it stands in an ice bucket alongside two vintage champagne coupes. And in front, an elegant, hand-written card wishes the now-defunct couple a happy anniversary. 

Shit. At least you’d got here first. Swiftly, you move to remove any trace of the special additions before he sees them, hoping to spare his feelings. Frantically, you search for the champagne cork - a futile exercise, seeing as you’d never manage to squish it back into the neck of the bottle, but you keep trying to find it.

”If I could at least save this…”, you mutter to yourself, holding the dark green bottle as your eyes scan the stateroom.

”Is it even worth saving?”

Javi stands just inside the door, a sad half-smile on his face. 

“Oh, Javi, I’m sorry, I was just -“

He shakes his head, his curls noticeably mussed and unattended to this morning. “Please, no apologies necessary. You were not to know. But thank you for thinking to tidy…this away.” He points at the champagne. “Please. You take it.”

He won’t hear your protestations, your insistence that you cannot drink on duty and won’t have enough time to enjoy the vintage champagne either way. When he finally accepts the bottle, he has one condition.

”You must come and have a glass with me on the deck this evening. Please? We can talk about the festival. You like film, don’t you?”

“Like” was an understatement. You adore cinema. And, as you nod your head, you think to yourself how nice it was that Javi remembered your passion for it. 

“Well…okay. But one glass and one glass only for me. I have a ship to run, after all. And now, Javi, I’ll leave you to get unpacked while I check with chef about lunch.”

Javi offers a sweet, semi-formal little bow as you leave the room.

***

You held fast to your limit of one glass of champagne. Javi did not. 

As he retired to the stateroom that night, a little the worse for wear, he thought about Etta, about whether there had been signs that something was wrong, whether he had misread the extent of her commitment to him. 

She had seemed…different, the last few months. Nothing major, just - a little distant. She put it down to work, juggling some minor acting gigs with modelling, and with the strain of spending most of her time many thousands of miles from Javi. That’s why he’d invited her to Cannes, planned the yacht trip. Time together, away from the demands of their careers. 

He’s haunted by her words, her wish that he would find someone who “loved you for you.” What did that mean?

He’d started to speak to you about her, sitting in comfortable seats on the deck as the sun set, his tongue loosened by the champagne. You were typically comforting, kindly suggesting that maybe Etta might just need space, that this might not be the end. 

It would be tempting to believe that, Javi muses, as he brushes his teeth. He spits out his toothpaste and reaches for the mouthwash, studying his features in the bathroom mirror. He searches his eyes, as if seeking some hint that hope was an option, that something could be salvaged from the wreckage.

Try as Javi might, he saw only exhaustion. Deep down, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself, he knew that Etta was never coming back.

***

After a couple of days at sea, Javi seemed a little brighter. He read, he sunbathed, he wandered amiably around the yacht chatting to you and the other two members of the tiny crew: Tony, the taciturn chef who was desperately homesick for his wife and new baby and spent every free moment on video calls with them; Andres, the ship’s engineer; and Vico, the captain. He asks you, shyly, if you would mind sharing lunch and dinner with him. 

“For company,” he explains. “And you are such good company.” 

Technically, you probably shouldn’t do it. But he’s on his own, and his girlfriend has left him, and so you take your main meals together each day. You talk about cinema, about travel; you tell him about the history of some of the places you can see from the deck of the yacht; he thanks you every time for being so kind and generous with your time.

”All part of the service,” you say. But in truth, he’s very good company too.

You see him deep in conversation with Vico one morning, over a simple breakfast of tostadas with sliced tomato and olive oil. He beams when he sees you approaching. A couple of days of sun and sea air has deepened his tan, brought his freckles to the fore, and picked out lighter strands in his hair. The loose blue linen shirt and white pants he’s wearing enhance his golden aura.

”We are going to make a little stop today, to swim,” he explains, glancing up at the bright sky. “It’s so beautiful, but oof, I need to cool down.” He mimes fanning himself, eyes rolling dramatically, and you laugh.

