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coolemmasulivan2 · 23 days

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It's Always You

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: You and Lando share a mutual attraction, but you've kept things professional due to career implications. However, after his first win race, things may change, blurring the lines between friendship and something more.

Word count: 6013

Author's note: First time writing about Lando. I started writing this on the day of the Miami Sprint and then when he won the next day I told myself I would publish it. Tell me what you think.

It's you, it's always you Met a lot of people, but nobody feels like you So please don't break my heart, don't tear me apart

Miami heat wrapped around you like a steamy August day and even if American tracks weren't your thing, the paddock was definitely one of your favourites.

Working with McLaren since 2019 felt like winning the lottery. Travel, new faces, and a taste of different cultures – it was everything you dreamed of. Hospitality put you in the middle of it all – the team, the fans, even the families. Being young, you clicked quickly with the drivers: Carlos and Lando from the start, and Oscar when he joined.

Carlos was your rock, a protective older brother even after his move to Ferrari. Daniel was a blast, always making you laugh with his great sense of humor, and Oscar's calm personality mirrored yours. He became your trackside best friend, sharing everything over coffee and off-track adventures with his girlfriend, Lily.

Then there was Lando. Your relationship with Lando was different. Unlike Carlos, you saw him not as a brother, but as a friend... friends that had feelings for each other.

He was shy at first, stealing glances when you weren't looking. But time made his shyness disappear. Flirting became his game, playful touches here and there and unexpected hugs wherever he felt like it. You ignored the signs until his confession left you speechless in the middle of the night in Monaco.

"I have something I need to tell you." He said.

It was 2020. Monaco was hot that night. Everyone at the team dinner was buzzing about the upcoming classic Monaco Grand Prix. Like always, after the dinner, Lando offered to walk you back to the hotel where the team was staying – nothing new. You even joked about Carlos doing the same thing.

Like all the other times, you didn't think much about the gesture. It was something he used to do, and in your head, it was just a friend helping the other. After all, Carlos did it from time to time. Why should it be any different with Lando?

"What's up?" You asked, the streetlights shining on his face. "Getting nervous about the race? The car feels amazing, right?"

Lando messed with his hair. Your voice, normally like music to him, made him forget what to say. "Uh, no, not the race."

"Then what is it? Now I'm the one freaking out." You tried to lighten the mood with a laugh. "Did you lose your house key again? You're not staying with me."

He wished you'd just be quiet. "Fuck, Y/N!" He blurted out. "I like you." The words came out fast, just like his orange F1 car. Did you hear him right? When he saw the surprise on your face, he knew you had. "I, uh, I mean more than a friend." He stammered. "Like, a lot. You're always in my head, even in my dreams. All the fucking time. I can't even look at other girls because you're all I see. I just had to tell you. I couldn't keep it in any longer."

You suddenly froze, your heart pounding like a drum solo. Time seemed to slow down, with only the two of you and the warm glow of the streetlights as the real things around. You wanted to speak, but the words simply wouldn't come out.

"Please say something!" Lando begged, his voice shaky. "Anything! Even if you don't like me back, just tell me. But don't let this mess up our friendship!"

It didn't destroy your friendship, but it sent your world spinning. You realized your little crush on the driver was a full-blown fire, and with each passing year, the flames only licked higher. But every time Lando flirted, the same words you had said to him tumbled out: "It's inappropriate."

He hated those words. He'd always argue with you about it. "Come on, I like you and I know you like me too. I know it! Who cares about work? We can keep it quiet. It can be our secret." He always had a solution for every worry, but you remained strong.

You wanted to believe that you could remain strong.

The problem was, your feelings were turning into a rebellion. Keeping them bottled up was a losing battle, and you weren't sure how much longer you could resist the pressure from the driver.

Lando strutted into the paddock beside you, his black clothes and crisp white shirt doing nothing to hide his cocky grin. "Finally figured out why I haven't won a race yet." He announced, his cologne a heady wave in your direction.

You peeked over your sunglasses. "Oh yeah, Sherlock? What's the conclusion?"

He leaned close, his voice a low rumble. "No good luck kiss from you, that's what! Maybe we should fix that? Make it a tradition if it works."

A laugh escaped you. "So it's my fault, huh?"

"Exactly!" He grinned. "And if I lose again without a kiss, everyone's gonna hear about it."

"That's your best shot at flirting?" You teased. "Seriously, Lando, you're terrible."

A playful smirk tugged at his lips. He draped his arm around your shoulder, leading you towards the McLaren hospitality area. "The only girl I flirt with is you, love. Guess you'll have to show me how to improve."

Heat flooded your cheeks, betraying your fake indifference. Lando wasn't an idiot. He knew you felt the same way, a truth as clear as the Miami sunshine.

A booming voice shattered the playful tension. "Whoa there, puppet, keep your hands off of her!"

Carlos emerged behind you, clad in his new Ferrari blues. You turned to see him glaring at Lando, who simply scoffed and moved away, the arm around your shoulder replaced by Carlos's protective arm.

He leaned down, a quick peck on your head followed by a wink aimed at Lando, who rolled his eyes with a playful huff.

"Or what?" Lando challenged.

Carlos pretended to consider, then grinned. "Or I'll run you off the track at the race. And don't even think about getting jealous. It's a bad look on you."

Agree to disagree, you thought. Jealousy did look good on him. The way he tapped his foot impatiently, the way he chewed his lip with a focused intensity – those were the subtle giveaways that made your heart skip a beat.

"Leave him alone, Sainz!" You swatted playfully at Carlos' chest, the contact sending a blush blooming across your cheeks.

"Oh, look who's defending the love bird." He teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You blushed once again. "Shut up." You whispered.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Lando fighting a smile as you continued towards McLaren hospitality. A quick goodbye to Carlos later, you disappeared inside, ready for your daily tasks. Lando watched you go, his gaze lingering long after you were out of sight.

When he finally turned back to his friend, Carlos was waiting, arms crossed, a knowing smirk plastered across his face. "What?"

"Ugh, the both of you." Carlos rolled his eyes. "All this mooning and staring, it's getting pathetic. Just take her out, will you?"

Lando sighed. "I've been trying for years. It's always 'inappropriate.'"

"Well, try harder!" Carlos pressed. "Last thing you need is someone else catching her eye."

Lando's playful demeanor vanished. "What do you mean?" He pressed, a sudden seriousness tightening his features. Carlos simply offered him a pat on the shoulder before walking away, leaving Lando with a gnawing sense of unease. "Hey, what do you mean?"

The sprint had been a disaster. It all ended so quickly that it didn't give him enough time to think, no chance to catch Max and the others at the front. To make matters worse, the Stewards imposed a heavy fine of €50,000 for crossing the track while the rave was still ongoing.

Later, back at the hotel, he was torn between feeling exhausted and frustrated. A cold shower did little to wash away the bitter taste of defeat. He pulled on fresh clothes and collapsed onto the bed. Closing his eyes, he focused on the tension leaving his body, hoping for a moment of peace.

A loud ringing sound shattered the silence and startled him out of his daze. He groaned as he searched for his phone, buried somewhere in the crumpled sheets.

Y/n: Hey, Oscar and I are planning to watch a movie and grab some food. Wanna join us? We're in my bedroom.

Lando smile, looking at your text.

Lando: You know I like you. You shouldn't tell me when you have other guys in your bedroom. It breaks my heart.

Although he couldn't see you, he was certain you were rolling your eyes after reading his message.

Y/n: Shut up and get your ass here.

A laugh escaped Lando's lips as he pushed himself out of bed. He stalked over to the mirror, running a hand through his damp curls. With a flick of the switch, the room dropped into darkness, and Lando walked out of his room.

Your room was on a different floor, but soon a familiar knock came at your door. Your heart kicked into a familiar rapid-fire beat as you swung the door open.

"Hi!"

"Hey, beautiful." He cupped your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Osc!" He jumped in your bed and in one smooth motion, he snagged a chip from the bowl you'd set on the nightstand.

"Hey. What do you feel like watching?" He quickly looked through your Netflix library, skipping over the typical romantic comedy options.

"Anything but that mushy stuff." Lando declared, earning a playful jab from you.

"Take your shoes off the bed, Lando!"

He chuckled, kicking off his sneakers. He leaned back against the headboard, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long. You were a black Simpsons shirt and matching sporty shorts, your bare feet resting comfortably on the cool sheets. A small anchor could be seen on your ankle, sparking his imagination about what other hidden treasures lay beneath your clothes.

The spell was broken by a knock on the door. With a quick smile, you ran toward the door, returning moments later with a stack of takeout boxes.

You settled next to Lando on the bed, while Oscar sprawled out at the foot like a contented cat. With the Avengers movie playing softly in the background, you devoured your food, a comfortable silence settling around the three of you.

Two hours passed by quickly as the credits rolled. Oscar groaned and got off the bed. You mimicked his stretch, feeling the pleasant ache of a relaxed evening.

"Looks like someone's having a sleepover!" Oscar teased, pointing a playful finger at Lando. The driver was sprawled across your pillow, a peaceful look on his face.

A soft gasp escaped your lips. "Oh, Lando!" you whispered, torn between amusement and a flicker of panic. He looked undeniably adorable, a mess of soft curls framing his face. You glanced at Oscar, who was already pulling on his sneakers. "We have to wake him up, right?"

Oscar chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "We? Seems pretty comfy to me, Y/N. Let the man enjoy his rest." He started towards the door, but you reached out.

"Wait, where are you going? He can't stay here." Panic bubbled in your chest. The thought of him sleeping in your bed sent shivers down your spine.

"So wake him up!"

Your cheeks flushed crimson. "I… I don't want to wake him." The words came out a soft mumble, barely audible.

Oscar leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Then don't. Trust me, asleep is the only state he'll stay put. Besides, wouldn't you rather wake up to a grateful cuddle buddy in the morning?"He winked, leaving you speechless, alone with the British driver.

Oh my god, you screamed to yourself.

You tiptoed around the room, unsure of your next move. Finally, drawn by a strange magnetism, you found yourself kneeling by the bed.

Lando's serene face was illuminated by the soft bedside lamp. His chest rose and fell gently in sleep, a single black curl escaping the gentle mess of his hair.

An irresistible urge to touch him washed over you. Without thinking about it, your fingers reached out, tentatively brushing against the perfect curl. As if sensing the intrusion, Lando stirred, and his brow furrowed slightly. You quickly retreated to the bathroom, heart pounding as you slammed the door carefully behind you.

Leaning against the door, you let out a shaky breath. You hurriedly changed into pyjamas, suddenly aware of how thin they felt compared to your day clothes. But it was hot, and you hadn't brought anything else.

Peeking through the crack in the door, you peeked out, praying for the best. Relief flooded you when you saw Lando, thankfully still asleep, but now facing the other side of the bed.

You were wondering if that little couch in the corner was worth sleeping on. It looked quite small and uninviting. Sleep on that uncomfortable excuse of furniture, or share the bed with Lando? The answer, realistically, was obvious.

You climbed in, scooting over as far as possible to create a respectable amount of distance from the body next to you. Sleep, thankfully, came quickly. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the day, or perhaps the unexpected warmth and sense of security that came with having Lando beside you, but you drifted off faster than usual.

Sunlight, snuck into the room, painting stripes across Lando's face. He blinked, momentarily disoriented. Hadn't he closed those curtains last night? He sat up, surprise jolting through him as he realized he wasn't in his own bed.

Even more shocking was the sight beside him. You, cuddle against him, your thin pyjamas offering little to make him look away. One of your legs peeked out from under the discarded sheet, and Lando felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the morning sun.

What in the world? How had he ended up, tangled in your sheets? A quick glance around revealed his phone abandoned on the nightstand. It was still early, but Jon would be expecting him in his room soon. He needed to get out, get cleaned up and get ready for the day. But leaving felt like ripping himself away from something precious.

He stole a glance at you. Your face, relaxed and peaceful, was turned towards him. A stray strand of hair tickled your cheek. Hesitantly, he reached out, tucking it behind your ear. The touch, light as a feather, was enough to stir you awake.

Lando didn't flinch and when you fluttered your eyes open, his face was inches away. A wave of yearning swept through you, a desire for more mornings waking up beside him.

"Did I die and go to heaven last night?" His voice, husky with sleep, sent shivers down your spine.

"You fell asleep." You admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "And I didn't have the heart to wake you up."

"Right." He breathed the word out, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. His hand reached out, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that both surprised and delighted you. A blush crept up your neck as he murmured, "Lucky me." Then, a sigh escaped his lips. "I have to go. Jon will be at my room any minute."

You nodded and smiled, despite the disappointment tugging at your heart. You watched as he hesitately rose, groaning at leaving your bed. His hair was a mess of adorable curls, and his rumpled clothes added a touch of vulnerability that made him look even more adorable.

He grabbed his phone and sneakers and then paused, a playful smirk on his face. "So, about that lucky kiss for good luck?" He teased, a hint of hope lacing his voice. "We already slept together!"

"Go!" You muttered.

"Fine, fine." He chuckled. "See you later, love."

He turned towards the door, and an impulsive urge surged through you. Before you could overthink it, you were out of bed and racing towards him. He reached for the doorknob, but you were faster, grabbing his arm and spinning him around.

For a moment, confusion clouded his features, but it quickly melted into surprise as you planted a kiss on his cheek. It was a chaste kiss, lingering just a beat too long to be considered entirely platonic. When you pulled away, his eyes held a mixture of shock and something deeper.

"There's your lucky kiss." You whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "Now go."

Lando stood speechless for a moment, the kiss still tingling on his skin. Then, a slow smile spread across his face "Today is a day full of opportunities." He declared.

With one last lingering look, he opened the door and disappeared into the hallway. You leaned against the wall, your heart pounding against your ribs.

You had never felt more nervous before in a race. At the start, it seemed like Oscar could give Verstappen a run for his money, but then the safety car came out and it felt like you were barely moving until the end of the race, with Lando being P1. It wasn't until the checkered flag waved that you finally exhaled, a shaky breath that escaped with a nervous laugh.

The McLaren hospitality buzzed with excitement. Lando had finally done it. His first F1 victory, a triumph long overdue. You joined the celebrations, a wide smile plastered across your face, not just for the team, but for Lando himself. It was a moment he deserved.

"Great race, Oscar!" You exclaimed as the Australian driver entered the hospitality area and hug you. "You had Red Bull sweating for a while there!"

He chuckled, pulling you into a brief hug. "Thanks, Y/N. I gave it my all, but the real winner tonight is Lando." He winked. "I'm sure your champion will be here any minute, looking for his girl."

You slapped his arm playfully, a blush creeping up your neck. "Don't say that in here!"

"Everybody knows." He whispered back.

As if on cue, Lando appeared. His eyes scanned the room, a triumphant grin splitting his face when they landed on you. You saw as he and Oscar hugged each other and the rest of the team.

He weaved his way through the crowd, a trail of congratulations and backslaps following him, but it was you he was drawn to. Everyone else faded into the background as he reached you, his victory grin melting into a tender smile reserved only for you.

You welcomed him into a hug, a sweet and loving embrace. He buried his face in your neck, the scent of champagne and his signature cologne an intoxicating mix.

"We did it!" He murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

"You did it!" You corrected, pulling back to cup his face. "I'm so proud of you."

Everyone was engaged in their own celebrations as he took your hand. He led you away from the loud crowd, a silent understanding passing between you. As you slipped inside his driver's room, he locked the door behind him, a thrill of nervousness ran through you.

He closed the distance between you, his eyes roaming your face before settling on your lips. With a tender touch, he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing a seductive path across your lips.

"Please!" He pleaded, his voice low and urgent. "Just this once…" You knew exactly what he craved.

"Lando--" You began.

"Please!" He repeated, his voice laced with a desperation that mirrored your own.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. A part of you, the part that had spent months pushing him away, hesitated. But the other part yearned to give in. You nodded.

He cupped your face in his hands and pressed you against the wall. The next moment, his lips were on yours, the taste of champagne a sweet surprise against yours. The kiss was hungry and desperate. You clung to his fireproof shirt. The world melted away, replaced by the intoxicating sensation of his lips moving against yours. All the reasons you'd held back faded away.

But just as the kiss deepened, a knock on the door jolted you both back to reality. You broke away, gasping for breath.

Lando groaned. "Yeah?" The voice from the other side told him they were expecting him. Lando rolled his eyes. "Just give me a minute."

When you heard the footsteps fade away, you reached for the doorknob, but Lando's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist.

"Stop it, Lando." You whispered.

"Don't!" He pleaded. "You can't tell me you didn't like it. I could feel it, Y/N. Don't deny it."

"I'm not denying it." You admitted your voice barely a whisper. "But you know why this can't happen."

Lando's jaw clenched. "It's NOT inappropriate! Look," he said, his voice softer now, "I waited this long for my first win. I can wait for you, just as long."

He cupped your jaw and before you could react, he leaned in and kissed the corner of your lips. He unlocked the door in one swift motion and stepped out, leaving you breathless.

You'd politely declined Lando's after-party invitation at the strip club near the hotel. You weren't the nightclub type, and deep down, Lando knew that. You assured him that you hadn't rejected it because of the kiss, but the way the call ended, left a pit in your stomach.

"He's mad! I know it." You mumbled to Oscar, who sat beside you at the hotel bar. The rest of the team was split between a game of darts in the back and loud conversations over drinks by the pool. "He didn't say 'bye, love' or 'see you later, beautiful', we just said bye."

Oscar facepalmed as he looked at his drunk best friend rambling about their mutual friend who was likely doing the same thing at the party.

"You're his friend, Y/N, not his girlfriend." He teased, sending a blush creeping up your cheeks. You stammered a reply, but the words got tangled up in your throat. "He's probably getting lucky tonight." He continued. "Deserves it after that win."

The implication hit you like a punch to the gut. "Lucky? You think he'll...?"

A mischievous glint danced in Oscar's eyes. "Oh, absolutely."

You downed the last of your drink, feeling a hollowness in your chest. "Good for him." You mumbled, the words lacking conviction.

Oscar groaned, frustration etching lines on his forehead. "Jesus, Y/N! The only girl he wants to get lucky with is you. Stop playing these mind games and making yourselves miserable!"

You rested your head on your hand, a wave of emotions crashing over you. "Oscar," You confessed, looking him straight in the eye. "I really like him. Like, never liked anyone this way before."

A slow smile spread across his face. "Then do something about it."

Lando was having the best time of his life, celebrating his first win with his friends. He felt his chest vibrate with every beat of the bass, as he laughed with his friends. Despite the fun he was having, he was also experiencing a dull ache. Your absence stood out.

He'd downed a few too many drinks to drown the disappointment steaming inside. When you declined the club invitation, his frustration boiled over into a harsh goodbye, which he quickly regretted.

"Did you see who just walked in?" Max shouted into his ear over the loud music.

"What?" Max pointed towards the entrance, causing a frown to appear on Lando's forehead.

Your arrival sent a jolt through him, he felt a surge of adrenaline and his earlier frustration vanished as a smile stretched across his face.

"Go get your girl, champ!" Max patted his shoulder with a wink.

Lando needed no further encouragement. He navigated his way through the crowd, his eyes fixed on you.

You scanned the room with a hint of apprehension. Even in your tipsy state, a voice of reason whispered in your head, questioning this impulsive move.

Just as you turned to leave, a warm hand closed around your wrist. You didn't need to see his face to know who it was. His familiar touch sent a familiar spark across your skin.

He wore a playful smirk, but his eyes held a hint of concern. "I thought you weren't coming."

You tried to appear casual, but your voice betrayed you. "I wasn't."

"How much did you have to drink?" He asked you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. How did he know what you had been doing? You stuttered in response, unsure of what to say. "Did Oscar let you come here drunk?"

"I'm not drunk! And how do you know I've been drinking?"

"Then why the sudden change of heart?" His gaze softened, searching your face. "And Oscar's been keeping me updated."

"Why doe--"

"Why are you here, Y/n?" He asked you.

You felt your face getting hot as you looked around the club, the among of bodies suddenly overwhelming. "I, uh..." You cleared your throat, the words catching in your tight throat. "I need a drink."

As you made your way towards the bar, Lando followed closely behind. You approached the counter and asked the bartender for a drink. He nodded and began to mix your order. Lando stood by your side, looking a you.

"How did you get here? Does Oscar know?" The concern in his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded and then drank the entire drink that was placed in front of you all at once. "Yes. He called me an Uber and told the guy to drop me here." Lando looked surprised as he noticed the empty glass in your hand. You hadn't intended to drink it so quickly, but your nerves got the best of you.

"Whoa, slow down there."

"I thought you wanted to celebrate!" You said to him as the bartender handed you another drink. You took it and walked away. Lando's face was adorned with a smile, but worry still lingered in his mind. Despite that, there was a sense of happiness as the night was finally complete.

You leaned heavily against Lando, his arm wrapped securely around your waist, as the elevator ride made you feel dizzy. He, somehow, seemed frustratingly sober.

"Hey," He chuckled, his voice warm despite the coolness of the metal walls. You managed a watery smile, lifting a hand to touch his cheek. "What are you thinking about?"

"Dogs." You mumbled. "Do you think they dream about bones?"

Lando's laugh filled the small space. "Maybe. I don't know beautiful."

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" You blurted out, smiling innocently.

He stopped in front of your room, his gaze holding yours. The concern that had flickered in his eyes earlier was gone, replaced by something more intense. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." A giggle erupted from your lips. Lando reacted instinctively, clapping a hand over your mouth. It was late, and the last thing they needed was a noise complaint. "Shh." He murmured. "Gotta be quiet, love."

You nodded. "Okay!"

"Where's your key?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation. You shrugged, the simple action requiring more effort than you cared to admit.

"Lando?" You whined. "Sleepy..."

He cursed under his breath, scanning the empty hallway. Walking up to the front desk for a key wasn't exactly his ideal scenario.

"Alright, you're coming with me." He said gently, scooping you up in his arms. A sleepy protest tumbled from your lips, but you clung to him instinctively as he carried you back towards the elevator.

"Can we go to the beach?" You mumbled as the doors closed.

"The beach will be there in the morning." He replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It's almost five am."

A giggle escaped you. "Naked swim?"

He cleared his throat, the sound a little rough. You'd been a delightful firecracker all night, and he was struggling to keep his cool. "The shower's a much better option right now."

The elevator doors slid open, and with a sigh, he carried you out, your head chilling against his shoulder. He fumbled with his keycard, finally pushing the door open with his foot.

In the room, he gently laid you on the bed, the soft sheets making you relax and close your eyes.

For a moment, he stood there, watching you. The urge to pull you close, to feel your warmth against him, was killing him. But your vulnerability state held him back.

"Hey, love?" He said softly, his voice laced with concern. "Can I take off your shoes?"

You mumbled something incomprehensible but managed a weak nod. He carefully removed your heels, his fingers brushing against your ankle for a fleeting moment that sent a jolt through him.

"Maybe a shower would be good." He suggested, his voice gruff. "You'll sleep better."

"With you?" She asked him, excited.

Lando, still feeling the effects of alcohol, ran his fingers through his hair, feeling hot.

"You can't imagine how much I want to say yes... But no, not tonight." You pouted. Grabbing your hands, he pulled you up. "Ask me again tomorrow!"

He gently led you to the bathroom and helped you sit down. He waited for the water to warm up, and when it was ready, he turned around. Suddenly, Lando's breath caught in his throat.

Without him realising, you had taken off your clothes. You stood bathed in the soft glow, vulnerability etched on your face, wearing only your black lace lingerie.

He tore his gaze from you. His heart beat a frantic rhythm against his ribs, mimicking the feel of the alcohol in his veins. Only if you weren't drunk...

"Are you okay?" Your voice was so gentle and innocent, nothing like it normally sounded. You reached out and touched his back. He flinched the innocent gesture a powerful trigger for his already steaming desire.

"Y/N, please!" He pleaded. "If you keep touching me..." The sentence trailed off, the implication hanging heavy in the air. The more he looked at you, the more his willpower crumbled. Shame washed over him. "Love, just take a shower. You need to sober up." He gestured to a pile of clothes on the counter. "There are some of mine there. I'll be outside when you're done."

You stayed in the shower for a while, the hot water feeling good against your skin. You weren't completely sober, the world still held a gentle sway, but the edge of drunkenness had dimmed.

Stepping out, you wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel Lando had left out.

As you dried your hair, you caught your reflection in the mirror. Even in the state of mind you were, you knew you were going to regret it in the morning. You put on the clothes he had left you and shoved the feeling down.

Lando, scrolling through his phone on the bed, looked up when the bathroom door creaked open. Relief washed over him as he saw you wrapped in his clothes.

"Feeling better?" He asked. You offered a small nod, leaning weakly against the doorframe. The playful energy that had fueled you earlier had dimmed, replaced by exhaustion. "Good!" He said, a hesitant smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Sleepy?" You simply nodded again. He cleared his throat, the silence growing heavy in the room. "So... Are you comfortable sharing the bed, or...?"

"It's fine." You mumbled. A playful glint flickered in your eyes. "And I promise I won't, uh, bite."

Lando chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Don't get me wrong, love," He said, his voice dropping to a raspy whisper. "You could do whatever you wanted most nights, believe me. But not tonight."

He gestured to the empty spot beside him on the bed, inviting you to join him, an unspoken tension lingering in the air.

You waddled across the room, the oversized t-shirt hanging loosely on your body. Climbing onto the bed, you scooted closer to him, a nervous feeling running through you, despite the lingering effects of the alcohol still dancing through your veins.

"Can we at least...?" You trailed off, your voice barely a whisper. "You know... a goodnight kiss?

"You're a menace when you're drunk, you know that?" He teased, a playful sparkle in his eyes.

You batted your eyelashes in a way you knew usually worked. He sighed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Alright, alright!" He complied. "But on the cheek. Lips are off-limits tonight."

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. As he leaned in, the faint scent of his cologne filled your senses. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, sending shivers down your spine.

"Goodnight, Y/N!" He murmured, his voice sending a flutter to your heart. "Hope you'll remember this tomorrow morning."

"Goodnight, race winner." You replied, a hint of sleepiness in your voice.

Sunlight pierced through the blinds, finding your eyelids and forcing them open with a groan. Your head felt like a maraca that had been shaken all night, and your mouth tasted like a desert. Sitting up cautiously, you winced at the throbbing in the back of your head.

Memories and fragments started to come back. The kiss, the club, the dancing, Lando's strong arm around you... and then... a complete blank. Panic started to rise in your chest. What had you done? Had you said something stupid or done something worse?

The bedroom door creaked open and Lando entered, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. He looked like a vision with his rumpled hair and a smile breaking out on his face as soon as he saw you awake.

"Good morning, sunshine!" He said, his voice sounding awful to your pounding head.

"Don't yell!" You mumbled. "Water?"

He chuckled, handing you a bottle of water. He sat on the edge of the bed, his concern evident in his eyes. You took a grateful sip, the cool liquid easing the dryness in your throat.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" He asked you, sitting on the edge of the bed, his concern evident in his eyes.

You took a deep breath. "I remember... bits and pieces." You admitted, shame creeping up your cheeks. "Lando, I am sorry if I did something or said something wrong... I must have been awful. I was very, very drunk."

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Honestly? I wish you felt that comfortable around me all the time." Lando reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch sent a jolt through you. "You know how much I like you... Y/n, I'm in love with you."

Your heart hammered against your ribs at his confession. A real and pure confession.

"Lando--" You breathed, your voice thick with emotion.

He took your hand in his, his eyes filled with a gentle understanding. "I know..." He said, his voice a soothing balm. "Just know that I'll wait for you. However long it takes." He squeezed your hand.

Tears welled up in your eyes. The years of running, of pushing him away, suddenly seemed pointless. All you wanted was to be here, with him.

Leaning forward, you met his gaze. Then, you cupped his face gently and placed a soft, sweet kiss on his lips. It was a kiss filled with apology and relief.

"I'm tired of running." You whispered against his lips. "I'm in love with you too. I've always have."

Lando couldn't help but grin as you hugged him. First, the win, then the kiss and now the girl of his dreams confessing her feelings. Yeah, you could definitely say it was a very good day for Lando No Wins.

"I love you, Y/n." You smiled, a genuine, heart-melting smile.

"I love you too, Lando." You knew, at that moment, hugging the person you had been in love with for years, that you were finally home.

#lando norris #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 fic #lando norris imagine

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dashofghost · 3 months

Text

AFTER HOURS

or, Hotch being frustrated with the local police department is hot. mdni

"I'm busy," the sheriff snaps, burying his nose in another case file to avoid looking at Hotch. You purse your lips quietly, trying to decipher your almost illegible handwriting on the report.

"I can come back with a warrant."

Your head snaps up, report forgotten. Hotch's scowl is even more severe than normal, his arms crossed over his chest. The sheriff pushes his chair back, standing face to face with Hotch.

"Excuse me?" the sheriff snaps. The conversation is turning heads all over the precinct, a quiet hush seeping over the desks, but your eyes are glued on Hotch. He braces his hands on the sheriff's desk, and you almost swoon.

"You have deliberately concealed evidence to protect multiple unsubs throughout this entire investigation. All those people had to die for what reason, sheriff? So you could keep your drinking buddies? So you could keep living your twisted lies-"

"You son of bitch," the sheriff spits at Hotch. The entire precinct is silent now, all eyes on the argument. Hotch waits for a beat, two, before abruptly turning away.

"We're leaving," he orders shortly. It takes a second for the words to reach you in your daze, but you scrabble to pack up your papers.

"Hotch, what-" Derek starts, but stops when Hotch fixes him with a dark scowl.

"That's an order." Hotch snaps. Chills, actual chills run down your spine as you follow him out of the precinct, anger rolling off him in waves. You bite your lip, teeth digging into the delicate skin. Bitterly, you wish they were his.

◇─◇──◇─◇

The ride back to the hotel is silent. The team splits up almost as soon as you get back, Hotch storming off to his room as soon as the car stops. You change into conformable clothes and wait for the inevitable knock on your door.

It comes just an hour later. You open the door to see Hotch, his tie loose and his hair mussed, coat jacket gone.

"Can I come in?" he asks quietly, just like he does every time. You smile and nod, and he walks in, closing the door behind him. He waits until the lock clicks.

Just as you pull him in by his button down, he's reaching for you. Your lips collide in clash of teeth, tongues dancing. It's the same battle for dominance like it is every time.

"You loved it," Hotch gasps between kisses, hands sliding up your sides, dragging the material of your (his) shirt with it. You drag your fingers through his hair, nails scraping his scalp, and he groans, low and throaty.

"Yeah? You couldn't even wait an hour before coming here," you spit back, furiously working on the buttons of his shirt. You try to ignore the tremors in your hands as Hotch cups your breast in his hand, massaging slow circles on your nipple.

"Do you want be to boss you around, angel? Want me to tell you what to do?" he asks, and oh god, you didn't even realize your shirt was off. The wall is cool against your back when you collide with it, and you realize he's doing it again.

"I think I'd rather die," you snap, but it comes out breathy as one of Hotch's hands trails down your stomach, disappearing underneath the hem of your sweats.

"Yeah?" he asks in his stupid smug voice, his paw-like hands cupping your pussy. You grind down against him, almost unconsciously. His thumb starts to work lazy circles on your clit, and your eyes flutter shut. You bite back your moans, opening your eyes to glare at him hazily.

He only chuckles, slipping two of his fingers inside you. His thumb works at a cruel pace, and your fingernails dig into his arm, trying to keep yourself upright. Hotch's fingers arch once, twice, before rubbing against the sweet spot inside of you.

You can't help it: you moan, high and breathy in his ear and Hotch's head falls back, a groan escaping his throat.

"There we go, angel, there we go," he coos, and the world spins and you realize he's picked you up. He sets you down on the bed, his hands shaking as he pulls off sweats and underwear. Your legs are still shaking as he settles you in his lap, and your head spins when you realize he's still in his (open) button down and slacks.

"Aaron," you whine as he slides his fingers back into you, and he runs a soothing hand down your back as you grind down on them. As his fingers rub against your walls, you can only bury your head in his shoulder.

You gasp as his fingers rub against both your clit and g-spot, crying out. You writhe in his arms, hazy with pleasure, dragging your nails his back. Hotch is moaning freely, rutting up against you.

"It's so-" you gasp, clinging onto his shoulders, nails leaving marks, "Aaron, ugh, it's so good-"

"I know," he groans in response, "I know, sweetheart. Just let me take care of you, yeah?"

◇─◇──◇─◇

"casual sex implies the existence of ranked competitive sex" this is the ranked competitive sex

#aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds imagine #hotch x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #Aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch smut #hotch imagine #hotch x you

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queerly-autistic · 4 months

Text

One of my favourite things about S2 was that we got to see so much in terms of Ed's relationships with women, and it just made me love him even more (if that's humanly possible). We didn't see him interact with many women at all in S1 (I think it was only the posh ladies at the fancy party which was...yeah, not a good experience), so S2 actually giving us a glimpse into his friendships with all these (very different) kickass women was so, so special.

I love that, as messy and fucked up as they all are, and even with the 'well we're pirates, we're not normal and we will fuck with each other' threat that hangs over everything, Ed's relationship with Mary and Anne is still so affectionate, and they both thrown their arms around him the moment they see him. Even though Ed is incredibly tactile, I don't think we've actually ever seen him be hugged like this, and it's just so lovely to watch him be embraced and clearly feel very safe being embraced by these women (and I can't with the way he clings to them, as well). I also love that this is a wlw/mlm friendship; yeah it falls apart later and turns into delicious gay-on-gay violence (and I wouldn't alter a note of it), but I love seeing this sort of affection between queer women and queer men, there's not nearly enough of it.

Don't even get me started on the BFF handshake he has with Anne - I want all the history there, give me six spin-off films about their adventures please.

And then we finally get a glimpse of his relationship with Jackie, which is similarly just lovely, but in a different way? You get the sense that they could sit there for hours, talking shit about the world, all whilst casually ripping the shit out of each other (but affectionately). You also know full well these two have talked extensively about men and know pretty much everything about each other's sex lives - we didn't see it, but I'm absolutely certain that Ed went into full gushing details about sleeping with Stede, just like Jackie did when she talked about The Swede fucking like a jackhammer (historical accuracy ftw).

And, again, whilst they're still pirates, and it's messy, the entire thing feels incredibly...safe, particularly from Ed's perspective? He feels more comfortable around Jackie than he is around most other characters (apart from Stede), just like he was with Anne and Mary.

And then, just to hammer the point home even further that Ed has, generally, fantastic relationships with women, and connects with them, and feels relaxed and safe with them, you have Ed and Zheng becoming instant BFFs literally minutes after meeting each other. Ed goes 'ooh, very cool woman kicking ass and killing people, she shall be my best friend, immediately', and Zheng is automatically incredibly relaxed and open with him, too (suggesting she feels as safe and comfortable with him as he does with her).

All I want in life is to see Ed and Zheng get silly-drunk with each other (and this is why we urgently need a S3).

And none of Ed's relationships with these women are a fetishistic 'I love women because they're fabulous' thing, or an overly patronising paternalistic 'I love the women and I must protect them' thing - all the relationships he has with women are very equal, very comfortable, fully believable, just fantastic friendships to watch play out. I feel like, given everything we see on screen, Ed generally feels a lot more comfortable and safe and open with the women he knows than the men he knows (Stede is the only other person he is this physically affectionate and comfortable with). Which is probably very understandable? Yes, the women he's friends with are all violent pirates too (that's part of the joy of it - none of them are lovely demure morally pure women, they're all violent pirates), but Ed has a lot of experience with specifically overtly abusive men - right back to watching his dad abuse his mum. And that's a distinction that matters: the show treats the violence of normal piracy and the violence of abuse very, very differently. Ed is not used to being treated softly or affectionately by men, as we saw in his shocked reaction to Stede holding his hand. I don't think it's any wonder that he gravitates more towards friendships with women (or that the men he feels the most open and safe with, such as Stede, Fang, even Frenchie, are very pointedly the opposite of the abusive men he has experience with). I just love love love that being friends with women is such a core part of Ed's character, and that we got to see all of these fantastic relationships in the show.

#ofmd #our flag means death #edward teach #anne bonny ofmd #mary read ofmd #spanish jackie #zheng yi sao ofmd #ofmd s2 ep4 #episode: fun and games #ofmd s2 ep7 #episode: man on fire #ofmd s2 ep8 #episode: mermen #ed x stede #blackbonnet #ofmd meta #erin waffles

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norrisleclercf1 · 11 months

Note

a blurb about the the reader accidentally appears on a stream and ends up revealing their relationship which was a secret (the reader didn't want to become famous so she asked lando not to talk about the relationship)

Thank u

A/n: Straight to my heart this one, you've got it.

You're a normal person, but the person you have chosen to fall in love with is far from normal.

He's a world wide, famous athlete that has girls and guys throwing themselves at him. It's overwhelming for you, someone who liked quiet and keeping to yourself.

So when you started to date Lando, you told him straight out you didn't want to have your relationship out in the open. People knew Lando was dating, they just didn't know who.

Whoever it was, is making their driver happier, lighter, just changed him for the better. Lando was currently streaming and the occasional question about his relationship would appear on his screen.

Lando just smiles, saying that he's very happy and to respect yours and his privacy.

You on the other hand, stood in the kitchen wearing one of his shirts and some shorts, trying to open a jar. Cursing under your breathe you whine, just wanting to open the damn jar so you could finish making yours and Lando's lunch.

It didn't even occur to you that Lando was streaming, forgotten completely. Walking to the closed door, jar in hand you open the door. Lando jumps, surprised by the sudden intrusion.

"Lando....I can't open the stupid jar, help." You whine, annoyed with the lid. Lando giggles, spinning in the chair to look at you. "Come here." Stomping over you hand him the jar, hearing the pop as Lando opens it with no issues.

"There you go, bug." You lean down, kissing him gently and leave. Both of you oblivious to the fact you just threw a grenade at the fans. Spinning back around, Lando has a goofy smile on his lips, freezing when he see that the stream just saw everything.

"Oh fuck." Dropping his head, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. "LANDO!" You scream, his head snaps up he waves bye rushing out some words and turning off the stream.

The fans fell in love with you after that.

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wheeboo · 2 months

Text

laundry day | hansol vernon chwe

SYNOPSIS. in which it's laundry day and you're in a bit of an embarrassing predicament. PAIRING. hansol vernon chwe x gn!reader (however, sorta implied that reader is more leaning toward fem) GENRE. fluff, humour?, best friends/roommates to lovers WARNINGS. cursing, vernon is checking reader out lowkey, reader embarrassingly wears hello kitty underwear i don't make the rules, ik vernon is mainly chill but in this they bicker <3, this was very stupid n silly lmfao WORD COUNT. 1.6k

requested from @weird-bookworm: lemme be annoying already— noni + #16 and #59 from list 1!! - #16: "You hugged me like your personal pillow." - #59: "Laundry day doesn’t mean walking around in your underwear, but for you, I’ll make an exception."

notes: i'm never good with writing humour but i thought of this stupid scenario and idk how i feel BYEE (cuz ur girl lowkey struggled on figuring out how to put #59 in the story lmao) tysm for submitting this in sky <3 and ty @bananabubble for reading it over for me!

join the 2k celebration!

You are so stupid.

So fucking stupid.

How could you let yourself get carried away in loading all your laundry that you forgot to save a pair of pants to wear in the meantime?

You replay everything in your head: your overflowing, neglected laundry basket, the utter satisfaction you felt after loading it... right up until the moment you realised every single pair of pants you own was now basically swimming around in a goddamn whirlpool, and now you're left sporting nothing but your underwear and a shirt that didn't offer much coverage than expected.

You let out an annoyed groan, burying your face into your hands and mentally slapping yourself in the face. The chill of your room sends a trail of goosebumps running up the exposed skin of your legs. There really was nothing you could do but wait for your laundry to finish.

Then your head shoots back up, and maybe your bedroom lights up a bit brighter at your metaphorical lightbulb moment, because you think of Vernon. He's the only other option you have.

Tip-toeing up to your closed door, a bit of hesitancy gnaws at you for being so dumb, before you yell out, "Vernon!"

He's probably in the living room right now𑁋you can overhear the faint music of the record player the two of you snagged at this vintage thrift store the other week. A very good and lucky find, nonetheless.

Taking another (and maybe regrettable) deep breath, you call out again, a little louder this time. "Vernon! Can you hear me?"

The music seems to dip down slightly, and after a moment, the record stops spinning, replaced by the sound of footsteps approaching the door. You brace yourself for the door to swing open to reveal the embarrassing state you're in right now, but it doesn't.

Instead, you hear Vernon's voice respond to you through the door, "Yeah?"

"Uh..." You bite your lip because you can't believe you're about to ask this. "Do you have, um... a pair of pants or shorts I can borrow? I'll give it back to you tomorrow."

For a moment you think he didn't hear you because it's completely silent on the other side of the door, and it does absolutely nothing at calming down your racing heart. You see, you probably should be fine with walking around in your underwear with Vernon because he's your best friend and roommate and he definitely would not judge at all, but it's simply not that simple𑁋

"Did you, like, spill Monster on yourself again?" Vernon asks casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world that you would do (it's happened one too many times).