”Perfect. Let me know a likely time and I can reschedule lunch or dinner.”

As you walk back into the bowels of the yacht, you hear Javi calling you and turn to see him trying to catch up with you. 

“Everything okay?”

”Sí, sí.” He catches his breath and smiles that bright smile again. 

Yep, you still have a little crush on him.

”I was going to ask… would you like to join me? You have been working so hard, and it’s so hot, think of the cool water!”

He gestures with his broad hand towards the glittering blue of the Mediterranean, like a salesman making his pitch. 

It is tempting. You are somewhat used to the summers on the boat, but you still find your blouse damp and clinging to you by the end of the day, your body crying out for a cool shower. 

But he is a guest, and you are the chief stew.

”I’m not sure if I can, unfortunately - I am at work, after all…”

Javi looks crestfallen, dark eyes at their most puppyish. “Could it be a break? You break for lunch, no?”

Javi Gutierrez, you’re a hard man to say no to.

”Yes, I do, but…”

Those puppy eyes work their magic. A couple of hours later, you find yourself in the dark green swimsuit you had packed for this job, just in case it was needed, standing on the deck beside Javi. You realise, with a jolt, that you’ve been checking him out - though it’s hard not to. He’s still wearing his blue shirt, but a couple more buttons are undone now, exposing the breadth of his tanned chest. The white pants have been replaced by a pair of tight navy swim shorts that highlight his strong legs and leave very little to the imagination.

You avert your eyes and blame the heat in your face on the bright sun.

He peels off his shirt and you feel yourself heating up even more. “Ready?”

“Javi, you go first. I’m… I need to get up the courage.”

He raises his eyebrows and extends a hand towards you. It takes you a moment to realise he means for you to take it. 

“Come. We will jump together, sí?”

“If I drown, this is your fault.”

He laughs, then turns somber. “I will take care of you.” 

He means that. 

You grip Javi’s big, strong hand securely. 

“Okay. Uno, dos, tres…”

You shriek with joy as you leap into the unknown, Javi still holding your hand. The cool water of the Mediterranean shocks your system as the two of you are submerged, rapidly rising again to the surface. 

His smile is as bright and warm as the sun itself when he reappears from under the water, hair slicked back by the waves. Javi looks born to the sea, confidently treading water as you compose yourself. 

“Es bueno, sí?”

You nod, still working through the shock of the cooler water, and a huge smile creeps across your face. “It’s incredible. I didn’t realise how much I needed that.”

He laughs and lies back on the water, languidly kicking about to maintain his position, before turning smoothly round and starting to swim. Javi cuts through the water with ease, long arms and broad torso moving smoothly, sun glittering off the droplets that cover his shoulders. 

He dips down into the water in a seal-like dive, feet kicking above the surface before he reappears and grins in your direction. 

It is, you realise, the first moment on this trip that he has really seemed like himself.

***

He does not emerge after he goes to his stateroom to shower and change. When he doesn’t appear for dinner, you knock on his door.

”Javi? Dinner’s ready, if you are hungry?”

No reply.

”Javi?”

His voice comes through, low and sad. 

“I will take dinner in my room this evening, if that is okay.”

”Of course. I’ll prepare a tray.”

You eat with Tony and Vico that night, enjoying the tagine Tony has had simmering away for most of the day but wondering what, exactly, had served to put an end to Javi’s sunny mood. Was it you, too familiar, too comfortable with the guest? Had you unsettled him? 

The logical part of your brain would remind you that it was Javi who asked you to come swimming with him, who had sought your company throughout. But in your panicked state, you could only think that you had crossed some unseen line and upset him.

As you nestle into your little bunk that night, you spend a few minutes scrolling mindlessly on Instagram. A suggested post from a celebrity gossip page catches your eye. 