"Yes, I mean, no, I mean𑁋look, just fetch me a pair and I'll bring it back to you later?"

"Uh, yeah, about that..." He pauses. "I'm wearing my only pair right now since you loaded yours first."

You really should've considered that being best friends with Vernon meant collectively sharing the brain cell of procrastinating when it comes to doing your laundry. Great, just absolutely fantastic. This was very much how you wanted your day to go. Perhaps this is why you're best friends, after all.

"Well, shit," You murmur, more to yourself but Vernon hears it anyway.

"Look, I'm sure it's not that bad, right?" Does he seriously still think you spilled Monster on yourself? "You could probably just𑁋"

You can hardly act by the time the doorknob twists and Vernon peeks his head around the door. But the second he catches sight of you, his eyes flicker over you, before he quickly averts his gaze to the Radiohead poster on your wall. Was it the lighting in your room that's making his face look pink?

You stand there awkwardly, suddenly feeling so exposed in front of him as if some sort of gigantic spotlight was shining down on you. It's not like you haven't been half-naked around each other before, but this feels different... somehow. You don't know why, or maybe you don't want to know.

A cough erupts from Vernon, breaking the sudden silence.

"Oh, wow, um..." He toys with the black hoodie around his head. "I didn't look. I swear."

His eyes dart everywhere except back to you, lingering on the Radiohead poster, the slightly askew picture frame on your desk, just anywhere but you. You don’t know whether to feel relieved or embarrassed.

"Ugh, I'm so stupid." You run a frustrated hand through your hair. "And I have this meeting for work in an hour and I know the laundry won't be done by then. I'm actually screwed."

Vernon thinks for a minute. "You can't like... virtually attend the meeting?

"No."

"Or it can't be postponed?"

"Nope."

"What if I file you as a missing person to the police?"

"You're seriously no help, dude," You say, giving him a light shove to the shoulder, but it's hard to suppress the curve to your lips and the small chuckle that leaves your mouth when you see him fall back dramatically.

Vernon snorts lightly. "Well, it's probably better than showing up to work in your Hello Kitty underwear𑁋"

"You said you didn't look, you idiot!" You exclaim furiously, and Vernon literally does not see the way a pillow practically spawns in your grasp and flinging toward him before he can even react. The pillow hits him square in the chest, causing him to stumble backward with a surprised yelp. "Oh my god, just report me missing at this point."

Vernon just laughs as he catches his breath to stand back up, grabbing the pillow up the floor and lifting it up like a shield as if to defend himself from you. Your face is burning brighter than the lava lamp glowing on your bedside table.

"This is so embarrassing," You mutter sheepishly, wanting to unleash another defeated groan again. "I can't believe I'm this stupid to forget to..."

"You're cute."

"...and then I'm probably going to get fired𑁋what?"

Vernon tosses the pillow back onto your bed and clears his throat.

"I said you're really dumb."

That is not what he said.

For a second, the disastrous situation seems to lighten up just a little bit, and your heart is doing some intense, unrhythmic tap dance against your ribs. You heard exactly what he said𑁋that he called you cute in this ungodly predicament𑁋and now he's trying to brush it off?

Vernon cracks a teasing, boyish smile. "And stupid, yeah. You're not wrong about that."

You open your mouth to retort, but the words get caught in your throat, almost like a choked sound coming out instead. So you point an interrogative finger and step closer to him (and yes, still in your underwear), eyebrows furrowing together.

"You called me cute," You state, all firm and serious now.

Vernon's playful look falters slightly, expression shifting to something a bit more guarded now. He rubs a hand at the back of his neck, that nervous habit you've always found sort of endearing throughout time. Perhaps there's a bit more meaning to it now.

The few moments of silence that follow is absolutely suffocating. You can't even tell if time is passing by quicker or slower as the two of you stand there, shifting this uncomfortable weight between both of your feet.

"Yeah," Vernon says simply, quietly. "I did."

You nearly want to laugh for some reason, but you can feel the nerves tickle up your spine. "I'm standing here in fucking Hello Kitty underwear and you think I'm cute?"

You can visibly see the way the lump in his throat tightens as he swallows, his eyes flickering uncertainly between you and the floor.

"Look you just... You caught me off-guard. Like... laundry day doesn't mean walking around in your underwear and all that," Vernon explains, in a tone like he's trying to reason with you. "but for you, I'll make an exception because𑁋"

"𑁋because I'm cute?"

"Because you're so stupidly cute from freaking out when I could just go to the store right now and buy you a pair of pants to wear." Then he sucks in a breath. "And yeah, the Hello Kitty underwear is cute, I guess."

You feign a shocked, traitorous look to your face. "You guess?! It's Hello Kitty, man."

"Dude, do you want me to snatch you some pants to wear or not? Because I'm deadass about the missing persons report," Vernon asks, half-annoyed yet somewhat half-amused. The twitch to his lips doesn't go unnoticed. And the voice of him calling you cute just minutes earlier also doesn't go unheard of too.

You wear a cringy, exaggerated pout to your lips. "Please."

Vernon's face contorts in slight disgust at that. "Please don't do that eve𑁋I'm leaving." And before you can say anything, he's turning around and leaving your room.

You hear the clinking of keys, assuming that Vernon is getting ready to leave to presumably retrieve you a pair of pants to wear for the day. You step up to your doorway to peek into the living room.

"Hey, I owe you!" You holler out to him. "Let me know how much it costs and I'll pay you back."

"No need," Vernon calls back over his shoulder.

"Come on, I'll feel bad," You insist, leaning against the doorframe. "I'll do anything, I swear."

Now that seems to intrigue him, and you watch the way Vernon slowly turns back to you, and maybe you're starting to regret ever saying that to him.

"Okay," he says lightly. "We're watching a movie tonight."

"A movie? What are we..." Then your eyes widen in realisation. "We are not watching Shrek again. I'll end up falling asleep on you because we've rewatched too much."

Vernon just shrugs. "Yeah, like last time. You hugged me like your personal pillow, remember?"

"I..." You stop yourself from responding immediately, feeling a flush creeping up your cheeks at the memory. "Fine, whatever. If I fall asleep again, you can just wake me up this time."

A low, thoughtful hum runs out of Vernon's mouth. "I mean, I really don't mind if you fall asleep, you know. If you're tired and stuff."

You blink up at him dazedly. "Really?"

"Yeah," he answers, and the corners of his lips lift up ever so slightly. "You're cute when you fall asleep on me, anyway."

another note: guys idk what i just wrote lol its like 90% dialogue n rushed HAHSADSA

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziesmei @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit @bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @tanya596carat @starshuas @totomoshi

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adams-angels · 4 months

Note

I want to see my man in pain, Adam break down after reader said they want to break up (fluff in the end pls) 😞

I reaaaally enjoyed writing this

I love pain 🥹

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Used

Adam POV

It was a normal night. Out talking to some babes. Tellin' them how great I am. Because, well, I AM! HA! I'm the first fucking man! These bitches swarm me. Who am I to deny them. I check my phone a see y/n has text me. "Ugh, what do you want now you needy fuckin'" I can't believe what I'm reading.

"we're done."

My heart sinks. Why is it sinking. I don't care. I'm fucking ADAM!! Adam stands, pushing away the crowd of angels surrounding him and tries calling you. "Come on.. come on, pick up, you dumb bitch." No answer. NO FUCKING ANSWER. His head spins. Panic sets in as. This isn't happening. Not again.

You think you're better than me?! You're nothing! I'm Adam!! I can get ANYONE I FUCKING WANT YOU THINK I NEED YOU?!

I'VE GOT TONS OF BITCHES WAITING FOR ME!

I DONT NEED YOU I NEVER NEEDED YOU!

He tries calling you again. No answer. "FUCK!" He expands his wings and shoots up, smashing through the skylight. He continues to text and call as he makes his away to your apartment. "FUCKING ANSWER ME!" He screams into his phone. By the time he arrives at your apartment he calms himself down, "I can get them back." He thinks to himself as he lands on your balcony. "They didn't mean it. They couldn't of."

As he reaches for the handle of the sliding door his hand shakes. "No, no, no, no." He grips onto his wrist stepping back from the door, being stopped my the railing. He slides down to the floor. "No, no, no...." His voice cracks, fear, sadness, anger. He never let himself get close. At least that's what he told himself. After the second wife also betrayed him he swore he'd never care so he would never hurt. But somewhere along the way, he fell for you. Although he denied himself.

He rushed to remove his mask, feeling like he can't breathe. Once he got it off he threw it aside. Clutching at his chest as tears escaped from his eyes. "No, no, no.." he whimpered. He sat on the floor for an hour. Thinking about you. What he did wrong. If he did something terrible. Why you're ending it. There wasn't even anything to end and yet his world felt like it was crashing around him.

Once he calmed down he leaned forward and sighed. Wiping his cheeks as he stood up and put his mask back on. He reached for the handle, hesitating before opening the sliding door. He sees you in your bed, asleep. He closed the door quietly and just watched you. For about half an hour before he realised how much a creep he's being. He walked into your livingroom. He's been here plenty times before. He memorized the layout.

He walks over to one of your succulents. You loved them. Once he came over and accidentally knocked one on the floor. You were so upset. He didn't see the big deal but he still went out of his way to buy you a new pot for it and a new succulent altogether. Just something to say he was sorry without actually saying sorry. He smiled as he remembered your joy. He sat on the couch and waited.

A couple hours later he heard rustling in your room. He shot up from the couch and heading to your bedroom, freezing at the doorway as he sees you wake. You scream in surprise, falling off your bed. He noticed your phone falling off the nightstand with you. His chest tightens. Your phone. Those horrible texts. "Adam?! What the hell are you doing in my apartment?!" You yell at him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He stands there, feeling awkward. "You want to leave me?" He asked, trying hard to not break his voice. You tut, he watches at you stand, wanting to help but to afraid to move. "You say that like you cared." You snap, picking your phone up from the floor. "Don't look at that." He took a step towards you, reaching out but you recoiled. "Why? You next me nasty shit? Telling me I'm worthless? That I was lucky to -" he interrupted, "y/n, I'm sorry. I just want to know what I did wrong."

Adam braces himself. For you to yell. For you to scream. For you to tell him you love someone else. "I just... I can't... I don't want to be a place holder for you." His shoulders slump down he hesitantly steps closer to you "What are you talking about?" He carefully slides his hand under yours "I don't want to be someone you just use until you find someone better." His fingers interlace with your as his other hand brushes your hair from you face. His breath catches seeing your red, watery eyes "I just want to be... I don't know, Adam."

His hand cups your face. He looks into your eyes and for the first time in eons he chose to be vulnerable. "Be mine?" He watches you shrug. Rightfully assuming you've misunderstood his request he clarifies "no, I'm asking. Be mine." The way you look at him makes his chest tighten in fear. "What?" He recoiled. "I mean, maybe we could start again? Like.. properly?"

"You mean like.. date? What happened to "I don't date. I'm the first man. I have the first penis ever bla bla!"" He glares at you. Of course you'd remember that. "I don't sound like that." "You do." Adam brow furrows in in frustration. "Whatever, y/n, please. I can't lose you. I don't want to lose you. Please don't leave me." He felt pathetic. He was pathetic. "I'll have to think about it." His chest tightened. His heart beating a million miles a minute. You'd see how pale he would be if he wasn't wearing the mask. "H-how long will that take?" He asked, desperation leaking out of him.

"I don't know, Adam." You shrug. The air was thick. He was struggling to breath and needed to get out of there. "I really care about you, y/n. You have to believe me, babe." He kisses your hand before releasing it. "Just.. uh... Delete those texts. I didn't mean any of it." He heads to the sliding door he entered from, opening it and expanding his wings as he jumps off. He looks behind to see if you watched leave like you've done so maybe times before. But you're not there.

It's been a month. A whole month. It should feel like nothing to him considering how long he's been in existence yet it feels like a years. He sees you about. With your friends. Getting groceries. Whenever his eyes catch on to you he freezes. No matter what he's doing.

He can't keep this up. He didn't want to pressure you. Make you feel like you had to choose him. But fuck he needed you to choose him. He was in his office. But he couldn't focus. He was so tired, not being able to sleep well without you. Even if he didn't sleep the whole night it was always nice knowing you were there no matter what. At least that's what he used to think.

He checked his phone to see nothing from you. It was too much. He was alone. You were never coming back. No one ever comes back. Lilith left him. Eve left him. Now you. "Fuck. FUCK!" He picks up his coffee and punts it at the wall. He can't stay here. He needs to find you. He needs you back.

He swung the door open and there you were. He couldn't believe it. He thought you'd at least text him. Not show up at his office! His feathers were literally ruffled, his office looks like a bombs hit it. "Y/n?" He said softly, it was like time stopped for a minute. He wish it did. Then he could scoop you in his arms and never let you leave. He snapped back into reality changing his expression quickly, not want anyone to see a softer side to him. "Come in." He stands aside letting you in to his office. He hates that you didn't text. He would of cleaned up there were documents everywhere, a smashed mug on the floor and coffee stains on the wall. He hated it was such a mess for you. "Bad day?" You commented he grumbled in response. "There are no bad days in heaven." He mumbled as he slumps down on his office chair.

Resting his chin on the back of his hand as he watches you walk over to his office window, opening it. The musky smell almost dissipating immediately "So... I thought about it." He perks up, sitting straight, watching you like a hawk. "And?"

"and I'm willing to start again. Properly." He immediately bolts from his chair, wrapping his arms around you. "Fuck, thank fucking Christ. Don't do that to me again. Please." His voice breaks, wings surrounded the both of you. "Please, I'm sorry. I'll treat you so much better." "Promise?" "Yes, promise."

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam smut

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astr0-physcs · 6 months

Text

an offer i could definitely refuse

t.fushiguro x m!reader

<you, a stripper for an underground club, catch the eye of a dangerous man>

{TW: slight dub-con, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, Daddy kink, brief mentions of alcohol and smoking, reader is a stripper}

WC: 5.1k

a/n: this too me so long but i'm such a procrastinator 💀

‼️NSFW UNDER THE CUT‼️

The intoxicating thrum of Shibuya nightlife beckoned, its seductive pulse a siren’s call to the lost, lonely, and desperate. A kaleidoscope of neon lights painted the streets, each hue casting long shadows upon the asphalt canvas, obscuring the lines between reality and fantasy. It was within this seductive world that you thrived, your vibrant aura and ethereal beauty echoed by the nocturnal glow of the city. You were a creature of the night, and the night embraced you with open arms.

Your chains clinked against your leather harness, hugging your body tight as you spun around the metal pole, the neon strobe lights reflecting off the metal adorned on your body. The routine for tonight was nothing special, so you danced normally, smiling like you were having the time of your life. Your co-workers mingled around the club, offering drinks and services to the paying customers.

Suddenly, you catch a glimpse of your manager, an elegant woman with eye-catching white hair in a diamond studded jumpsuit, walking across the back of the club. You try to narrow your eyes to see better. She's greeting a man, tall and muscular, and appears to invite him to her office.He smiles cunningly and follows her. Before you can take your eyes off of the scene, the man's vibrant green eyes glanced up onto the stage. You felt a shiver go down your spine, and you nearly messed up your routine. His eyes pierced right into your soul, and then they were gone. Muscle memory kicked in as you finished out your routine. The song ended and the small crowd close to the stage whooped and yelled. You flash a cocky smile at the crowd, then whisper to your partner that you needed a drink.

Scurrying off stage, you run to the employees only section and grab your water bottle, taking a much needed drink. The clear liquid dripped down your chin and you huff, wiping it on the back of your wrist. A door opens to your right, and your boss walks through, leading the same dark haired man from before. You nearly choke, spinning around rapidly to avoid more eye contact. You didn't turn back around until you heard her office door shut.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

“What could they possibly be talking about in there?” You think to yourself. Was he getting hired? Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you set down your water bottle in favor of tiptoeing quietly to the door, careful to not let the heels of your stilettos touch the ground. Pressing an ear against the door, you try to listen in on their conversation.

“—And the payment is all here.” That was your boss.

“Thanks, Mei Mei.” The unfamiliar deeper voice must be that man. “I should have this done by next week.”

You can hear your bosses frown in her next words. “You can't make it any sooner?”

“Oh sure I can. But that's gonna cost ya’.”

Your eyes narrowed. What a scumbag.

“Come now, Toji.” Her voice turned sweeter and deeper, trying to seduce him. Toji, you thought.

“Nuh uh, none of your sweet talk. Ya’ know that don't work on me.”

They knew each other…?

“Tch, alright. Please make this quick.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Footsteps approach the door quicker than you anticipated, and you try to back up as quickly as possible. The door swung open, and the big man walked out. He gave you a quizzical look, arching an eyebrow.

“What's this? An eavesdropper?”

His baritone voice reverberated inside your head. You stutter and go pink from embarrassment as he shut the door. “N–no! I was just getting a sip of water after my routine, I would never—!”

“Ohhh yea, I saw you up there.” He interrupted. “Y’know, for such a scrawny boy, you dance pretty well.”

Your mouth goes dry. Of course, people complimented you on your performances all the time. But the way he gave you such a backhanded compliment made you feel… weird.

“Thank you…?” You say, confused and took a second to take in his appearance . He was wearing a black compression shirt, releasing his toned body and white sweatpants. Not exactly club attire, but he wasn't here for the club, you thought. He towered at least a foot or two above you, his black hair was untrimmed and a mess across his forehead.

He grunts a response. The corners of his mouth twitch, the scar on the side of his lip curving upwards.

“A sucker for attention, I see.”

The blush coloring your cheeks deepens. “I am not!”

He chuckles at your defensive stance. “Right. Like you weren't just up there dancing your slutty heart out for all the attention from big, bad men.”

You were bright red now, his teasing words embarrassing you.

“I–I'm not up there for any other reason other than to make money. It's a job, not something I want to do for fun.”

Toji gives you a knowing look, his thin eyebrows raising slightly. He hums inquisitively and then sighs. He pulls out a cigarette and starts searching his body for a lighter.

You scrunch your face a little. “Smoking isn't allowed in the club. I thought Mei Mei would have told you that.”

His glance sent a shiver down your spine. Emerald eyes narrowed, he looks you up and down unimpressed.

“And a rule stickler, too. Not my type.”

He walks past you, out of the club's back room. You stare after him incredulously. What an ass! You think as you grit your teeth, stopping yourself from going after him. You take another sip of water from your bottle and walk back out onto the stage. The next pair's routine had already started, and your partner came up to you behind the curtain.

“Hey, where were you? You were gone for a while.”

You shrug. “One of Mei Mei’s clients was talking to me.”

She blinks, surprised. “Mei Mei never takes on clients.”

You shake your head. “Not that kind of client, I don't think. Mei Mei has a partner. I think they were discussing money or something.”

You trail off, glancing into the crowd fawning over the two dancers on stage. Another member of the club comes up behind you. He had long dark hair out into a half bun. His nipple piercings glimmered in the strobe lights reflection.

“Hey, I need your help on the floor. Satoru is going on break and you're up next.” He said, his voice smooth over the electro music. You nod your head and wait for Satoru to come towards the employee break room. He comes up to you and your shift lead. He hands you his tray, clad with a black and white checkered design. You take it from him and watch him and the shift lead walk into the back. You sigh softly. It was obvious they had something going on.

You wave goodbye to your coworker and head onto the floor, swinging your hips with each step. You walked over to the bar to get the next order.

“Hey, Nanami. Who's up next?”

Nanami glances at you behind the counter, his dark brown glasses hiding his intimidating eyes.

“Whiskey, on the rocks. Table 94.” Nanami stated bluntly. He wasn't the type to have a conversation with those who he didn't consider in his personal circle. You nod and glance to the table he referred to. You are met with those same predatory emerald eyes. Quickly breaking your gaze, you stare into space for a second. Nanami gives you a look.

“He's watching you.” He says, his voice a low murmur. “Do you know him?”

You shake your head. “No. He's one of Mei Mei’s clients. For money.” You specify.

Nanami glanced at the table. “He looks like a dangerous man. Be careful.”

You gave Nanami a grateful look and sighed softly.

He places the caramel colored liquid on the bar top. You take a deep breath, gathering your confidence. “Okay, okay.” You breathe. Placing the glass onto your tray, you begin walking towards those watchful eyes. A chill runs down your spine as you get closer to his table.

His eyes never leave your body. You put on a sugary smile, pretending you don't know him. “Hi there! Here's your order.” You place the drink onto the table with a slight clunk. You notice the cigarette was still in his mouth, now lit.

“I'm sorry, sir. Smoking isn't allowed inside the building.”

He arches a brow at you. “I know the rules here, doll.”

Your eyebrows twitch, annoyed with his carefree attitude. You still give him a sweet smile. “Please put it away.”

He scoffs. “Or what, babe? You gonna make me?”

You drop your smile. “I am just doing my job. I'll have to call the manager if you continue to disrespect the rules of the club.”

“You're gonna have to ask nicer than that, sweetie.” His lips curve upwards into a smirk. Your face glows red with embarrassment, lucky the club was dark and he couldn't see it.

“Please put the cigarette away.” You say, much more politely than you wanted to. He gives you a wolfish grin, taking a long, exaggerated drag and then blowing it in your direction. Your temper rose, your blood boiling. Before you could think rationally, you took the cigarette out of his mouth. He glanced at you, a mild expression on his dark features. His deep jade eyes never left your body, studying your face. You take the cigarette and throw it on the floor, stepping in it with your heel, smushing it into the concrete club floor.

His expression darkened.

“Listen, doll. Nobody disrespects me. Especially not a stuck up bimbo whore.”

You stiffened up with anger and reached out to slap him. With incredible speed, he caught your wrist and pulled, tripping you and causing you to fall on top of him. Your eyes searched for him wildly, and his lips went back to that wolfish smirk.

“I—”

He cuts off your protests with his lips against your own. You open your mouth to protest and he shoves his tongue into you. You squirm, but his massive rough hands hold you tight by your waist, forcing your thighs apart. He was greedy with his kiss, forcefully exploring your body with his hands. He tastes like cigarettes and you frown at the flavor.

A few seconds pass, before he finally breaks the kiss. He grins at you, noting how your cheeks were flushed and your breath was labored.

“Somebody enjoyed that.” He teased me. Your face went up in flames, scowling at him.

“You are seriously violating the rules of the club. Please let me go before I have to call my manager.”

Toji rolls his eyes. “I don't think Mei Mei will mind if I have a little fun. Besides, we have a deal in place.”

“What kind of deal?” You ask, curious.

He scoffs. “Wouldn't you like to know? Sorry doll, that info’s top secret. Not for cute little sluts like yourself.”

He flicks your nose playfully with his free hand. You wince at the impact and cover where he flicked you. He chuckles slowly, his hand on your waist tightening.

“Do you have any idea who I am, sweetheart?” he whispers slowly. You blink. He was right, you didn't know who this man was. Just that he was talking with Mei Mei. You shake your head. He chuckles, then laughs loudly like you just told the funniest joke.

“Oh babe… You are in for it, aren't you?” His scar curves up with his massive smile. You couldn't help but feel dread crawl up your spine like poison ivy. You swallow nervously.

“Don't worry, doll. I'll be gentle.” He coos. “Maybe…”

A soft gasp escapes you, your eyes going wide. Toji smirks and lifts your chin up with his other hand.

“Not like you're trying to leave anymore.”

You go red again and look away, all your previous confidence fizzling out quickly. Arousal begins to heat up in your core and you try not to close your thighs around his waist. He smirks up at you, getting in your face. His dark eyes sparkled with predatory mischief, and you bite your lip softly. He runs his thumb over your lip and laughs a little.

“Don't get shy with me now, baby. What's gonna happen when I see your entire body, free from all these stupid restrictions?”

To emphasize his point, he tugs on one of the straps to your leather harness. You blush again and open your mouth to defend yourself. The words get stuck in your throat and you look away your eyes sketching through the crowd of peoples, hoping something would distract you. Toji chuckles.

“You're so adorable, you don't even know what you do to me.” He coos again, tilting his head slightly. You look at him through your lashes.

“What do I do…?” You ask softly.

Toji raises both of his eyebrows, his smirk growing. “Somebody's being brave. You really wanna know?”

You nod, not breaking eye contact. Toji chuckles again.

“Alright, baby. I'll show you. Lemme take you to the back real quick.”

He effortlessly lifts you up, his hands on your thighs. You yelp and wrap your legs around his waist instinctively. He laughs in your ear, and you feel his voice reverberating in his chest.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

Toji gives you a confused look. “Don't you work here? We're going to a back room, baby.”

“O–oh, yeah…” You blush, embarrassed.

He laughs slowly, and begins walking down the hall labeled in glod letters ‘Private Rooms.’ You glance at Nanami at the bar, and he shoots you a worried look. You gently nod your head, signaling that you weren't in danger.

The hall was filled with quiet laughter, and the music was muffled. You subconsciously grip onto Tojis shoulders, and he laughs lowly.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I'm not gonna hurt ‘cha.”

You nod into his shoulder as he carries you into an empty room. The room looked like most of the other private rooms. There was a leather couch pressed up against the wall, matching the red aesthetic of this room in particular. There was a small coffee table in the middle of the floor with a lamp on it, emanating a soft glow. He sits you down on the lavish couch, his hands roaming from your thighs to the swell of your ass. Suddenly he slaps you, causing you to yelp. You push back from him, frowning.

“You said you weren't gonna hurt me….” You say with a pout.

“Oh yeah. I did say that didn't i?” He glanced away, pretending to think. You wiggle in his lap, your ass stinging. He roughly grabs your hips and forces you to stay still. “Keep still for me, doll— Yeah, that's it…”

You flush a little at the praise. Toji grins again, possessive and predatory.

“Yeah? You like that? Who's a good boy?” he says in a low voice. You bite your lip and glance away. He ‘tsks’ and harshly grabs your face, his smile fading.

“Look at me when I'm speaking to you, doll face. I asked you a question.”

“I–I am…” you mutter, your lips pressed together firmly. His wolfish grin returns.

“Good boy. I think you deserve a reward, don't you?”

You gulp and nod weakly, your body humming with anticipation. His smug expression gets impossibly wider. Jade eyes scan your body, unashamed.

“You really want me to tell you? Or d’ya want me to show you…?” He leans in, his warm breath fanning across your chin.

“That… That sounds good…” You agree, your voice shaky and breathless. Toji grins egotistically and his hands begin roaming your body again. He leans in closer to your lips and your breath turns heavy.

“Yeah?” He hums against your lips. “Where d’ya wanna take this, babe?”

You dont reply, instead opting to press your glossed lips against his chapped ones. You can feel his smile in the kiss, his hands gripping your hips tighter. You let out a soft whine that he immediately swallowed. The kiss is intense and full of lust and neediness. You're unable to fight your urges, an uphill battle. Your hips grind closer to his abdomen and he smiles slyly.

“Oh, sweetheart, don't you start without me.” His hands slide across to your thighs, spreading them over his lap even more. You barely register the sly hand traveling to your dick, before he gives it a harsh grab and you nearly choke. A moan spluttered from your lips and you broke the kiss, looking at him incredulously.

“Look at you.” He hums, possessiveness keeping in fond. “I could just leave you like this, drooling and panting like a fuckin’ dog.”

You could barely stop yourself from whining loudly. You grab onto his sleeves in a silent plea. He laughs and grabs you by the small of your back, pushing you flush against his abdomen. The friction makes you squeal.

“Ask me nicely.” He says lowly.

You swallow down your embarrassment and wrap your hands around his massive shoulders, burying your head in the crook of his neck. You open your mouth to speak, but a harsh hand grabs the back of your head, pulling you away from him.

“Look at me when you're speaking.”

You whine at the hold he has on your hair. He doesn't let go, and you open your mouth to speak again.

“Please, please don't leave me like this… N–Need you…” You feel hot tears well up in your eyes from the pain. He finally lets you go, and your head falls forward onto his chest.

“There's a good boy. Now, let's get you outta these stupid things.” His hands firmly tug your chains around your waist. You nod quickly and begin undoing your costume, throwing off all the accessories. All that was left was the shiny leather bodysuit. You blush. “Um…”

He gives you an inquisitive look. “Yes, baby?”

You swallow. “I… I can't get my zipper.”

He flashes his teeth. “Poor thing. Lemme help you, hm?”

His large hands briefly leave your body, but then skillfully return to your back. Warm fingers trace down your spine, causing your back to arch. He hums appreciatively. His hands slowly pull down the zipper, the sound cutting through the noise of your heavy breathing. You lean into his chest to hide your embarrassment, biting your glossed lip. As the zipper came to its end, Toji pulled the leotard down to your hips.

“Lift your legs up, baby.” He murmured. You raise your hips reluctantly and slide out of the costume, your heels falling off and clattering to the ground. Your now exposed dick twitched weakly and you glance away, embarrassed.

“There we go,” He hums appreciatively. He pulls your hips back down onto his lap, causing you to bounce. A whine escapes you and he chuckles. “I wanna see what I can make you do before I let you go. Now let's make sure you earn every penny I spent on you tonight.”

His voice was smug and arrogant, his hands roughly spreading your thighs. Your hips twitch slightly into his abdomen. He snickers lowly. “Let's see how much more I can make you shake, hm?”

You swallow and nod in lustful agreement. His smirk gets ever wider and he lets one of his scarred hands trails to your dick, already leaking, He wraps his hand around you, and you let out a mewl. He laughs darkly and begins stroking you, his veiny hands feel cool against your feverish skin. Your hips uncontrollably fucking his hand, soft whines continued to escape your throat and your eyes flutter close.

“Hey,” He snaps his free hand in front of your face. Your eyes blink open, hazy from lust. “Don't get shy on me now, sweetheart. I've just started.”

His hand moves faster, and you whine, trying to keep your eyes open. Your long lashes kept fluttering closed, succumbing to the arousal you were feeling. A hot feeling begins to build in your stomach and your hands grasp onto his shoulders. Your breath gets heavier and your moans get whiner.

“Yea? Gonna cum f’me? Be a good lil’ slut?” He asks condescendingly. You nod frantically, rocking your hips I time with his strokes.

“Beg for it.”

His voice was deep and taunting. His hand stops abruptly and he releases his hold. You whine loudly, rocking your hips frantically. Instinctively, your hand goes down to finish. Toji’s hand shot out to stop yours.

“The fuck you think you’re doing? I gave you an order.” His voice was hard, devoid of any previous lust. You flail helplessly on his lap, unintentionally grinding against his boner. He groans, and uses his free hand to slap your inner thigh harshly.

“Stop fuckin moving and answer me, slut.”

The sting makes you whine, and you finally pry your eyes open. “Pl—please… lemme cum…” Another slap causes you to cry out, the pain is a sharp contrast to the pleasure you feel in your core

“Wh—what? I asked nicely…” You pout, desperate for release.

“Yeah, well, I told you to beg. Do they just hire bimbos here?” He says degradingly. Your face goes red with embarrassment and you glance away. He roughly grabs your face, squishing your cheeks together. “You look at me when you're spoken to, got it?”

Your big doe eyes meet his dark pools of green, pupils blown out with lust. Your heart skips a beat and your hips tremble.

“Y—yes…” You mumble out. His arrogant smirk returns.

“Good boy. Now, does my favorite slut wanna cum in my hand or on my cock?” he asks in a renewed sultry manner. Your body jerks forward with his words, your face growing hot. His hand releases your cheeks, cupping your chin instead.

“I— I…” you stammer.

“Hm? I can't hear ya, babe. Speak up.” his deep voice drips with sarcasm, reveling in the way you squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment.

“Y—your cock… please.” You ask softly, gently open your eyes to be met with a cocky grin. He hums a little.

His free hand drops to the button on his pants, undoing it with ease, his erect member springing up. You gasp slightly at the sheer size of it. It must be 8 inches long, the shaft throbbing and leaking with pre-cum. It rubs gently against yours, causing you to whine at the friction.

“Does the pretty boy likes what he sees?” He asks. You nod, trying not to drool over him. “Look at you. You're like a puppy, drooling all over his treat. You want it?” You nod once, transfixed.

“Gotta earn it baby.” His hand slides down your chin to your throat. “Wanna hear ya beg for me.”

You swallow, feeling his hand trace down your throat to your collarbone. “Please, please, n—need it, please lemme…. Wanna ride it, Daddy—”

The name slips from your mouth, shocking both of you. He paused, stunned for a moment, your hands fly up to your mouth, embarrassment washing over you. “I— Sorry…” You say, muffled. You watch as his eyes darken impossibly so.

“Say that shit again.” He growled.

Your breath catches in your throat, unable to resist his demand.

“D—Daddy…” you mumble.

“Fuck… the shit you do t’me…” He growls and lifts your hips up. “You ready, baby?” He brought the hand that wasn't holding onto your throat to your clenching hole. He presses a finger against the puckered rim. “Gotta prep this slutty hole f'me.” He mutters before pushing inside. The stretch isn't terrible, but it still makes you whine.

“You like that? Think you can take more?” He doesn't wait for an answer before pushing another finger into you. You whine and clutch onto his shoulders, your chest pressed against his.

“Fuck—!” You squeak, your hips rocking back and forth on his fingers. The tip of his fingers touch the bundle of nerves deep inside and you jerk harshly, letting out a shocked moan. “Yea? Right there?”

Before you could say anything, he pressed his fingers into you deeply, hitting your prostate with each thrust. Your mouth drops open and your nails dig into his shoulder blades. Your previous orgasm that fizzled out returned with fire. You whine into his chest, your back arching lewdly.

“D—Daddy… G–gonna—” You warn him in between breathless whines.

“No you're not.” He says firmly, roughly pulling his fingers out and wiping them on your thigh. You squirm in need, accentuated with a slap on your ass.

“Needy fuckin thing arent’cha?”

You whine. Tojis hand gently pressed against your chest, pushing you back from your hold on him. You pout, but he just grins again.

“Gonna put it in.” He says in a low whisper. You can feel his warm breath on your ear. Your body jolts, and you barely have time to react before he's lifting you up by your hips.

“W–wait—! Be gentle…” you say in a lustful whimper. He gives you a predatory look.

“Gentle?” he repeated incredulously, his voice dripping with mockery. “How adorable.”

With that, he shoves his entire length into you at once. A shriek leaves your lips as you feel his cock rearranging your organs. Your hands tightly grab onto his shoulders, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Your orgasm washed over you befroe you could even warn him, hot cum dribbling out of your dick. He ‘tsks’ in disappointment.

“Didn't give you premission to do that, hun.”

You open your mouth to speak, apologize, but he silences you with a rough thrust of his hips. He doesn't give you time to adjust, grabbing your hips and slamming you down onto his dick. Your moans were high pitched and breathy, the pleasure bordering on pain. You try to take control of your hips, trying to slow down.

“T–Toji—!” One of the hands on your hips slap your ass hard. You clench on his dick and he groans.

“Told ya what to call me, didn't I?” He asked, a rhetorical question. You force a swallow down and he begins furiously pounding up into you again.

“Daddy—! T–too fast! Slow—!” Another harsh slap to your other cheek.

“Don't tell me how to fuck you, boy.” He growled before slamming his dick up into your prostate. You scream, the noises ending in porno-grade moans. You couldn't even bother to be quiet anymore, the pleasure lighting all your nerve endings on fire. Another orgasm welled up inside you, and you tried to ask for permission this time.

“Please—! G–gonna—!!” You sob, the pressure nearly becoming too much.

“You better not, fuckin nasty slut.” He mutters darkly, and watches you writhe. You try so hard to keep your orgasm under wraps, but with his dick hitting that special spot that made you see stars, it was an uphill battle.

“Gonna—! I Can't— Daddy, please—!!” You whine out brokenly. His dick twitched inside you at the pet name.

“Fuck, ya gonna cum all over me? Whore.” His words sent your mind spiraling, and you nearly lose yourself. Your eyes roll into the back of you head.

“D—addy, please…” You plead hoarsely.

“Fuck baby, cum all over yourself. Make a mess f’me.” His permission sent you spiraling over the edge. You back arched as your dick shot out hot cum. It dribbled down his abdomen and he made another noise of disapproval. “Gonna ha’fta clean that up.”

You barely register his words, writhing with overstimulation. “Too– too much—! Please—!”

You whine, but it falls on deaf ears. He keeps slamming your hips down onto his, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the room and probably down the hall. Your fingers begin clawing at his biceps trying to get him to cease. Pleadin bubbles up and dies in your throat, replaced by whimpers and soft, teary whines.

“Shut the fuck up and take it, why dont’cha.” Another rhetorical question The pain became overwhelming, but Toji didn't show any signs of stopping. “Fuck you're so tight for me. Gonna breed ya, get ya fuckin pregnant.” He growls, and sending another shiver down your spine. Your dick twitched weakly, more pre cum dribbling out of the tip.

After what seems like hours, constant slamming of your hips onto his, his dick twitches harshly inside you. “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum. You'll be good and take all of it, yea?”

Tears flowed down your face, your dick twitching weakly. You nod, breathy moans escaping you.

“Say it. Tell Daddy you'll be a good boy…” He demands, slapping your red ass. You jerk forward and mewl.

“Be… be a good boy for, for Daddy…” You say in between soft moans. He gives you a wolfish grin.

“Good boy. Fuckin’ take all of it.” Was his only warning before his dick exploded with his seed, coating your pink walls white. He presses your hips flush again his, hurrying himself inside you. The sensation made you tip over the edge again, clear cum dribbling out of you. He rocks himself slowly, riding out his orgasm. With a huff, he pulls out, his cum spilling out of you. Quickly, he pushed his fingers back into your hole, causing you to whine.

“You got a plug on ya, baby?” He asked. You shake your head, voice hoarse. He tuts again. “Next time, come more prepared.”

You shudder and nod, exited there would be a 'next time’. He pulls his fingers out and unceremoniously wipes the cum on your thigh. You make a face.

“Oh, be quiet. It's whatcha deserve anyways.” He says coldly. He picks you up and sets you beside him on the couch, buttoning his pants. “Maybe don't be such a nosy eavesdropper next time.”

You had nearly forgotten why he had targeted you in the first places You nod tiredly. He stands up and makes his way toward the door.

“Same time next week. Don't be late.”

#toji x reader #toji x male reader #jjk x male reader #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #toji smut #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen #male reader

1K notes · View notes

writingroom21 · 1 month

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The Nanny

Pairing: rafe x nanny reader

Summary: Being Wheezie's nanny was great. The only downside is dealing with the oldest Cameron, Rafe. What happens when his fascination with the nanny becomes a reality?

Warnings: 18+, fingering, oral (m and f receiving)

wc: 4.9K

Chapter 2: Let the fun and games begin

The next day was a blur of anxiety as you didn’t know what to do about last night. Rose and Ward had left early this morning taking Wheezie to drop her off at her camp. That just left you, Sarah and Rafe all alone at Tannyhill. This normally wouldn’t have been a problem but considering Sarah is MIA it became one. Every room you enter fills you with anxiety and dread of seeing Rafe. How do you even look at him after what happened? After he caught you watching him fuck his fist. Alright you think as you start to throb just thinking about how his arms flexed everytime he stroked himself. This is getting out of hand, it was one thing for your thoughts to keep you up all night but it can't affect your daily routine.

What’s the worst that can happen right? So what if you stood there and watched him, he would have done the same in your position. Hell he probably would have taken it as an invitation if he walked in on you like that. But no matter how you tried to spin it in your head it all led to the same conclusion. You were utterly fucked. The past year was easy to blow him off, all you had to do was think about all the girls you saw crying over him. But now that you caught a glimpse of that side of him you can’t help wanting to get a closer look. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun, you thought. It really wouldn’t, he’s really handsome and if his reputation is right then he’s also really good in bed.

Then you think about Wheezie and how hurt she would be if something went wrong and you had to leave. The thought of hurting her alone was good enough for the thoughts to finally stop. No matter how attractive Rafe is it isn't worth it, plus his personality would probably ruin it before it even starts. Yeah the two of you are completely different, he grew up rich and thinks the world is his to rule and you grew up in the cut. If it wasn’t for this job you would still be living at home barely making anything to feed yourself. He only tolerates you because he thinks you are hot and you work for his family. Yup that it, right?

The tv plays in the background reruns of Grey’s Anatomy playing as you try to relax. It’s close to five o’clock and no one is in the house. Sarah is probably off with John B and Rafe is well he’s mostly likely off somewhere getting high. Derek’s voice plays in your ear as you focus back onto the screen forcing yourself to think of anything but the older Cameron. Watching as the surgery scene plays out your phone pings. Mom: Hi baby. Just wanted to let you know dad and I are having a cookout tomorrow night. We would like it if you came, we know you’re a busy bee but we miss you. You let out a sigh looking at the message. It wasn’t that your relationship with your parents is bad, they just expected a lot from you.