ETTA BALBAY AND JON MARCUSO: LOVE ON SET

Your stomach lurched as you swiped through the pictures. There was Etta Balbay, walking hand in hand in New York with her co-star on her most recent movie when she was supposed to have been here, on this yacht, with Javi. Her boyfriend.

”Oh, fuck.” 

***

The tagine was delicious, but Javi’s appetite was not up to much and his portion went largely untouched. He felt a little guilty, and made a mental note to apologise to Tony tomorrow.

He had been curled up in bed for most of the evening, ever since he’d checked his phone after the swimming pit stop and seen the pictures. Etta, looking very cosy with the lead guy from a film she’d had a minor role in. Etta, casually kissing that guy’s cheek in public, like she hadn’t just walked out on a relationship of almost a year. Etta, laughing a little too uproariously to be natural, hand resting on Jon Marcuso’s arm, in the middle of Manhattan.

”You are a fool, Javi Gutierrez.” He turns over and presses his face into the pillow, emitting a low, pained whine.

Another knock at the door. He swears under his breath and tries to decide whether to ignore it. He’d left his dinner tray at the door; you couldn’t possibly need anything else. 

There’s no second knock, just the sound of paper slipping under his stateroom door and soft footsteps receding. Javi allows a couple of minutes to pass before he climbs out of bed and gingerly picks up the note. He recognises your handwriting.

In case you wanted a late night snack. I have arranged with Tony for breakfast to be brought to your room at the usual time tomorrow. Good night, Javi.

He opens the door. A small, round tray sits on the plush carpet, bearing a small jug of tinto de verano, some cold cuts and slices of cheese, and a little plate of old-fashioned cookies. He shakes his head as he remembers a voyage a couple of years before, when he’d made up some of the beverage - a cooling mixture of Spanish red wine and cloudy lemonade - for his guests and the entire crew, you included.

He picks up the tray and carries it into his room, placing it on his bed and taking a deep draught of the summer wine. It feels like comfort itself, refreshing and sweet and kind. 

It was exactly what he needed. And you had remembered.

***

Javi reemerges just before lunch the next day, making a beeline for you as you oversee preparations with Tony. He gestures for you to join him outside on deck.

”I would like to apologise. For yesterday. And to thank you, of course. You… obviously worked out what was wrong.”

You swat away his apology and his thanks, reassuring him that it was all part of the service. “I did see the, um, photos from New York. I’m so sorry, Javi.”

He shrugs. “I feel like a fool. But at least I know for sure, now.”

”The only foolish one is her.” You clap your palm over your mouth, aware you might have gone too far. “Oh, I’m sorry, Javi, I shouldn’t have said that.”

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “It’s good to know someone thinks that highly of me. And that they remember how to make tinto de verano.” With a wink, he pops on his sunglasses and heads with his book in the direction of a deckchair.

***

”Need anything from the shops?”

On the morning of the penultimate day on board, Tony stands at the door to your tiny office, dressed in his street clothes and holding a couple of cotton tote bags. You raise your eyebrows in surprise.

”Shops?”

He nods. “Javi and me are going to take the motorboat and call into that little fishing village near the cove, get a few things for tonight’s barbecue. I keep telling him we’ve got supplies but he seems dead set on making stuff for us, as a thank you.” 

A final night barbecue on the beach was a typical feature of the itineraries offered by the company you worked for, the yacht dropping anchor near a quiet cove and guests ferried to the shore in the on-board motorboat. You usually stayed on the yacht for these events, helping to sort out the food and supplies but leaving the guests and their chef to enjoy the evening. 

Javi, however, wanted the party to be as much for the crew as for himself. As evening falls over the Mediterranean he stands commandingly over the grill set up on the white sands, his red and green-patterned shirt standing out against the blue of the sky and sea. He refuses to let Tony do any work, shooing him back to his deckchair with a cold beer whenever he threatens to help out. Instead, you act as his sous-chef, setting out large bowls of salad and platters of cheeses and slicing impossibly fresh, crusty bread. 