It was always about getting good grades so you could get a good job and help them out with bills. They wanted you to take care of them once you had a stable job. So when you decided to take up a job as a nanny they weren’t too pleased. The displeasure faded away once they found out it was being a nanny for the Camerons. Even though the paycheck was nice, well more than nice, it still wasn’t enough to cover their expenses and your own. It’s been a constant argument between the three of you. You type out a quick response before she starts sending you more. You: Hey! I miss you both. I’ll try to make it, Ward and Rose asked me to watch the house while they are gone. Your phone wasn’t even out of your hand before it went off again with another message. Mom: I’m sure they won’t mind you being away for a few hours. But if you can’t make it we will just see you another time then. Her message seems so understanding but deep down you know she's upset. Fingers go to respond but a voice scares you. The phone drops from your hand as you whip your head to look at who came into the living room. “Still pretending to text that boyfriend of yours?” Rafe says, making his way over to the couch and plopping down near you. Scoffing at him you respond. “No, I'm texting my mother.” “oh so you admit the boyfriend was fake.”

There’s a twinkle in his eyes as he grins at you, watching to see what your next move will be. “Yeah it was fun watching you get jealous but I decided to give it a rest for tonight.” The two of you just stare at each other for a moment, he’s looking at what you are wearing. You didn’t notice it at the time but it’s one of his old shirts that got mixed with your laundry a while ago. It looks like a dress on you blocking the view of your sleep shorts underneath. Which is a good thing because those shorts leave nothing to the imagination, barely covering you up from the world. Every now and then you wear it but only in your room, not allowing yourself to let him know you have it.

“Nice shirt.” He comments scooting a bit closer to you on the couch. “You should wear it more often Sunny. Really makes your eyes pop.” Mhm you mumble knowing that he’s not looking anywhere near your eyes. In fact he’s staring at the exposed flesh of your thighs. Skimming up along your legs pausing for a moment at your cunt. Rafe’s eyes on you are making you wiggle in your seat as you try to focus back on the show. It is quiet for a moment as the voices of the characters fill the room. The sky outside starts to darken as the sun finally sets, the room painted in the soft lights of the screen.

Rafe is staring at you, looking at how the light washes of blue dance across your features as you try your best to not stare at him. Movement catches your attention as you see him slide further along the cushions to sit right next to you. “Where’s Sarah?” He whispers by my ear, his right hand brushes against your left thigh. “Um… I don’t know. Maybe she’s with John B or the rest of them.” Clearing your throat, the voice leaving you sounding weak. “Hmm so it’s just us in the house?” The question was met with his hand resting fully on your thigh. Lightly squeezing you as it slowly goes a bit higher right where the shirt ends, fingers quickly skirting underneath before going back to its original position.

“Rafe.” The rest of the statement was cut off by him. ”Don’t do that. Enough with this game of cat and mouse. I know you want this as badly as I do.” A moan slips from you as his hand goes back under the shirt to tease you through your shorts. Rafe’s middle finger grazing you up and down, noticing the way your eyes screw shut. Creases forming around them as he keeps playing with you. “We shouldn’t do this, I literally work for your family.” You try to reason with him turning to be face to face, whimpering as the heat of his hand leaves as he retracts it.

“I know.” He whispers as the hand that was touching your caresses your check, knotting into your hair to drag you closer. The other hand worms it way back to your shorts, sliding them to the side to finally feel you. “Fuck no panties? See you’re practically soaking those little shorts of yours.” You moan as he circles your clit with a feather-like touch. “Are you always this wet or do you like me touching you like this?” He chuckles as you move further into his touch. “You’re not special Cameron. I’m always this wet.” The response stops all movement, the grip in her hair tightening for a short second causing your eyes to open. Meeting the blue eyes that haunted you all night, you let go. “Don’t stop.”

Your lips crash into his, soft pillowy lips melting together, teeth nipping at each other's lips as Rafe’s fingers continue their assault. “That’s a good girl, Sunny. Fucking perfect.” The words tickle your lips, head thrown back as he makes his way to your entrance. Rafe pushes his middle finger in, dragging it along your walls in a delicious and intoxicating way. Moans keep slipping from your lips and only intensifies as his lips skate across your skin, latching onto your neck.

A second finger joins his middle one curling just enough to hit your g-spot, tingles spread across your body, legs spreading giving him better access. “Right there.” You moan, your hand landing on his thigh trying to ground yourself when all you can feel is pleasure. Wet squelching fills your eyes only adding to the sensation of his thick fingers fucking you open. “That feel good, baby?” Rafe picks up his speed before taking his fingers out of you and putting them in his mouth. He moans around his fingers, pushing you back to lay down on the couch. “Come on, pretty girl, lay down for me. Want to have my dinner.”

Your brain is so hazy from having his fingers inside you that you don’t fight back. Lifting your hips, his hands wrap around your hips to pull the pathetic excuse you call shorts down your legs. The flimsy material being thrown off to the side, shirt pushed up to your waist exposing you to him for the first time. “God your pussy’s perfect. Look at it clenching around nothing. Want me to fill you up.” His lips start to kiss up your thigh, biting into the soft flesh when you don’t respond. “Please.” You whine

“Please what? Use your words, I know a smart girl like you can do it.” The praise goes straight to your head, hips lifting off the couch trying to chase after his touch. “Please, sir.” The whimper halts Rafe and he stares up at you. After a moment of him not doing anything you look down at him between your legs. If you had a camera in this moment you would take a picture, he was a sight to be seen. Rafe’s lips are puffy and red but his eyes are staring at you with this hunger that makes you go to close your legs but he stops you. Both hands spread your legs as he dives into your cunt.

“Fuck that wasn’t what I was looking for but I’ll be damned if you don’t call me that.” His voice vibrates against you sending chills down your body. “Say it again.” His middle and ring finger push into you once again, pumping in a cruel slow pace. “Please, sir. It feels so good.” Your walls flutter around the fingers inside you, his tongue kitty licking your clit. “Such a good little slut. Begging me to keep finger fucking you like some depraved whore.” His words cause you to squeeze his finger and throw your head back with a moan.

“Yeah you like being degraded?” A chuckle leaves him “Should’ve known you would like it. Prancing around the house in those little skirts. Just asking for me to bend you over some surface to fuck you. Bet you want me to fuck that attitude right out of you. Huh would that finally shut up that little mouth of yours?” With his fingers curling into you deeper and his mouth suctioning against your clit no words come out. Your mouth hangs open and all you can do is place your hand behind his head, keeping him as close as possible to you.

A choked moan is lodged in your throat, eyes peeking at him through your lashes. His eyes are closed as he keeps devouring you, his hips thrusting into the couch to relieve the growing pain in his pants. Rafe wanted nothing more than to rip his pants off and shove his dick into your tight pussy. If you were squeezing him so nicely now, he can only imagine how good you would feel wrapped around his cock. He wanted to watch as you crumble into a mess of pleasure, taking his dick like a cock drunk slut. The thought of that alone causes his hips to stutter, the feeling making him moan into your pussy.

At this rate you can feel your peak creeping up fast. “Oh god Rafe. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” Hips thrusting up to match the brutal pace his fingers have set. If you thought his arms looked good jerking himself off, nothing compares to watching it flex as he fucks you. “I’m not stopping, baby. I’m never going to stop. But that’s not my name.” Rafe means it too. Just the little taste of you has ruined him, no one will be able to compare to the sweet taste of you. “Sir!” you squeal. He's drunk off the feeling and taste of you, every clench of your pussy making him grind harder into the cushion. “I can feel you squeezing me. You want to be my good girl right? Cum for me Sunny.”

With a graze of his teeth on your clit, you were sent to ecstasy. Hips thrashing all around as he kept sucking on your clit, fingers pushing deeper into you riding out your orgasim. Once you come down he removes his fingers, quickly cleaning them with his tongue before diving back into you. Licking you clean and holding you down by the waist as you try to escape him. When he’s finally done he lets you go, leaning back, chest heaving looking down at you.

You were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. So fucked out catching your breath with a peaceful look on your face. Eyes still closed you don’t notice him leaning back down, encasing your body with his. His thumb lightly dances along your cheek, waiting for you to open your eyes to look at him. “Thank you.” You whisper suddenly shy as if he wasn’t just eating you out like you were his last meal. Rafe laughs, kissing you deeply before moving off of you. “Such good manners.” He walks over to your shorts, throwing them back at you, making his way out of the room. “I have to go deal with something. I’ll be back later okay.”

Silence wraps around you, the tv displaying Are you still watching? Getting up you pull your shorts back on looking around the couch for your phone and the remote. Finding your phone you also notice something on the couch. A huge wet spot from where you were laying, heat rushes to your checks knowing you just soiled an expensive couch.

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The rest of the night was uneventful, Sarah never came back home so you were left all alone. Usually you and Wheezie would spend the summer nights outside swimming in the pool or staying up late chatting about god knows what. Without her there really wasn’t anything to do besides lay around or go to a party. After much consideration the only one that seemed right was staying at home. You knew Rafe would most likely be at the party, the something he had to deal with being selling coke. After last night and tonight you don’t even know how to face him again.

So staying at home was the best option in your books. A few hours were spent reading whatever romance book was on your bookshelf and making dinner for yourself. By midnight you were fast asleep in your room. Sleeping so peacefully, the sounds of the bedroom door opening weren't noticed. It was the door closing that stirred you from your slumber, looking at the bedside clock you noticed it was past two in the morning. Soft footsteps echo in the dark room, the person fumbling their way around knocking down whatever they made contact with. “Fuck” they curse the sound barely reachign you.

Scared and not knowing what to do you lay there slowly reaching for the bat by your bed. Even though this is a good neighborhood and people would have to have the gate code to get in you can never be too safe. The bat is now next to you in the bed, the side behind you dipping with the weight of the person sitting on it. “Sunny.” They whisper. Are you fucking kiddin’t me? “Rafe?” His hand wraps around you to turn you around, the bat coming along with you. “Jesus. Is that a fucking bat?”

Rafe slips it out of your hand placing it under your bed before going back to you. “Do you always keep a bat on you?” “Depends. Do you always sneak into girls' beds at two in the morning?” The moon shining through the windows dimly lit the room, contouring his face. “Only the pretty ones.” He whispers in the space between you two, telling you a secret he normally wouldn’t say. “I’m sure you say that to all of them.” You tease trying to put distance between you both. It’s weird having him laying in your bed, sure the two of you were friendly, things only changing the previous day. But this is different, he’s in your room, he’s laying in your bed next to you.

“Nah none of them need the sweet words to sleep with me.” Cocky tone matching the grin growing on his face. “Oh of course. Forgot that the kook king was also a king in the bedroom.” Rolling your eyes and lying on your back, you stare at the ceiling. Of course he would only say nice things to get into your pants, you don’t know why you could even think differently. Rafe’s face invades your eye line as he rests all his weight onto one arm to get a better look at you. His eyes are bloodshot, pupils dilated scanning your face hoping it can tell him what you are thinking.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Your eyes shut trying to form words with all the things you want to say. That he made you feel something no one else has been able to do, how you want to keep chasing that feeling, but more importantly that it was a mistake. It doesn’t matter that it felt amazing, that whatever it was would only lead to heartbreak. You’ve seen this film before with all the girls he flaunted around the house. “This.” You clear your throat, averting your eyes to the window. “This can’t keep happening.”

Rafe takes a hold of your chin turning you to look at him. “Do you want it to keep happening?” The loaded question fizzling in the air was replaced by a quick “No.” leaving your lips. “But it doesn’t matter what I want.” “It does matter.” Blue eyes burning into your own pleading for you not to take away these moments. Communicating with you that he needs this as much as you need him. “It can be our little secret. I promise I won’t tell.” You giggle, his head burying into the crook of your neck, kissing the junction where your shoulder and neck meets.

You try to push him by his shoulder but he won’t budge, kissing up your neck until he meets your ear. “Stop letting life pass you by. You stay cooped up in this house with Wheeze all day, she’s not a kid you know. When was the last time you let yourself go?” His breath tickles your ear before biting it and continuing to kiss your skin. Rafe’s right, you don’t do anything fun anymore. Before you took this job you would go out constantly, always with friends running around the island. Wheezie shouldn’t even need a nanny, the only reason you have this job is because Ward was scared. Sarah running away and Rafe doing drugs all the time made him paranoid, he doesn’t want the same to happen to her.

“I don’t know, I would say what we did on the couch would count.” His kisses travel to your jaw, then check, and finally meet your lips. “Yeah I would say it counts. Fucking soaked the couch from how wet you were.” You tense for a moment, embarrassed that he noticed the mess you made. “Nah nah don’t get shy on me pretty girl. You’re just as dirty and depraved as I am.” Pretty girl, that's the second time he’s called you pretty since he sneaked into your room. “You’re high, you should go to sleep.”

“Not high, that shit is practically out of my system at this point.” Kissing your lips he weasels his way on top of you. Your legs widening allowing him to slot his hips between yours, his dick rubbing you in the right way. You are still wearing the shorts from earlier, his dick making the fabric stick to your folds. “Just want to feel you.” Rafe’s words punctuated with his hips slowly thrusting against you, lips kissing any exposed skin he can get to. “I’m not letting you fuck me after you’ve been taking drugs all night.”

You can feel him smile against your skin, giving you a peck and moving his head to meet your gaze. “So what I’m hearing is you would let me fuck you any other time.” scoffing you roll your eyes flicking his forehead. “Yeah dumbass that’s what I’m saying. It's too bad. I guess we’ll have to find another way.” “Another way?” There’s that smirk again, a fluttering feeling starts in your stomach. Shaking the feeling away you pull him up by his face to kiss you, using all of your body weight to get him on his back. Throwing your leg over his hip you straddle him.

Rafe is the first to break the kiss, watching you from below as you start to grind against him. “Tell me princess exactly what is this other way?” The hand that was resting on your neck makes its way down the valley of your breast, teasing you nipples through the shirt with a pinch before finding its home on your hip. Viewing him from this angle is breathtaking, the moon painting him in a light blue. “Let me suck your dick.” His hips thrust up into your after hearing how you want to suck him off. “Yeah? Want to put the little mouth of yours to good use.” You grind a little harder leaning down to kiss his neck.

There’s a slight taste of sweat on his skin, probably from partying too hard, it doesn’t stop you from sucking on his pulse point. Pecking up to his ear and placing kisses right behind it, gaining moans from him. Bingo. Sucking on his sweat spot he uses his grip on your hips to move you back and forth. “Yeah. I want to feel you in my mouth, want to taste you.” This causes him to groan bucking into you. “Fuck! Yeah, yeah you can have whatever you want baby.” The words are like a reward, smiling as you look down at him, your hair covering the two of you from the outside world.

“Good boy.” Two simple words, two words that had him wrapped around your finger. The grip on your hip tightens as you kiss down his body, pulling his shirt over his head so you can nip at his skin. Your hands reach between your bodies undoing the belt and pants button easing the pain the zipper was giving him. He’s so painfully hard he can’t even remember the last time he wanted someone this much. “You like being my good boy just as much as I like being your good girl. If you admit it I’ll suck you so good.” You whisper, eyes flickering up to look at him.

If his ego wasn’t so big he would admit it, he would tell you just how fucking bad he wanted to be good for you. But that’s not who he is, admitting something like that would just show you how weak he truly is, he can’t do that. “Oh you begging for me to fill that mouth up of yours and fuck that tone out of you.” He taunts from above, grasping at anything to give him the upper hand. “You’ll definitely be filling up my mouth. It’s just going to be under my rules.” Pushes his shorts and boxers down his cock springs free bobbing in front of your face. Reaching up you grab him and give him a little squeeze, electing a groan out of the boy laid out on your bed.

You kiss his left thigh before licking him from the base up to the mushroom tip that was red, begging for attention. The taste of pre-cum invades your tongue as you wrap your lips around him, sucking just the tip. He’s heavy in your mouth and you only have the tip in but based off of the quick glance you got you knew he was big. Like huge, he’s also wide, stretching your lips as you take more of him in. If he’s stretching you out like this then you can only imagine what fucking him would do. As if Rafe was a mind reader he calms your nerves. “Don’t worry baby, we’ll make it fit. Just…just keep sucking like that.”

Humming around him, you start to move your head up and down, making sure to hollow your cheeks and give him a nice long suck on the way up. Repeating the motion you get into a rhythm, right hand wrapped around what you can’t fit helping you along. “Fuck that feels good. Who knew that mouth was good for something else other than talking back.” The vibrations of your chuckle send pleasure through Rafe’s body. He doesn’t know whether to watch you or to shut his eyes and enjoy the moment. But looking at the way your eyes are closed, worshiping his dick has him throwing his head back. His eyes closing, moans escaping him as he wraps your hair in a ponytail in his hands. Guiding your pace he pulls your hair this causes you to moan around the sensation making you wet.

“Touch yourself.” The command takes you by surprise, following it, your unoccupied hand makes its way into your shorts. You're wet, wet is an understatement, you were soaked. You would never admit this but you liked the feeling of him in your mouth, the feeling of him rutting into you. “You get off on this shit don’t you?” Your fingers rub faster on your clit, already so close to cumming just by sucking him off. “Knew you were a cock slut. Damn baby.” He huffs between breaths.

All you can do is moan and keep sucking, picking up the pace of your bobbing, moving your arm to slip a finger inside yourself. Rafe lifts his head at your movements, entranced by just watching you. His beautiful little Sunny being perfect, your eyes flutter open and his breath hitches. He’s going to remember this moment forever, it’s going to play on repeat in his head every minute of every day. Whatever happens after this is worth it in his eyes, this right here made it worth it. “If you keep going I’m gonna cum.” He moans, head falling back onto your pillow.

Disconnecting from him a string of saliva and pre-cum kept the two of you tethered. “That’s kinda the point, pretty boy.” You continue your previous movements, on the verge of cumming yourself. You can feel him throbbing ready to explode in your mouth so you squeeze his base tighter, letting him know it's okay and you want it. “Can you be a good boy and come for me sir?” Not even a second later he lets go, white ropes of cum filling your mouth as you cum right after him. Swallowing around him, you let him go, releasing him from your mouth, the hand in your pants laying motionless.

Rafe lets go of your hair, grabbing your arms to pull you up his body. The motion was so fast that you had to catch yourself as your body tumbles on top of him. He reaches for your hand, still glistening from your sum to pop them into his mouth. Rafe’s tongue swirls around the digest, licking them clean and releasing them to kiss you. “Taste just as sweet like before.” He kisses you, turning your bodies so you are both laying on your sides.

He has a soft smile on his lips, hands rubbing up and down your arm as he regulates his breathing. “Did so good, sunny.” His eyes are barely open, fighting off the sleep threatening to overcome him. “Yeah?” You whisper resting your head on his shoulder, feeling a sense of comfort with his arms wrapped around you. Snoring mets your ears as sleep takes you along with it. For the second night in a row, you go to bed with the taste of him still lingering on your taste buds.

#rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe obx #obx #rafe cameron

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feelbokkie · 5 months

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괜찮아, 자기야 (it’s okay, darling)

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

genre: hurt/comfort, heavy angst (read warnings)

pov: 2nd person

description: Seungmin is the type of person who will let you come to him when you're hurting. But even then, he can't just not do anything while you suffer.

pairing: boyfriend!Seungmin x reader

warnings: mention of food, depiction of depression, slight depiction of an eating disorder

word count: 2,194

"Y/n...Y/n, wake up," Seungmin's soft and gentle voice pulls you back into the world of the conscious.

"Hm?" You hum, your eyes still closed.

"I'm hungry," He whispers, tapping on your shoulder.

You crack one eye open, staring at your boyfriend. You can barely see in him the dark of your room. You're not even sure what time it is. Seungmin had a busy schedule today so you weren't anticipating seeing him. And with your day off, you just stayed home and ended up taking a nap.

"You came all the way to my place to wake me up and tell me that you're hungry?" You croak.

"...Yes?" He hesitates, biting the tip of his tongue.

"You know where my kitchen is, go make something. Or have something delivered." You yawn as you pull your blanket over your face.

Cool air hits your face as your blanket is gently pulled down. Getting irritated, you whine as you sit up and turn on your lights. Both you and Seungmin flinch as your eyes adjust to the light. In the light, Seungmin can see how pale you've gotten and the dark circles under your eyes. He feels worse than he already does about waking you up. You can see it in the way his smile drops as your eyes meet.

"I already bought something," He whispers.

"Then why did you wake me up?" You snap.

Seungmin presses his lips together, thinking for a second. You didn't mean to snap at him. You know that and he knows that. So he doesn't take it to heart. He knows he's at fault for waking you up.

"Can you come sit with me while I eat?" He asks, biting his lower lip. He knows that there's a possibility you'll shut him down and go back to sleep.

"What?"

You heard him perfectly fine the first time. Part of you wonders if you're still asleep and this is all a dream. It's not abnormal for Seungmin to come into your apartment and eat or do other things like he lives there. You've always told him to make himself comfortable. You also know that Seungmin doesn't like eating alone. You've lost count of how many times you've received video calls from him only for him to sit there and eat and then hang up when he's done. Normally, however, if you're asleep or too busy to sit with him or answer the call, he'll leave you alone.

"Please?" He quietly pleads.