“They smell incredible, Javi.” 

He smiles proudly as he turns the enormous langoustines on the grill. “I wanted to cook for you all, as a thank you. You have been so kind to me this week.” He shifts his attention to the potatoes baking on the coals, then looks up at you, eyes soft. “But then, you are always so very kind to me, when we travel together.”

You take a sip of your mug of tinto de verano and hope it will cool the ardour burning in your face. “It’s easy when you are travelling with your favourite guest.”

Javi flushes a little and looks down at the grill. “I mean it. This week, especially… it has been just what I needed, and you…”

”EVERYONE SAY HI!”

The moment is interrupted by Tony, running in your direction with his phone in hand. His wife and tiny baby are visible on the screen, albeit somewhat pixelated. You and Javi wave enthusiastically as Tony holds the phone at arm’s length, attempting to get everyone in shot. Even Vico cracks a little smile as he takes a swig from his beer.

”I’ve never met anyone so homesick. Tony might need to rethink his career and stick to dry land.”

Javi lifts the fish from the grill and fills a large platter with the beautifully-charred food. “It must be wonderful to have someone to be so homesick for, no?”

***

It was a perfect night. The food, the drink, the company, the setting: all picture-perfect. Javi toasted the crew ten times over, Vico revealed a surprisingly strong singing voice as he performed mournful Sicilian melodies, and Tony began a makeshift disco with music blaring from his phone’s tinny speaker. Everyone danced together in turn, and you fell into Javi’s arms just as the song changed to Françoise Hardy’s “Le temps de l’amour”. 

On the ride back to the yacht, you wondered why, exactly, the world seemed to fall away when he spun you on the sand, pulled you to him in hold, swayed with you to the music, as if you were the only two people on earth. It’s just a crush, you reminded yourself. You’ve been together for a week, it’s natural to feel close. And he’s just had his heart broken.

Tony and Vico head to their bunks as soon as you get on board, keen to get a solid night in before the next day’s final stage to Palma. You walk with Javi down the narrow corridor that leads to your small cabin and his stateroom, talking companionably about the evening and joking about Tony’s dance moves, until you reach the door to your cabin.

”Well, this is me. Thank you, so much. It was magical. And you need to give me that recipe for the langoustines!”

He smiles that half smile, soft curls falling over his brow and eyes the colour of melted chocolate glittering in the low lighting. His voice is warm and low. “I meant what I said. I did not know how much I needed this time, how special you would make it for me.”

Before you can respond, Javi leans in and kisses you, soft and slow. A gasp of surprise catches in your throat but you cannot help but kiss him back, hands winding through his hair as he pulls you tight to him. He tastes of beer and wine and salt and sun, of the sea, of summer.

You moan as he pushes you against the wall, but force yourself to break the embrace. “Javi… I’m sorry. I can’t. We can’t, not with guests, not - oh god, I’m so sorry.”

He tries to disguise his hurt, but his eyes give him away. “No, no. It’s okay, I should not have done that.”

Yes, you should have. But you keep quiet.

You lean in and take his hand. “And maybe this is just a rebound thing, you know? You’ll probably wake tomorrow and be glad it stopped here, that you didn’t go any further with me.”

For a moment, Javi looks like he is about to speak. But he just nods and kisses you on the cheek, wishes you goodnight, and quietly enters his room.

***

The crew line up on the jetty in Palma the next day, ready to give Javi the traditional goodbye. He has changed into more formal attire, a light blue jacket and cream pants with a light coloured shirt, and his driver quickly carries his luggage to the waiting car as Javi embraces each of you in turn. He hands Tony a little Paddington Bear toy, a gift for the baby waiting for him at home.

You are the last in the lineup, and he kisses your cheeks before pulling you in for a slightly nervous hug. “I meant it,” he whispers in your ear. “Thank you.”

You watch with uncertain feelings as Javi waves a final goodbye. You make a quick return to your quarters to collect your things, call a cab, and get off the yacht. Two weeks of long-overdue leave lay ahead, and you would spend it in a tiny apartment near Palma’s cathedral, exploring the city and enjoying the nearby beaches. It would, you tell yourself as you wait for the taxi, clear your head: of Javi, of those sad, beautiful eyes, and of the memory of a perfect kiss that is replaying on a loop in your mind’s eye.

***

A voice calls your name, the sound cutting through the crowds meandering through the city’s narrow streets that sunny evening, about a week after you’d left the yacht. At first, you think you must be imagining it - until you turn and see Javi Gutierrez moving towards you through the crowds, somehow looking even more handsome than you remembered in his dark green suit. His eyes widen as he reaches you and takes you in, before kissing you on the cheek.

”Hermosa.” He almost breathes the word as he surveys your long sundress and espadrilles, newly purchased in Palma as a much-needed respite from your usual wardrobe. 

“You are too kind, Javi,” you respond, suddenly conscious of his gaze. “And you are looking rather guapo.”

He grins and nods shyly. “I have been having meetings in the city the last couple of days, staying at our little apartment here.” He gestures to the perfectly-cut suit. “So, I must dress to impress.”

You feel a smile creep across your face, an unconscious sign of how happy just being in his company makes you. 

Javi places a hand on your arm, gently. “Are you free? We could have a drink, perhaps - some food? Unless you do not want to, perhaps you have plans. No, you probably have plans, of course, what am I -“

“Javi? I would love to have a drink with you. Lead the way.”

***

Over some ice-cold glasses of local vermouth with orange slices, he regales you with stories about his future projects, seeking your thoughts and opinions on the various concepts and scripts he is working on. You talk about the city, about your plans for the rest of your time there, your next voyages.

He orders a second round, as well as a platter of cheese and olives, and you broach the subject. 

“So… how are you doing? After, well, everything.”

Javi pops a green olive in his mouth and chews thoughtfully before spitting out the stone discreetly. “I am okay, I think. Still shocked, perhaps, but a week at sea, then being alone the last few days… Well. It gave me time to reflect, to think about what I want.”

You sip your drink, not wanting to interrupt, and he continues.

”Perhaps I should have noticed that it was not going as well as I thought it was, that we were perhaps not as connected as I believed.” He shrugs. “She told me that she hoped I would find someone who ‘loved me for me’. It seems that she did not love me for me, no?”

His expression is so open, so genuine, that it makes your heart ache as you struggle to imagine how anyone could not love this man for who he was. 

“You deserve that, Javi,” you say quietly, emboldened by the vermouth. “And I don’t think there’s anyone in the world who couldn’t want you for who you are.”

He looks at you with a wry smile, eyes twinkling. “Except for Etta Balbay, of course.” 

You chuckle. “You’ve got me there.” 

He sips his drink before turning back to you, studying your features in silence before speaking a little hesitantly. “I have to tell you something. When I kissed you on the boat - it was not a ‘rebound’ thing, like you said. I…care too much about you for that.”

Your eyes widen as they meet his, warm and earnest. Fuck. He means it. 

Gingerly, you reach to tuck an errant strand of Javi’s honey-brown locks behind his ear, fingers gently caressing the side of his face as you test the waters. He smiles softly, leaning into your touch. 

“I care about you too, Javi. And not just because you’re my favourite guest.”

You lean in before you can second-guess yourself. His lips are as soft and enticing as you remember, the slight bristle of his moustache against your mouth making you sigh happily as you deepen the embrace. He cups your face in his hands as he kisses you, full of want and desire, right there on the café terrace. He leaves you panting when he breaks away, a confused look on his face.

“What about the rule? Not with guests?”

“I’m on holiday, and you’re not a guest now.” You smile knowingly, before leaning in for another kiss. “Would you…like to get out of here? My rented flat is five minutes away.”