"Okay, fine." You mumble, climbing out of bed.

Here's what you don't know, Seungmin has noticed that your eating habits have changed. Not a first, but he slowly began to figure it out. He beats himself up for not noticing sooner. He's not sure why or how he didn't. Your hands feel smaller in his. The rings on your hands that he usually fidgets with were easier to spin around your fingers. Your face felt different in his hands when he cupped your face, slightly smaller. Your clothes, which were already too big in the first place, seemed to swallow you up. How he didn't pick up on those differences, he'll never know.

It wasn't the physical difference that tipped him off, it was your trash. Seungmin knows that you hate taking out your trash in your apartment complex. The trash is located on the other side of the complex and you have to pass by an apartment that makes you uncomfortable. So, whenever he's in town, he'll come over once a week to take out your trash for you. He started doing it on his own, sneaking into your apartment when you were at work and leaving a note on your fridge so you'd know. He knows how heavy your trash should be, as strange as it sounds. But after taking out your trash for you for years, he's grown accustomed to the feel of the bag in his hands. The bags have either been heavier or lighter than normal. It wasn't last week when he went to take out the trash and found the container for takeout he ordered for you sitting at the top, poorly hidden my napkins. That's when everything clicked for him. How you've gotten slower while eating. You were always faster than him but lately, it's almost like the roles reversed. And he also noticed how little food you ate before claiming that you were full. In his eyes, as your boyfriend, he should have realized sooner.

The two of you sit across from each other at your small dining table. Seungmin quietly fidgets in his seat. His food was already set in front of him. You know he wants to say something but doesn’t know how to say it.

“What?” You let out a deep sigh, beginning to get annoyed.

“I can’t eat if you’re not eating something too,” He speaks slowly, carefully choosing his words. Like it might set you off if he said the wrong thing.

“Since when?”

“Since always,”

“Seungmin—”

“Please? Just eat something with me and then we can both go take a nap together. I promise I’ll shut up.” He begs, his voice getting desperate.

“Okay, but only a little bit,” You mumble, caving in.

Seungmin quickly walks into the kitchen and almost immediately walks back out. Almost like he was ready for this. You shake your head, getting the accusation off of your mind as Seungmin sets the plate down in front of you.

You stare at the food as Seungmin makes his way back to his seat. Something about it makes you feel uncomfortable. A lump forms in your throat as you continue to stare. It's your favorite meal, but you want no part of it.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Seungmin watches you carefully, silently refusing to take a bite of his food until you take a bite of yours first. You take one, deep breath before picking up the fork and taking a bite of your food. Still keeping an eye on you, Seungmin finally takes a bite of his food.

"Is it good?" Seungmin asks. All you do is nod in response.

Seungmin has never been one for talking while eating. You're normally the one who starts conversations over meals. You don't like the quiet so small talk is what helps make meals less awkward. On days when Seungmin video chats when he's eating, you often make small talk if you aren't in a position it eat. You being silent right now feels strange to Seungmin.

"I got it by that little shop down the street. The one with the cat that hangs out in the front." Seungmin says quietly.

"Hm," You hum in response.

You know exactly which shop he's talking about. It's your favorite hole-in-the-wall in their neighborhood. And it's everyone else's favorite spot too. It's always so busy and the wait times for takeout are long. There are so many times when you and Seungmin would plan on going there for dinner or to order to-go but would end up changing your minds in favor of something quicker. Both of you are patient, but when you need to eat, you can be cranky. The fact that Seungmin probably waited in line for about an hour makes you feel a little bad.

"Do you want some more?" Seungmin asks when he sees that you cleared your plate.

"No thank you," You respond softly.

Seungmin quickly finishes his food and clears the table, despite your protest. Seungmin told you to go lie down since he woke you up. You quietly apologized and excused yourself before slowly making your way back to your room. You feel bad not helping him but you have no energy left to do so. Those few minutes with Seungmin seemed to have drained your energy.

Creak

Your eyes slowly open just as you feel the bed dip down. Seungmin freezes for a second, watching you. His bangs fall back in front of his face. If you had just a bit more energy in you, you would have fixed them for him.

"Sorry," He mumbles as he continues to make his over to you.

In a few seconds, he's climbed up next to you and under the blanket. His arms snake around you as he carefully pulls you into a hug. He slightly re-adjusts himself, the angle too awkward for both of you at first. You move off him, letting him get into a comfortable position. He's now slightly propped up against the headboard. He pulls you back onto him so that your head rests on his chest. Your legs lazily tangled up together. One of his hands rests on the small of your back while the other is on your head, softly massaging your scalp.

You're not sure if it's the warmth radiating from his body, the scent of his cologne coming from his hoodies, the sound of his heart beating his chest, the feeling of his fingers rubbing soft circles in your head, or your general mental health finally being at its tipping point, but something in you snaps. Before you can even ascertain why, tears trickle down your face.

You don't realize it at first. You didn't even feel the pinpricks at the back of your eyes like you normally would before you started crying. Your eyes are quite literally leaking, and you can't stop them. You turn to bury your head into Seungmin's chest, hoping that, that would stop the floodgates from bursting open. Your fingers grip the fabric of Seungmin's hoodie, your whole body shaking as you let out a choked sob. Seungmin's hold around you tightens.

"It's okay, jagiya. You can let it all out. I'm here now. I should have been here earlier, but I'm here now. Okay? And I'm not leaving." Seungmin says softly as he presses a long kiss to the top of your head.

Seungmin's hand that was resting on your back now drawing soothing circles. Not trying to calm you down, per say, but to let you know that it's okay. He doesn't try to shush you or try to get you to talk about whatever is making you feel like this. Instead, he just holds you and lets you cry it out.

You're not sure how long the two of you lay there. The whole time, Seungmin just quietly holds you, still rubbing soothing circles on your back. Your body is hot from a combination of the banklet, Seungmin's hold, and your body working overtime from crying. You finally pull away, your body empty of tears. Your swollen eyes land on Seungmin's hoodie, covered in your tears and snot.

"S-sorry about your hoodie," You stutter. If you had any tears left to cry, you would start crying again.

"I don't mind," He answers quickly.

Seungmin quietly gets up, leaving you alone in your room. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. Your eyes are swollen and slightly hurt when you blink. You can only imagine how red they are.

"Here," Seungmin hands you a glass of water before disappearing again.

By the time Seungmin gets back, you've finished the water. He takes the empty glass from you, setting it down on the bedside table, before sitting down in front of you. He gently places a finger under your chin, lifting your head until your eyes are level with his. He gently wipes your face with a warm, damp towel.

"I'm sorry," You whisper as Seungmin cleans your once tear-stained face.

"Don't be sorry," He hums. He finishes cleaning your face and places the towel next to the cup.

"But--I don't know what's wrong with me. I just...I'm sorry," Your head falls in your hands, embarrassed about your crying feast.

"Don't ever apologize for feeling your feelings. And--hey," Seungmin lowers his head so he can be in your field of vision. "Don't ever feel sorry for being vulnerable in front of me. Especially in front of me."

"I don't even know why I cried. Or why I'm...not me right now."

"That's okay. You don't have to know that right now. You can figure that out later. For now, if you need to lean on me or to cry some more or scream and shout or hit something, I'll be here."

"But--" Seungmin cups your face with both of his hands.

"I love you, okay? If you need me, I'm going to be there. Even if you don't, I'll be there. I just need you to know that you're not alone. You'll never be alone as long as I'm here."

That's one of the things you love about Seungmin. He never pushes you. He rather have you feel what you're feeling and then come to him when you're ready to talk. He never wants you to be alone so he situates himself as close to you as you'll allow just so you know he's there.

"I love you," You feel a tear roll down your cheek. Seungmin's thumb moves across your cheek, catching the tear.

"I love you too. Remember that, okay? Try not to forget that."

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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auteurdelabre · 1 month

Text

A LITTLE SUN - SERIES FINALE

rating: 18+

tags: None. No spoilers in my finales!

summary: It's go time.

a/n: Y'ALL. Who knew this ATTEMPTED ONE-SHOT would end up being this fuckin' long and make me fall even deeper in love with the amazing trash panda/rat king Dieter Bravo? It was a labor of love, that's for sure (see what I did there? heh heh). I should note, your girl's never had a baby and I'm pretty sure a bunch of the shit here is inaccurate and borderline unsafe. OH WELL. This is a Hollywood romance type story so suspend your disbelief, k?

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS MEAN YOU LIKE ME AND THAT MAKES ME WANNA KEEP WRITING.

[ ppppsssssstttttt if you wanna be nice and send a broke writer some cash because you like her writing and her stories and they made you happy, the paypal addy is [email protected] because ko-fi is givin me a headache. ]

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

"This can't be happening," you say in the passenger seat as Dieter speeds you both towards the hospital. "He's not due for another week."

"He's a Bravo," Dieter tells you in a tight voice. "Bravo's never fucking do what they're supposed to. It's part of our charm."

You let out an agonized wail as he speeds around the corner, holding your belly as you lurch back. He spins down the highway, honking at passersby. When half the vehicle ends up on the highway you shout at him to drive normally.

When you settle, Dieter presses a button in his dash and your mom's number comes up. You hear a phone ringing in the car and then your mother's voice soft on the other end. There are hospital noises in the background, she’s at work.

"Hello Didi-"

"Hey Mimi," he says breathlessly interrupting her. "It's go time. Our girl's water broke."

"Oh my goodness," you can hear your mother flapping around in excitement. "I'll be there! I just have to get someone to cover my shift! Oh he’s early! I’ll see you soon, loves!"

"See you soon."

The call ends and you're left staring at the man intently focused on driving.

"Did you just call my mother Mimi?"

"Yeah," Dieter says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "It's my nickname for her."

Didi and Mimi? What the fuck? How did he get Mimi?

Before you can question their weird interaction further your hands grip around your middle, the strange stabbing sensation increasing with every mile that passes between the house and the hospital.

Thankfully Dieter gets you there quickly, pulling into the hospital's ambulance lane helping you out of the car.

"You can't park there," a man shouts after the two of you. Dieter gives him the finger before helping you onto the sidewalk. You can barely move and you double over, hissing before you can reach the doors. When you are able to right yourself again Dieter is there with a wheelchair he urges you back into.

"Dieter where did you get this?"

"Some old guy smoking on a bench."

"Dieter!"

"Relax," Dieter insists as he rolls you to the front desk. "He won't miss it."

Dieter feels like he's vibrating. After that emotional decree to you he was certain you'd been striding towards him before you doubled over in pain. But now he's not certain. As he follows the nurse now wheeling you to the private suite he's wondering if it was just wishful thinking.

But he doesn't have time to worry about that right now. You're whimpering in pain, one hand over your belly, the other groping the air next to you.

"Are you Dieter Bravo?"

A voice sounds out beside him but he ignores it.

"Can I get your picture?"

"Why are you here?"

He ignores them all, rushing to the side and grabbing your hand as they wheel you into the large private suite.

The space is beautiful if not sterile. Nurses file in, helping you into a pale pink robe before urging you back into the hospital bed.

Dieter steps back to give the medical staff room but it hurts him to be even this far from you. Your feet go in the stirrups and Dieter feels his heart crack. You look so tired, so scared there in the hospital bed.

"You gotta be gowned up, Dad," a nurse says helping Dieter into a blue gown. A hairnet is forced over his unruly locks and a mask over his face. He feels like he's getting ready for another part in a movie, dressing in costume.

Nurses crowd around you, taking your temperature, urging a device onto your finger. There's chattering, movement like some strange ballet.

"She's already nine centimetres."

"Call Doctor March in."

"Dieter!"

Your voice cuts through the overlapping chatter. He moves through the throng, going to your side, ignoring the huffs of irritated medical staff. You gaze up at him through watery eyes and Dieter feels a swell of indignation rise as he watches you squirm in pain.

“Where’s the fucking drugs?”

“It’s too late for an epidural,” the nurse tells you both cringing. “She’s too far along. I’m sorry-“

“What the fuck? I can’t do it without drugs! I can’t do this!” Your eyes are wide and terrified. You glance up at Dieter. “It’s going to hurt! Don’t make me do this!”

“You can do this,” Dieter insists, his thumb rubbing your palm soothingly. “You’re the strongest woman I know. You could do this in your sleep.”

"I can't do this," you whimper, terrified of what's about to happen.

What if something goes wrong? You've read about losing blood about emergency C-sections.

"You can," Dieter says, eyes big and beautiful. He cups your face in his large palms. "You've got this."

"No, I can't," you insist, eyes watery. "I... I'm not strong enough."

"Baby, that's not true. Who got me on SNL after my DUI even after they turned me down twice?”

“Me.”

“And who got me out of my contract for Hot Ones when I found out the chicken wasn’t organic?”

“M-me,” you cringe as a stab of pain goes through you. You can feel the nurse probing to see how far along you are, but all you can focus on is Dieter’s face in front of yours.

“And who wrangled me out of Russia with only a fake passport and a bad accent?”

“Me!”

“That’s right,” Dieter insists, his voice proud. “You don’t take shit from anybody, baby.”

The doctor swans in, a serious looking woman who spares a brief smile for you and Dieter as she reads your chart.

"Hi Mom and Dad, I'm Doctor March and I'll be delivering your son today."

You both give her a weak greeting before she sits on the rolling stool between your parted legs. Dieter isn't looking there though. His eyes are fixed firmly on your face. Your head is tossed back, your forehead damp with sweat.

"Alright Mom, you're ten centimetres so I'm gonna need you to start pushing."

Dieter watches your face blanch and feels a chill go through him at the terror in your face. You look up at him, tears clinging to your lashes.

Dieter doesn't even think. He toes off his shoes and crawls onto the hospital bed next to you. The nearest nurse shouts at him from behind her mask, hand reaching for him.

"Sir, you are not allowed in the bed-"

"I'm staying," Dieter snarls settling in behind you. His long legs go to either side of you, bracketing your body. You lean back against him, relief flooding you at his nearness.

"Sir, I'll call security-"

"Just let him stay!" You cry out. "Please!"

All of a sudden a pain rips through you, causing you to jerk back against Dieter's chest and give out a sharp shriek.

"Baby's coming," the doctor says irritably. "Nurse, I need you here."

The woman scowls at Dieter from behind her mask. The staff begins talking to one another and everything feels like it's happening too quickly.

"Alright Mom, gonna need you to push."

Your fingers dig into Dieters thigh. You feel like the lights are too bright and the room is too cold and the entire thing is just too… scary. You're brows pinch together in anxiety.

"C'mon baby mama," Dieter urges at your temple. "This is all you. You can do it."

You try your hardest, gritting your teeth and trying to push with all your might. But you can't do it. There's too much noise and chaos and the only thing that's keeping you grounded is the warmth of Dieter behind you.

Dieter feels your trembling body and wishes more than anything that he could calm you with his touch alone. Dr. March is calling things out to you but all Dieter can focus on is the way your eyes are darting around the room, the way your body feels trembling against him.

"S'too much," you groan. "Can't do it."

"You are," Dieter insists, his hand over yours braced on his thigh. "C'mon, I know you can keep going. You're so fucking strong."

"I can't," you weep, your body aching and breathing shallow. "I can't-"

"Who chased me down to the Chateau Marmont and snuck into a celebrity party just so she could return a watch to Cartier?"

"M-me," you groan as another ripple of pain goes through you. Dieter sees the doctor leaning forward, disappearing under your gown.

"And who threw me into a shower to get sober for an interview on her first day?"

"Me."

"That’s right,” Dieter smiles, recalling your first introduction to one another. “Know why? Because you don't take shit from anyone and you're not starting now. You show that baby who’s in charge.”

Something in his voice gives you resolve. You nod, hands going to his knees and bracing. You tilt back as you push, head falling on Dieter's shoulder.

"Push," the doctor commands again calmly.

This goes on for what feels like forever. You straining, pushing and crying out in pain as Dieter cradles you between his legs, ensuring how good you’re doing.

"Good job, good job," doctor March encourages.

“That's my girl," Dieter murmurs proudly in your ear. It makes you want to sob.

"One more big push," doctor March says.

You're exhausted and shaky and you don't want to do this. It wasn't supposed to be today. You had a week. You planned it out. This is all too soon.

"No more," you groan, sweat beading along your forehead. You don't want to let go of your son. Not yet.

It feels unnatural to have carried him so long just to be removed from your body this way. He feels like a part of you, like was always meant to nestle under your ribs. It's like removing your own heart.

Dieter lowers his mask and pushes back the sweaty hair from your face, replacing it with a sweet kiss.

"C'mon baby," Dieter insists, his voice a rasp in your ear. "He's almost here. Our son's almost here."

Our son. Yours and Dieter's.

Despite the frenzy of the moment your eyes drift from the doctors head between your legs up to Dieter.

"Our son," you echo weakly.

He's staring down at you, dark eyes so full of adoration. He's nodding, smiling gently at you.

"Our little boy," Dieter says, kissing your damp cheek. "And we're so close to meeting him baby; you just gotta push one more time. Can you do it for me? For him?"

Yes. You can.

You give out an animalistic growl that turns into a shriek. Dieter continues to hold your arms, murmuring that you're so brave, so beautiful.

"Holy shit I can see hair," Dieter whispers against your cheek, peering over your belly to see as the doctor encourages your son forward.

You give one last guttural scream, arching in Dieter’s arms before you feel that stinging between your legs settle. And then the most beautiful sound in the world - the tremoring wail of your sons first breath.

"It's him. He's here."

There is awe there in Dieter’s voice, his eyes wide as he watches the moment his son is pulled from you. Feels his heart constrict as this tiny boy gives out a shuddering cry for the very first time.

Dieter laughs through tears as he watches his son, gold and puffy emerge, his smile dropping as he views patches of white creamy something over his body.

"Wait, what the fuck is that?" Dieter all but shouts. For a horrible moment he's terrified that it's from him fucking you so deeply last night.

"Vernix caseosa," the nurse says with laughter in her voice despite everything. "Protects him from the amniotic fluid in the womb."

Dieter sighs in relief as the squirming baby is pressed to your bare chest for skin-to-skin contact. Your chest is exposed but for once Dieter isn’t horny. He’s just struck dumb at the sight of this small creature nestling there against your body.

"Hi little boy."

Your son lifts his head shakily, eyes blinking slowly, blurrily trying to take you in. He knows your voice, his face instinctually tilting in your direction. Dieter gazes down at you, tears spilling over his cheeks as he sees the love so clear in your gaze.

"It's you," you whisper down at the cherub-like face of your son.

I'd know you anywhere.

Because you would. You don't know how but the second you see his chubby cheeks and long lashes you just know exactly who he is. You would have known him anywhere. He's a part of you. He's been a part of you so long it's surreal to see him outside, here against your skin on this side.

"Look at all his hair," Dieter marvels. "You were right."

He's tiny with long legs and a thick head of dark curls. His skin is a golden color and his fingers long like his dad’s. He’s got your ears and your toes though, and the sight makes you feel strangely giddy. That’s you in this little body, a small piece of you.

The doctor and nurses murmur at your feet, and you feel relief when one says "all good". No emergency blood loss, no anything. The sound of a pager goes off and doctor March stands.

"Got another delivery down the hall. Must be a full moon or something. Congrats mom and dad!"

"Thank you, Doctor March."

The doctor and most of the nurses file out of the room; leaving only two nurses standing beside the bed making notes on a clipboard before one gently removes your son from your chest. You give a little whimper of protest, eyes going wide.

"Just gonna weigh him and we'll bring him right back, Mom."

You watch them leave, already feeling incomplete without him there against you. You feel tears welling at your lash line.

"He's perfect," you say through hiccups.

You feel as Dieter shifts behind you, gingerly removing himself from the bed. He makes sure to do so slowly, ensuring you're propped up comfortably for when they bring your squirming newborn back.

"You did such a good job, baby," Dieter says, kissing your temple before his attention is drawn back to his son being weighed and measured. "Can't believe he's finally here."

You both watch as your son squirms and grunts during his examination, smiling gently when they lift him up and the tall one announces: "Seven pounds, three ounces and twenty one inches."

Dieter holds back his desire to make a dick joke.

The nurse holds your son clad in a tiny diaper. He looks so tiny in her hands. She prepares to hand him back to you but Dieter looks strangely animated, reaching into your go-bag bag next to the bed.

"Oh shit, I almost forgot. Petra made him this."

It's a tiny blue knitted hat. Both the nurses give girlish awwwww's at the sight of it. One gingerly puts it on your sons head before smiling at you.

"Okay Mom, let's do some more skin to skin and see if he'll eat in a little bit."

Mom. Mom. Mom. You’re a mom.

You're already nodding, arms outstretched. It feels wrong not to have him against you right now. The nurses help to wrap the robe you're wearing around him, almost like a swaddle.