He grins, and signals for the bill while you disappear to powder your nose.

***

You give in to a shared, surprisingly intense desire as soon as the door of the apartment closes behind you. Javi knows exactly how to handle you, guiding you against the wall of the tiny flat and kissing you deeply as he fumbles to undo the buttons on the front of your sundress while you tug off his jacket and unbutton his shirt. He pauses for a moment in the half-light to admire your breasts, cupped by the red lace of your bra, before bringing his mouth to your nipples, sucking each one in turn through the delicate fabric. He moans against you when you unbuckle his belt and undo his pants, slipping your hand inside his black boxer briefs to feel the stiff length of his cock.

“Good?”

He closes his eyes and sighs with pleasure. “Sí. So, so good. Keep going.”

He pulls down the fabric of the bra to expose your tits, grunting and muttering sweet nothings in a hybrid tongue of English and Spanish as he grinds against your palm. With your free hand you reach for his, guiding it under the skirt of your dress and to the apex of your thighs. You gaze into each other’s eyes as he roughly pulls down your panties and slips two thick fingers between your folds, fingertips expertly working your clit. 

“God, I want you, Javi.” You whine with pleasure as you ride his fingers, still stroking his cock. “Want you, want to fuck you so much.”

He groans with need and pulls you to the little bedroom, laying you down on the edge of the bed as he gets to his knees and drags off your red panties before tossing them behind him. His pinky ring glints against your thigh as he parts your legs and looks up at you, admiring your pussy as he prepares to worship. 

“I want you too - so much. Eres tan hermosa,” he murmurs, peppering the delicate skin of your inner thighs with kisses before he places his lips over your wet cunt. He has you bucking and moaning within seconds, sucking your clit over and over, working it with the perfect line of his nose, before slipping his tongue in and out of you until you come, loudly, against his face.

As you ride out your orgasm, you sit up a little and beckon him to you, opening your legs a little wider to accommodate his beautiful body. 

“C’mere, Javi.” You take one of the condoms you bought in the café bathroom out of your purse before pulling down his pants and boxers. It’s difficult not to exclaim in anticipation at the sight of him, so hard and ready for you. 

He’s already nudging against your entrance as you pull the rubber carefully over his cock and line him up to take you. The stretch is slow and intense as Javi pushes inside you, your walls already clenching around him. He squeezes his eyes as he adjusts to the feeling before he starts to rock against your hips.

“Feel good?” You wrap your arms around his broad back as he fucks you, wanting to feel every inch of him inside you. Javi pants and whines with pleasure.

“Incredible. So good, so tight for me.” He picks up the pace a little as he learns what you like and what you can take, hooking an arm under one of your thighs and pressing into the flesh as he fucks you ever deeper and ever harder. “You’re delicious, amor, so perfect - fuck!”

He grunts loudly when he sees you slip your hand between your warm bodies, massaging your swollen clit until you come again, clenching around him. When you open your eyes, he’s gazing down at you, handsome face full of pleasure and desire and a kind of wonder.

“Hi.” He slows the roll of his hips a little, taking you at a more languid pace, and leans in to kiss you. It’s soft and tender, a perfect accompaniment to the more heated passion that led you to the bed and a delicious sensation as you come down from your orgasm.

You savour the taste of yourself on his lips and smile at how utterly gorgeous this man is, hair mussed and falling forward, eyes warm and pussy-drunk and a little grin dancing around his full lips. God, he’s beautiful. 

“Hi, you.”

“Es bueno?”

“Mmmm, sí. So, so good, Javi.” With a gentle nudge of your thighs, you move together to shift positions, riding him slowly and steadily as his broad hands grip your thighs. You arch an eyebrow when he almost seems to giggle at one point, embarrassment immediately flushing over his face. You slow down and pause.

“What’s funny?”

He smiles and shakes his head, cheeks pink. “I - I don’t know. You are so beautiful, this is so good, I feel…”

You lean forward and kiss him, feeling his smile spread against your lips. “You feel…happy?”

He nods, unable to say anything more as you begin to fuck him again with a slow, deep roll of your hips and a huge smile on your face.

***

He wakes you with tender kisses after a night that involved very little sleep, beard bristling against the bare skin of your neck, your arms, your breasts. The smile that greets you as you blink awake is like your own personal ray of sunshine.

“I hope you don’t mind waking up to me in your bed.” 

You giggle. “Not in the least. I love waking up to you in my bed.”

He grins, rolls over, and spoons you, holding you to him with those strong, tanned arms. He nods to the little side table, where a tray with two cups of coffee sits, before nuzzling against your neck.

“Good! I love waking up in your bed too. And I made coffee.” He stops nuzzling for a moment. “I hope I remembered the way you like it.”

You wriggle over and turn to face him, tracing the outline of his features with the tip of your finger and kissing him gently. “I’m sure you did.”

He smiles. “I meant it yesterday, when I said I care about you. I think I have cared about you for a long time, but…I did not know if you cared about me.”

“I cared - I care - about you, Javi. More than I think I realised. Do you know now?”

Javi nods and kisses your forehead. “Sí.”

Further A/N: My choice of the late, legendary Francoise Hardy's "Le temps de l'amour" for Javi and Reader's dance on the beach was directly inspired by this scene from Wes Anderson's Moonrise Kingdom, which I just adore. Please enjoy, it's so sweet. (Pedro in an Anderson movie when?!)

[norry-yippee]

 Physical intimacy has started wars and birthed stories that have preserved thousands of generations, being told to children who look on with wide eyes praying to their gods that one day it will be their turn. -Me, in a jegulus one shot for some reason

[a-bisexual-panicking]

the urge to write payneland fanfictions is huge but the fear of being judged is strong

[star-bear-art]

Physical art is sadistic and mean and being unable to fix my errors sucks. But also it's very very pretty and a definite tribute to the always incredible fanfic The Season by the amazing @linnetagain.

These are little stills from Chapter 17—as always, I'm horribly behind, and only because every little scene rots in my head until I can find time to draw it.

The foibles of trying to scan and upload physical art and fixing the colours and aaaaagghrrrrr so so annoying. But I will get it down to a routine. Eventually. Hopefully.

Individual pretties below:

[vinelark]

wrote a fun scene last night and then immediately realized i need to cut it, so here's a little (mostly) non-spoilery bbts deleted snippet!

---

Tim’s in the lounge kitchenette, sneakily draining one of his contraband Red Bulls after the session, when there’s a slight disturbance in the air behind him. It’s either Kon or Bart, and Tim makes a split-second guess before launching himself up and springing off the door frame as Kon’s arm sweeps through where Tim just was. Tim lands in the center of the floor, keeping a hand pressed over the mouth of his can so it doesn’t spill. “Hey,” he says. “Open container here, that’s mutually assured destruction.”

“Almost,” Kon groans, dropping himself onto one of the kitchenette bar stools. “I almost had it that time.”

“Hmm,” Tim says. Kon and Bart and Tim are engaged in an ongoing Scoop Robin competition, which is an intricate sport in which players with super speed abilities (Superboy, Impulse) try to scoop players with non-super speed abilities (Robin) off the ground. There are a number of rules, like no scooping in battle and full uniforms in the Tower = fair game, partial uniforms = out of bounds and spilling food and/or drink results in negative points for all players involved. The score currently stands at Superboy: 0, Impulse: 0.5, Robin: 17. “Wouldn’t have counted anyway, since you’re not in full uniform.”

“What?” Kon looks down at himself. “I haven’t changed yet.”

Tim grins into the lip of the can. “Missing your jacket, though.”

“Yeah, but that’s…” Kon starts, and Tim watches, fascinated and a bit giddy, as Kon blushes.