You breathe slowly, taking in every second of this moment. He's so fucking small and his eyebrows are so tiny. Everything is just so little.

His mouth smacks together, grunting as his pink lips strain towards your nipple when they place him on your chest.

"Like father like son," you murmur to Dieter, so quiet only he can hear. He gives a loud chuckle and his son makes a small hiccupping sound in surprise. Dieter’s long fingers trace down his son’s back, marveling at the softness of his skin.

"I'm a Dad," Dieter murmurs, as if it's just hitting him now. His eyes slowly travel over to you, your gaze locked on the squirming infant on your chest. "And you're a mom."

"I'm a mom," you whisper and it feels right when you say it.

You were always his mom, from the moment he began to grow in your womb. You were mom. He'd known it long before you had. The kicks and the flutters. He knew you were his and tried to remind you at every turn.

"Thank you," Dieter whispers, eyes damp. "Thank you for bringing him to me."

"Thank you for helping me make him," you whisper back, the hot tears staining your cheeks. "Fuck, I feel like all I've done lately is cry."

Dieter and you share a laugh while the nurses call out that they'll be back to check on you three in a little while, pointing out the call button beside your bed if there's an issue.

They close the door to the suite behind them and suddenly the room is quiet, save for the sound of your son grunting against your chest as he gets comfortable.

"I want to be his mom."

"You are," Dieter says with a smile as he grabs the chair next to the hospital bed, his large palm resting on his son's back lightly when he settles back.

"No I mean... I want to be in his life. I want to see him every day. I want to help raise him."

You see the way Dieter’s body jerks as if he's been slapped. He stares over at you, eyes wide.

"You do?"

"Yeah," you sniffle. "Is that okay?"

"Are you kidding me?" Dieter is leaning over you gently, kissing you so soundly you whimper.

He pulls back, but not before giving a gentle kiss to the top of his sons head.

His eyes search yours, the sweet chestnut color softening the longer he looks at you. He brushes the hair from your face, thumb lingering on your jaw.

"That's all I've ever wanted."

The sincerity is there in both his expression and his husky voice. He means it. And suddenly guilt is the emotion that overtakes you, almost surging through your veins.

"I feel so guilty," you say, overcome with emotion. Your son makes a little squeaking noise before settling.

“Why, baby?”

“Because I closed myself off to everyone. Even him.”

How could you have ever thought of giving your son away? How could you have imagined he was nothing but cargo to be bartered? You kiss the top of his head, hoping that a lifetime of love will make up for months of apathy.

"I think losing my dad just made me so scared of loving someone else," you sniffle, kissing your son's downy head. "I mean my dad was a part of me. And now-"

You look down at your newborn son. The scrunch of his face as he yawns and you think that you've never seen anything quite as beautiful before.

"He's a part of me," you say softly. The tears fall down your cheeks without effort. "And he's the most perfect thing I've ever seen."

Dieter gazes down at his son. "He really is."

"I thought if I could just separate my feelings I could do it, you know? I could walk away unhurt. But then..."

You break off, but Dieter is riveted. "Then what?"

Your eyes blink furiously.

"That day I saw him for the first time I knew I couldn't walk away. I knew it. But I told myself I had to. That I couldn't stay attached."

This hurts Dieter. Knowing that it was months of this personal torture hurts him in a way that makes him breathless.

"Why, baby?"

"Because losing something you love breaks you. It takes a piece from you that never comes back." You rock your son gently. "And I've never loved anything as much as him. Even before he was here."

You’re trying in vain to hold the sobs back now. Your son makes a frowning face, lips smacking together once more before you falls back into his drowsy slumber.

"And I'm scared," you whisper. "Terrified, actually."

Dieter suddenly understands it all. The loss of you father, your inability to cope, your need for control and order. He sees how this challenged all of it and his heart shatters. Dieter runs his hands through your hair, pressing kisses to your cheek as he gently soothes you. You're crying, eyes squeezed shut.

"It's okay to be scared," Dieter murmurs against your ear. "I'm scared too."

You're exhausted and sore and emotionally wrung out. But that doesn't stop you from smiling gently up at him, hand going to brush the tears clinging to his lashes.

Soon the emotional and physical exhaustion comes in, lulling you into a slow slumber. Dieter watches the two loves of his life sleeping, both making the same little nose scrunches in their sleep. He sees so much of you in his son, the curve of his ears, the full of his upper lip. It makes him feel warm and contented.

You haven't confessed any long standing love for Dieter, but now that his son is here and you want to be a part of his life it doesn't matter. You'll be near him and that's enough for Dieter, even if that's all he can have. You'll be the most amazing mother and he'll support you any way he can. Of course it's been a draining day and he feels his emotions spinning off in all directions, but with a rosy hue of compassion.

Of course it hurts that you likely don't feel the same for him.

Images of Dieter and a toddler son dressed in suits dance across his exhausted mind. You under an arch in a wedding dress, leaning down with a smile and arms open as you son toddles down the aisle towards you. You marrying someone else, but with Dieter's support. Dieter doesn't look forward to the day you find your future husband, but he'll support it.

Love always felt selfish for Dieter. A way of staking claim: mine. But this love feels different. He just wants you happy. That's good enough for him.

One of the nurses comes back a short while later and you're still dozing with your son sleeping on your chest. One of the nurses pushes in a bassinet on wheels.

"Gonna put him in this so Mom can get some real rest," one of the nurses tells Dieter in a hush. "Do we have a name yet, Dad?"

"No, not yet," Dieter whispers back. "Can I put him in it?"

"Of course," the nurse says happily. "You know the correct hold?"

She shows him how to correctly hold the newborn supporting his neck and his spine. Then she leaves giving him a quiet congratulations.

Dieter looks down into his arms, rocking the small child - his son - gingerly as he begins to blubber. The tears slide down his nose and one lands on his son's bare belly. He twitches in his sleep before yawning and blinking up at Dieter.

And he feels it pass between them, this ancient sensation of home, of lineage, of love. Dieter thinks of his own father and his ambivalence. He can't understand how he could have ever walked away from his own creation. He stops crying long enough to see his son give a flash of a smile and then fall promptly back to sleep.

"You have your whole life ahead of you," Dieter tells his son, going to stand at the window, looking out into the sunshine filled day. "This world is just yours to conquer. Me and your Mama are gonna be there every step of the way."

You stir in the bed when you hear Dieter’s gentle rasp from the other side of the room. Your eyes flutter open to see him holding your son by the window, rocking him.

"Gonna give you everything I didn't have, gonna spend time with you and play catch and all that good dad shit."

You giggle gently at this, drawing Dieters attention your way.

"Did I wake you?"

You shake your head, watching with adoration as the man you love comes walking back with your son. You think Dieter has never been as perfect or as beautiful to you as when he’s holding your son safely in his broad arms.

"He needs a name," you murmur, watching your dozing child. "Where's your list?"

"Up here," Dieter says tapping his temple with his free hand before looking down at the slumbering infant in his arms. "But... Now that I see him, none of ‘em fit."

"Hmmmm," you purse your lips in thought, watching as Dieter carefully places him in the bassinet. The two of you lean over, watching your son in mild awe. A thought occurs to you.

"My mom doesn't know what room we're in."

"Oh I already texted her," Dieter says. "She's stuck in fucking LA traffic of course. She should be here soon. Lemme check.”

He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out and dropping his keys in the process. He picks them up and the keychain makes a soft clinking noise. The baby stirs in the bassinet, kicking out his tiny legs and tilting his head in the direction of the keys.

Dieter grins, holding them above his son. You see the green Jameson bottle from Ireland hanging off of it. You both look on as your tiny son’s fists tap against the enamel item, sending it spinning.

“He’s got good taste,” Dieter grins. “I’ll have to take him when he’s older.”

“Much older,” you say with mock warning.

The keychain spins again as the baby attempts to grip it with his tiny fingers. But he can’t, it’s much too early for that kind of coordination. The name of the brewery glints in the light and then like a flash you both meet eyes over the bassinet.

"Jameson." Dieter breathes with a crooked grin. "James."

"James Bravo.”

The two of you smile so widely your faces might break.

“I love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It’s perfect. Hello James.”

Dieter and you gaze down at your son who’s now grown still, sleeping deeply.

“Now we just need a middle name," you say quietly as the two of you sit staring at him.

"What was your dad's name again?" Dieter asks quietly after a beat. "Michael, right?"

You slowly gaze up the length of Dieter, seeing the soft way he's looking at the baby and then over at you. Something swells behind your sternum.

"Yeah, Michael."

"That's a nice name," Dieter nods before smiling down at the squirming infant. "A good middle name for our son."

Our son.

Affection hits you like a ton of bricks in that moment. The fact that he remembered your dad's name. The way he calls Jameson your son as much as he is his own. The way he loves you so fucking ardently, the way he wanted to take care of you even if you didn’t feel the same as he did.

You think of this past year with Dieter, all the ways he showed her loved you, the way he protected you. You think of nights in his arms, laughing with him and the way you don't want to be without him anymore. You stare up at him from the bed, taking in the sleepy edge of his eyes, the tussled hair, the full mouth. He's fucking beautiful. How did you miss it this long?

You don't want anyone else. You just want him.

"Will you marry me?" you whisper without thought.

Dieter blinks over at you, eyes rounding and for a moment you tense. He's made it clear that he cares for you but maybe this is too much too fast. You haven’t exactly been forward with how you feel about him until now.

"You wanna marry me?"

"Yeah," you say smiling dopily up at him. "I do."

Dieter lets out a little sound somewhere between a laugh and a gasp and before you can say anything more his broad palms are on either side of your face, holding you there so that he can kiss you soundly before pulling back, looking concerned.

"Might be the drugs," he worries.

"No drugs remember?"

"Might be post birth delirium."

"I don't think that's it," you assure him, thumb stroking the patch in his beard that doesn't grow. "Might be because I've never had someone care for me like you do. Might be because I don't want to be apart from you or our son. Might be because I'm madly in love with you and have been for a while now. Might be because I’ve never loved someone the way I love you."

Dieter feels like his heart is expanding so rapidly it might crack his ribcage. Seeing you there in the bed with your hair disheveled, your face flushed and your eyes starry and soft as you gaze up at him, Dieter feels an almost incapacitating sensation of adoration for you.

You're so rarely soft with anyone. Because of this he knows what you've admitted is monumental for so many reasons. Tears spring to his eyes, and his smile is watery.

You picked him. You want him.

He clamors into the bed next to you again, pulling you into his arms gingerly. His mouth is pressing against yours again, wet eyes squeezed shut. He holds you with the kind of care and affection he has always shown you.

"Fuck yes I'll marry you," he whispers against your lips.

You giggle against his mouth when he kisses you again and the sound hits him everywhere.

"I want you to come home with our son as my wife and I want to make you two the happiest people alive."

He melts against you as your arms wrap around his neck, fingers trailing in the curls at the base of his skull.

"I love you, Dieter."

He whispers his love for you against your neck, rocking you. You let him kiss you slowly, mouths moving languidly. You sigh as he dabs his tongue against yours before he abruptly pulls back.

He pushes back from the bed, gaze suddenly distracted. It startles you.

"Diet-"

Before you can even finish his name he's taken off, his crocs slapping against the hospital floor. Then it’s just you and James in the suite, shaking your head with a laugh.

"What is your dad up to?" You ask the sleepy baby in the bassinet. You turn back to face the doorway, heart leaping when you recognize a woman in scrubs strolling by.

"Mom!"

Your Mom is already sobbing when she runs into the room and you expect her to make a run directly for the baby. But instead she’s going to you, holding your face in her hands and kissing your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, the fucking traffic-“

“It’s okay,” you assure her. “Dieter was and he was wonderful.”

“He’s early,” she comments, eyes flitting to the bassinet before going back to you.

"Just like his dad, he has a flair for the dramatic," you grin. "Couldn't wait until his due date."

“How are you feeling?”

“Good Mom, I promise,” you say, smirking at her frazzled expression. Your mother takes a deep breath, nodding. She shrugs off her jacket before going to scrub her hands in the sink. She comes back over to you, her eyes wet.

“I’m so proud of you. Your dad would be too.”

You let the tears fall again, accepting that this is just what you do now, you cry all the fucking time. Your mother stands next to the bed, holding you around the shoulders and rocking you like she did when you were little. You cry into her shoulder, overwhelmed and hormonal.

“So do you want to meet my son?” you ask sniffling.

Your mother’s eyes alight to the bassinet before drawing back to you.

“Your son?”

“My son,” you confirm, chin wobbling. “Your grandson. Jameson Michael Bravo. James for short.”

And now your Mom bursts into tears, thick fat ones that pour down her cheeks. And you know she’s not crying for James, or for the beauty of this birth. She sniffles heavily before going over to the bassinet. She sees Jameson's shock of dark hair and you watch her melt.

"Oh he's beautiful."

“You might be a bit biased.”

"I am," she laughs.

The two of you are still laughing when Dieter returns to the room slightly out of breath, a young man in tow. When he sees your mother he waves and pulls her into a tight hug. You watch the two of them embrace, still shocked at their closeness.

"Mimi! Perfect, we need a witness."

You realize now that the young man Dieter urges over to your bed is wearing a collar and holding a bible.

"Dieter, why have you brought a priest here?"

"He just gave last rites to some guy on the other floor," Dieter explains with a wide beaming grin. "I told him about you and me and he said he'd be happy to perform the ceremony right now."

Dieter is absolutely lack of impulse control personified.

You're about to answer when you hear the sound of your mother's voice.

"No, no, no," your mother tuts, shaking her head. "You are not getting married in a hospital ten minutes after giving birth."

Dieter gives her imploring eyes. "But Mimi-"

"Didi, you and my daughter got pregnant, hid it, gave birth and are now engaged." Your mother lists these off with sharp clarity. "I beg of you, let me have my way with this. I only get to be mother of the bride once."

“Okay,” Dieter relents, understanding that perhaps this is a fair compromise.

He debates something for a moment before taking your right hand. The claddagh ring he bought you is tight thanks to the pregnancy, but it finally slips off. He slips it onto your left finger, heart facing out.

And so the wedding is postponed for six months.

(If you’re honest, you’re pretty relieved. Getting married wearing a sweaty hospital robe while your vagina healed wasn’t exactly your idea of a dream scenario.) It takes about that long to move all your things into Dieter’s place and to get life sort of under control.

Being together as a family of three is better than you could have ever imagined it. You’re both fucking exhausted and unwashed for the first few weeks, but it doesn’t matter because you’re doing it together.

Watching Dieter as a father makes you fall in love with him in a completely different way. Watching as he carries your son in his arms, gently swaying him after being fed.

"He smells so good," he murmurs.

Dieter is as much a parent as you are, insisting that you did the heavy lifting for the last nine months and that he should do his part. The first time he tells you this after changing and putting James back down at 2 am you suck Dieter’s cock so well he almost cries.

Your mother all but moved in the first three weeks insisting that you’d need her help. As much as you wanted to deny this, Dieter had been excitedly setting up the guest house for her before the offer was out of her mouth. Roach free.

You definitely get on each other’s nerves for the following months, tired and grouchy at times. Petra and Magda are there and like to give advice. Sometimes you take it; sometimes you and Dieter roll your eyes at one another.

But mostly you grin stupidly at each other and kiss like you’re in high school. You love kissing. He’s so sweet and gentle until he’s licking into your mouth and grinding against you on the couch. Dieter doesn’t want to rush you into bed after the birth so it’s you two months post partum who tackles him during James’ nap time and rides him, telling him he’s “such a good Daddy.”

Dieter is in heaven. That’s the only way to describe it.

“I love you,” you murmur in the mornings when he brings you over a smoothie. He always kisses you slow and sweet before replying.

“I love you too, baby.”

This love, this free flowing mutual adoration incapacitates him at times. It brings him to his knees knowing that his love is returned in equal measure. His phone is full of covert photos he’s taken of you with James. His favorite is the one of you passed out on the couch. You’re wearing only your panties and socks. Your hair is unkempt and James snuggles against you, both back lit by the early morning sun.

He wants to show everyone the photo, wants to tell everyone proudly that this is his son and soon-to-be-wife. But you’ve made it very clear that while Dieter is fine with the spotlight, your son will not be until he’s old enough to choose it.

He shares only one photo on his social media announcing the birth. One of Jameson’s left foot with the caption: He’s finally here.

Diane approved it.

You’re relaxing in the tufted chair in the nursery, feeding James when an alert comes through on your phone.

Bravo spotted looking at engagement rings.

Oh right. You still have his name flagged for alerts.

You smile a little to yourself as you read the article about Dieter travelling all over California in search of the perfect ring. Your heart races even though you know very well that you're getting married shortly.

There's another alert ding on your phone and you see it's a text from Mia.

[3:21pm] MIA: Congrats lovebirds. I knew he'd get his shit together eventually. So happy for you both.

You grin widely.

You didn't expect to find such deep affection for Mia, but you can't help but love her. After all, without her you may never have truly faced how you felt about Dieter. And from the stories Dieter has told you over the last few months, Mia may have been instrumental in the two of you getting together in the first place. It’s what prompts you to reply with a photo of you and James snuggling.

[3:22pm] Any chance you feel like taking on the role of godmother?

You and Dieter had talked about it; he’d been worried you’d think it strange. But it hadn’t felt strange at all. It had felt somehow right that she be a part of James’ life.

[3:22pm] MIA: Thought you’d never ask.

The wedding is an intimate one of less than fifty people. Your dress is over the top and exactly the kind of thing that Dieter imagined you in. Your son is done up in the tiniest and most elaborate baby tuxedo you’ve ever seen. You both cry all the way through your vows as your mother sits with James in the front row, a picture of your father beside her.

The wedding takes place in a sweet little village in Chile where Dieter grew up. It’s where his parents met and where his mother is buried. He has a few relatives there who insist on helping with everything.

Dieter isn’t expecting the emotions that come flooding back. Ones that take his breath away when he sees the photos of his mom still hung in his Aunt’s house. The ones of him missing teeth, arms around her and a look of absolute contentment in his youthful features.

“She would have loved you both so much,” he whispers as the two of you stare at them.

“I know, baby.”

And just like when he took your hand and led you through that sea of paparazzi, you take his hand and do the same. You guide him through the first few days where he feels emotionally raw and strangely quiet. You lead him through the days of family reunion and wedding planning. And finally you take his hand and walk with him to the graveyard where his mother is buried.

He takes his son from you, kissing his tiny nose before kneeling in front of the tombstone. He places a hand on its marble surface and he lets the tears fall.

“Mama this is your grandson, James.”

Not long after you return home Dieter is called to do online press for a franchise he’s been signed on for. One that will keep him filming locally for the next couple of years. The interview is being streamed on Tiktok Live, much to your amusement as you watch from home, reclined with a sleeping James on your chest.

Dieter sits in one of the chairs, looking remarkably handsome as the interviewer asks him questions from those that pop up in the comment section. The viewers at home would never have known he’d been covered in baby puke only hours before.

“Mr. Bravo thank you so much for coming out.”

“My pleasure,” Dieter smiles. You sigh at how handsome he is just existing. Your eyes draw down to the comment section that pops up, many of them causing you to giggle to yourself as you read them.

He’s so fucking hotttt Hit my line, Daddy, plz SPIT IN MY MOUTH Is he wearing a wedding ring??? I love his hair SHUT UP HE’S SO HOT. I’M EATING DRYWALL I have thots

“There’s a lot of frenzy from the comment section,” the interviewer says, shaking her blonde hair from her face and reading some of them out loud.

“User3766 wants to know: will you be wearing the cape that others have donned in the past for the same character?”

“Nah, I’m not a cape guy,” Dieter says shaking his head. “They seem a bit overdone.”

“That seems to be the consensus online,” the woman says with a nod and warm smile.

“GlitterPonyz asks: Why did you choose to be in this franchise after famously telling the world that after Cliff Beasts you were done with franchises altogether?”

“Because the filming takes place mostly around California which means I get to be home to my wife and son most nights,” Dieter says with a crooked grin.

"So the rumors are true?" The interviewer asks.

"Yep," Dieter smiles with a slight blush to his cheeks. "She'd have been Mrs. Bravo a long time ago if she wasn't so damn stubborn."

At this he winks playfully at the camera before the interviewer dives into more questions. You can almost feel Diane rolling her eyes in frustration off-screen.

"Dieter!" You groan with a pained laugh at your phone.

So much for waiting to share the good news! At least your mother knew about this one before the rest of the world.

Jameson stirs slightly in your arms, still sleepy and warm after swimming with auntie Madga and Petra all morning in the pool. He smells like the coconut lotion you rubbed into his pudgy arms and face and you inhale, sighing.

You compose a text to Dieter.

[11:02am]:You said we were gonna keep it quiet! [11:02am]D: Couldn't help it. Wanted everyone to know you're all mine.

You send a photo of Jameson that you took earlier.

[11:03am]: He says he's worried he'll be fatherless once Diane gets through with you. [11:03am]D: Nah. She told me she understood. [11:03am]: Really? [11:04am]D:Yeah. Said that a child and a wife could only help my image.

You laugh to yourself. You take another photo, this one of you and the baby in frame, you smiling up at him.

[11:05am]: We miss you. Xo [11:05am]D: Can't wait till I get home to you both. Shouldn't be too much longer. Love you baby mama!!!!! [11:05am]: We'll be waiting for you, baby. Love you more Xo

Your mother comes in smiling and carrying a cup of lemonade for you.

"So he couldn't keep it a secret," your mom says with an affectionate shake of her head as you tell her about the video.

"Silly boy."

She says it with a mother's fondness.

She takes Jameson from you, citing that she needs some time with her grandson as if she doesn’t already see him three times a week when she visits. You don’t mind at all.

Most of your days are taken up with James. Baby classes, hiking, swimming and more. Your education isn't going anywhere, but time with your son at this age is fleeting. You like that there's not that pressure to perform anymore.

When you do return to your studies after Jameson’s’ first birthday it’s for your love of learning, not because of some pressure you’ve put on yourself. You do a course once a semester online, just to keep yourself sharp for when you decide you'll return full time.

On days when you really have to study Dieter takes Jameson out to the park or for ice cream and you can hear him whispering "Shhh we have to be quiet so Mama can study and get even smarter!"

When you’re not doing that, you’re on the board for Dieter’s charity funding medical procedures in developing worlds. Something you find yourself so passionate about and as Dieter commented you spend his money well.

Award shows still have you on edge. The screaming and the flashbulbs always have you gripping Dieter, but he is always there with a hand at the small of your back, never letting you go. Sometimes if Dieter has to film overseas and you miss him even after hanging up with him, you watch old interviews or old movies with him in it. You can’t help but giggle every time you see him. When you watch The Rogue Heiress you giggle and send him off a photo of you pointing at the screen and winking. His response is immediate.

[9:07am]D: Missing your favorite sausage?

“Bravo!” you say with a light chuckle.

“Bwavoh!" A tiny voice echoes behind you.

Your son comes toddling towards you, his large eyes full of mischief just like his dad. His hair is your color, but it’s got those wild waves like his father. No matter how much you brush it, it’s still impossible to keep looking tidy.

"No, no baby," you say gathering your son into your arms and giggling. "That's Papa. See him?"

Jameson nods and claps at the screen where a serious looking Dieter frowns at his colleague.

"Papa!"

Jameson is three when you and Dieter decide to renovate the main bedroom. Now that your Masters is done and your attention not as fixated on it you want something a little more ‘you’ in the space and Dieter is more than happy to oblige. He’d tear down the whole thing if you wanted to.

You’re both midway through pulling out things from the big closet when he hears your muffled shout from the back.

“What the fuck?"

Dieter looks up to see you laughing.

“Why do you have an old camcorder in here?"

"I used to use it for.... Adult sleepovers," Dieter tells you with a sly grin. "When we wanted to...immortalize the moment if you will."

"Oooo," you give him a flirty wink. "And when was the last memorable performance captured?"

Dieter squints his eyes as he folds a blanket, trying to recall. "Uh, some blonde guy I was seeing for a bit. Ryan something."

You're immediately taken back to the time you walked in on Dieter with the hot guy blonde man with his head between Dieter's legs.

"Was he blonde with facial hair by any chance?"

"Uh, yeah," Dieter looks at you curiously.

You feel your thighs clenching tightly together. Dieter doesn't miss this and a mischievous smile crosses his features.

"You wanna watch it, baby?"

"I mean, Jameson is at Grandma's all night" you say with a cheeky grin. "Why don't you go get this hooked up to the television while I pop some wine?"

"Sounds perfect."

“Oh my gosh we look so young!”

“It was only four years ago, Dieter.”

“Yeah, but look at my hair.”

“Ugh, look at mine.”

“I love it.”

Dieter pulls you tighter to him, practically onto his lap as you watch the two of you drunkenly move onscreen.

"My name is Dieter Bravo and this is my assistant," he slurs as he motions to your wobbling frame attempting to stand beside him. "And we're making this video because we're gonna make a baby together."

You tilt towards the camera, your eyes half closed.

"And I want it on-on-on record," you stutter. "That I'm getting three hundred thousand dollars for this baby he's putting inside me right now."

You point to your stomach as Dieter nods blearily.

"We're so fucking drunk," you say with a laugh as you and Dieter sip your wine. "It's a miracle we didn't pass out before we got to the bed."

"I'm half convinced you picked it up from the toilet seat at this point, Christ. Did I just fall?"

You look back just in time to see Dieter tripping over himself onto the ground before jumping back up as if nothing happened.

"Okay, let's make the baby now," Dieter says, taking your hand in his.

"Okay!" You nod, walking with him towards the bed a few steps away.

"Left the fucking camera on," you say with a roll of your eyes. "So dumb."

"Too excited to get to the good stuff to remember things like turning off cameras," Dieter grins, fingers trailing down your spine in the soothing way he knows you like.

When you see Dieter sit on the edge of the bed and pull you into his lap you can't help but flush.

When he grabs your face and drags your mouth to his you're shocked to see how easily your arms wrap around his neck. This is further compounded by the obvious sight of your tongue slipping into his mouth, causing you both to groan onscreen.

You and Dieter hold your breath as you watch the screen. Despite it being yourselves only a year ago it feels strangely voyeuristic to watch these two morons kiss sloppily on the bed.

Suddenly you pull back, cheeks flushed and panting.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yeah," Dieter nods, looking excited. "I love secrets. And I'm good at keeping them. No one knows that Hugh and Taron fucked the whole time on-"

Dieter pauses, looking concerned.

"Oops, wasn't supposed to say."

You're only half paying attention because apparently undoing your strappy shoes is a struggle at this point. Dieter sees this and flops to the ground, tugging at them. You glance down at him with a smile when he finally unravels both.

"Tada!"

You give an exaggerated clap at if what he's done is truly remarkable. Dieter shifts into the center of the bed.

"So what's the secret?"

"My secret is I have a crush on my boss," you say with a drunken giggle as you kick off your heels and crawl towards him.

"Really?"

"Yeah." You draw your face to his. "But don't tell him."

You situate yourself on his lap, hips rolling against his.

"Okay I won't," Dieter agrees, his mouth chasing yours before he suddenly stops, eyes wide. "Wait, I'm your boss!"

"Oh right," you say, pulling at your shirt and giggling.

"Well well well," Dieter says from beside you on the couch his mouth on your ear. "Looks like someone had a crush on their boss the whole time."

Your cheeks burn as your drunken self makes this proclamation. You can’t stop watching as the two of your younger selves continue on.

You struggle with your bra for several moments as Dieter tugs off his clothes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

"Fuck you have nice tits," Dieter slurs as he leans back into the pillows.

"Yeah? I like em," you say proudly cupping them, running your fingertips over them until they're hard little buds. "Wanna touch em?"

"With my mouth."

"Okay."

“Still got nice tits,” Dieter says, hand slipping up your t-shirt. You sigh, leaning back against him and feeling as his palm cups your breast.

You keen onscreen, head tilted back as Dieter licks and sucks at your nipples before Dieter pulls his mouth from you.

"I like you," Dieter says almost shyly as you sit in his lap. He's holding you there, naked and waiting and instead of fucking you, he's looking into your face, utterly entranced. "I've liked you for a long time."

Your drunken self obviously isn't one for heartfelt remarks because as Dieter admits this, you have a mischievous look in your face.

" Do you touch yourself when you think of me?" You ask in a slur. It's not visible due to your positioning and the angle of the camera, but you can see that your hand goes to grip his cock and begin to stroke.

"Yeah," Dieter whimpers, eyes on your hand and then back to your face. "All the time."

You grin, your hand pumping him quickly. Dieter's face goes slack, eyes half closed as he leans back on his hands.

"Y-you gotta stop," Dieter grunts. "Or I'm gonna f-fuck, gonna come."

Your drunk self shrugs at this before you raise yourself up only to slide down his twitching length all the way until your cunt is nestled in the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. Immediately his arms are around you, holding you as your hips move against his.

You sigh, head lolling forward as Dieter whimpers.

"Wanted to fuck you for so long, Dieter."

Even in his drunken state, Dieter looks shocked at your murmured admission.

"Yeah?”

"Yeah," you nod, wrists on his shoulders. "Ever since I saw you with the blonde man... I just .. oh fuck, right there... Fuck... Ever since I saw you with him I couldn't stop thinking about how it would feel to ride your cock."

"Fuck," Dieter groans, mouth kissing down your sternum. "You're riding it so well, baby."

"Wanted to bounce on it," you say breathlessly.

Dieter makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

"Fuck, bounce on it," Dieter all but begs, gazing up at you face. "Bounce on it for me now."

You do, sliding your feet to either side of his hips. You arch back, sliding up his glossy length before sinking down onto it. You do this several times and with each pass Dieters moans get louder. You tits jolt with every bounce.

You are not immune to Dieter's cock lengthening in his sweatpants under you.

"You're so fucking big," you groan, hips rutting against his.

"Keep talking," Dieter all but begs as he starts to fuck up into you. "Keep going, baby, I'm so fucking hard right now."

"Wanna do this all the time," you groan, arms behind your neck, stretching lazily above you, showcasing your body, your tits, your sensuality.

"Fuck, you do?" Dieter pants, his hand going to caress your ass as you roll your hips.

"Uh huh," you nod, your rhythm increasing as your arms go around his neck. "Wanna do this every night and then go out for pancakes."

"I love pancakes," Dieter enthuses. Your head moves towards his, eyes half open.

"So we'll get pancakes?"

"Yes, baby," Dieter promises, mouth finding yours.

You give a satisfied hum as his arms go around you and he gently maneuvers you onto your back. He holds your hands on either side of your head, fingers laced as he gently sinks into you.

He groans when he watches your head tilt back into the pillow, exposing your throat and your tits.

"Dieter, it’s so fucking good," you groan as your head tilts back, eyes closed. "How do you feel so fucking good?"

"You're so fucking gorgeous," he murmurs, eyes transfixed on your rolling breasts.

His hips drive into you now, but it's slow and tender. Your thighs flex slowly around his middle. You're soaked, practically dripping onto his sheets. Your eyes are open, glossy and gazing up into his face.

"Never knew it could feel this good," you murmur up at him.

"It doesn't usually," Dieter grins down at you. "You must have a magic pussy or something."

"Christ," Dieter mutters, holding a hand over his eyes in embarrassment.

You've been hiding your face in your hands, humiliated at everything showing up on the screen. But at Dieter’s admission you can’t help but bark out a laugh.

“Magic pussy, Dieter? Really?”

“I swear I’ve never used that term before.”

The two of you continue writhing slowly against one another on the screen for what feels like forever. The sounds of your kissing and your moans flooding the room.

"You close?" Dieter groans, tongue coming to lick your neck.

"Uh huh," you nod, your hips starting to rut against his in earnest. Dieter still holds your hands pinned to the mattress as he drives himself up into you, his movements still slow and measured.

"C'mon baby," he encourages. "I wanna feel it."

"Yes," you breathe, hips rolling against his. "Fuck yes, I-"

You've never watched yourself orgasm before. The sight isn't anything like porn. You don't make cute little faces or noises.

You arch almost violently, brows knitting together as you make a stuttering cry in the back of your throat. Dieter fucks you through it, eyes transfixed.

"Fuck baby, yes, just like that. Oh fuck, come for me."

You shudder around him, your voice cracked as you cry out his name. Dieter kisses his name from your lips before he begins to piston in and out of you, grunting your name before he too follows. His body shivers as he finally empties himself into you.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, panting heavily and gazing into one another’s eyes. Then he dips his face to yours, capturing your mouth in a soft kiss. He pulls slowly away from you, averting his eyes as you pull on your dress.

You roll onto your side, facing Dieter. Your arm goes around his neck, and to Dieter's obvious delight, you kiss him gently. Then you spin around, facing the camera once more with your eyes closed and a little smile on your face.

"Goodnight," Dieter says, pulling your back against him.

"Night," you reply back with a yawn, snuggling back into his embrace.

The two of you lay like this for a moment and Dieter raises the remote, about to turn the video off when you hear his voice on the recording.

"I hope we made a baby," Dieter murmurs, eyes closed.

You smile, hand going to cover Dieters at your waist.

"Me too."

The tape continues on with the two of you sleeping. After a minute Dieter turns it off and the two of you lapse into a thoughtful silence. You’re still in his lap and you tilt your head to face him, seeing his eyes damp.

Your heart hiccups at the realization that you both wanted each other long before you could even understand it. Your mouth finds his, and it’s not long before the moment is heated, his hand crawling up your shirt again.

"Fuck baby, I need you," Dieter groans, tugging your panties off. He stops for a moment, hand groping in his sweatpants pockets for a condom.

“Don’t,” you say, hand coming to rest over his. “Let’s do it without.”

You’ve been thinking about it for a few months now, surprising even yourself. You thought you’d never want to be pregnant again, but thoughts of a dark-eyed girl with a dimple in her cheek have been there in your dreams as of late.

“Really?”

“Thought we could do it properly this time,” you tell him with a soft kiss, arms around his broad shoulders. “Baby showers, Lamaze classes, being in love at the same time and all that.”

You wait for his decision, nibbling at your lower lip. Dieter beams, holding you tightly to him and marveling that you’re here, still as in love with him as he is with you. He kisses you sweetly, mouth curled into a smile.

“I mean it’s unconventional but I’d love to give it a shot.”

-------------------------------------

a/n: Thanks to everyone who loved Bubble as much as me.

One thing I do wanna address is that I wanna make it clear that women do not have to have children to be a family. You can be a family with just your partner. I also don't believe in shaming those who chose to remain childless (I'm the president of that club) or women that choose to have them (thank you! I love being an auntie!)

Okay, that's a wrap folks - onto my next tale!

-------------------------------------

taglist: @caramilena @lovely-vamp-princess @annieispunk @lu62 @getitoutofmymindwrites @noisynightmarepoetry @lizzie-cakes @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @missladym1981 @tammythr @swankyorange @jupiter-soups @dontknow446 @fluffygoffpanda @doblasftcisco @sunnysinbar @dinomecanico @eff4freddie @fancypants1215 @moel-jiller @picketniffler @khxna @spookyxsam @fancypants1215

@getitoutofmymindwrites @manuymesut @whirlwindrider29 @mostardentlypascal @lu62 @missladym1981 @heareball @sptbear @drewharrisonwriter @lizzie-cakes @daddy-dins-girl @moel-jiller @tammythr @guelyury @lilyevanstan1325 @lu62 @staywildflowahchild @whirlwindrider29 @pedropascalsbbg @cherrycosmos392

@titlee78 @spookyxsam @gwendibleywrites

#dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #dieter x reader #dieter bravo fanfic #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo x female reader #fanfic #smut #pedro pascal #Dieter smut #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo smut #a little sun

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guccifrog · 3 months

Text

WRONG NUMBER FINAL

matt sturniolo x f!reader

some of y'all bout to be real mad at me :3

y/n's pov

I let out a sigh, as my eyes scanned the ceiling, I felt like I was suffocating under the weight of misery. The cold bed sheets beneath me were like a prison, binding me to the spot, it was then that I realized I had been lying there for days.

The past few days had been like shit for me, that even the simple act of standing up seemed like a difficult task. I couldn't take Matt out of my head. That it was starting to hurt even worse now. I missed him, I missed us. I missed whatever we had going on, I missed his voice, I missed him holding me close to him. I missed everything about him. It was like a piece of my heart had been ripped out, leaving a gaping hole that nothing could ever fill.

God I hate it when I can't get him out of my head. It's like he's become some sort of drug I can't get enough of. every time I close my eyes, all I see is his face. It's been days since I last talked to him, but I just couldn't bring myself to answer his texts. I knew if I did, I'd just end up saying something that'll just regret later.

My head pounded in agony as I sat up, the room spinning wildly around me. I felt nauseous and weak like I could barely stand on my own two feet. I slowly crawled my way to the bathroom, every movement making me wince in pain.

Once I was in there, I stood in front of the mirror and stared at the poor reflection looking back at me. My eyes were dull and lifeless, my normally pale skin now a sickly shade of gray. My hair was a mess, tangled and greasy from not bothering to wash it for days. I looked like death warmed over. It didn't help that my reflection seemed to mock me. I didn't recognize the person looking back at me anymore. I felt like I was some sort of shadow of my former self,

I stared back at myself. It's not like I was some sort of prize or anything special. He'll get over it, eventually. But the words seemed hollow even to my own ears.

I ran my hands through my hair and took a deep breath trying to calm down, but it seemed to only make things worse.

I turned away from the mirror, unable to look at myself any longer, climbing back into bed, pulling the covers up over my head, and trying to shut out the world. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't escape the feeling that I was slowly drifting away from everything that had once been familiar and comforting.

It wasn't even that big of a deal, why was I feeling like this? I'll get over it soon, right? It wasn't like it was the end of the world or something. But still, the pain didn't seem to lessen, it felt like someone had carved out my heart and stomped all over it. the truth was, I was scared. Scared that this was how it was going to be from now on.

I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, willing myself to feel something else. But all I felt was this aching emptiness, that made me feel like I was floating in the void.

His face kept creeping into my thoughts, his voice echoing in my head. It was like I couldn't escape him, even when I was in the middle of enjoying something else.

My brain refused to process anything else. I couldn't focus on anything else. It was like my entire world had been reduced to just one person, and now that he was gone, there was nothing left. I felt so empty. Like a shell of the person I used to be.

I needed to get out of the house. I needed some fresh air, some time away from everything that reminded me of him. I got up, threw on some clothes, and grabbed my keys. I didn't even bother to brush my teeth or wash my face. I just didn't care anymore.

matt's pov

I sat on my bed, my head pounding because of how much I was overthinking. I shouldn't have rushed things. I knew it the moment I had kissed her. I had been so sure that she felt the same way I did, but I guess I was wrong. How could I have been so stupid? Why did I have to ruin everything by acting on my feelings?

I threw myself back on my bed, the pain in my chest growing more intense with each passing second. What was wrong with me? Why did I always have to screw things up? It wasn't just this, it was everything. I couldn't seem to get anything right. And now I'd probably lost the only person who really understood me. It was like a physical weight pressing down on my chest, making it impossible to breathe.

The hours dragged on as I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, replaying everything over and over again in my head. I needed to talk to her, or to hear her voice at least, and to somehow make things better. But how could I do that without making it worse? I didn't want to lose her, but I knew that I had to call her eventually.

With a heavy heart, I reached for my phone, staring at the screen for a moment before dialing her number. Again. And again. And again. But each time, the phone rang and rang without anyone picking up.

I was beginning to feel like a pathetic loser, calling her over and over when she clearly didn't want to talk to me. I should just accept that I had fucked things up and leave her alone. But I couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, if I called one more time...

My finger hovered above the green "call" button, hesitating for a moment before I finally pressed it, Maybe she'd pick up, and we could talk about what had happened. Maybe we could find a way to make things right again. Or maybe, she'd just hang up on me, and I'd be left here, feeling even more shitty than before.

"hey bitch, I'm probably sleeping or re-watching my little pony or maybe I just don't wanna answer you, just leave a voice message even though I'm not gonna listen to- beep"

Oh. Well, I guess I'd better leave it at that then. I hung up the phone, feeling more miserable than ever. I had hoped that maybe she'd want to talk to me, but I guess not. I sighed, rubbing my eyes tiredly. Maybe I was being too hard on myself. Maybe she just needed some time to process things.

But again, I needed to talk to her, I just couldn't help it. I was sure I'd go insane if I didn't, So, I did the only thing I could think of, I quickly got up, grabbed my jacket and keys, and headed out the door.

If I wasn't able to talk to her on the phone, then maybe I could just go see her in person. Maybe she'd be more willing to talk to me if I was standing right in front of her.

I drove to her house, my heart pounding in my chest as I passed through familiar streets and landmarks. I couldn't believe I was actually doing this. What if she doesn't want to talk? What if her parents answered the door? What if she didn't want to see me at all? The uncertainty was killing me. My brain was a mess, trying to think of every possible outcome, every possible scenario.

I decided to stop at a flower shop along the way and buy her a bouquet, just in case. I wanted to look like I was just bringing her flowers as a friend, not like I was some desperate ex-boyfriend. I didn't want to make things any more awkward than they already were.

As I pulled up to her house, my heart was racing, my palms sweaty. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, and then stepped out of the car, making my way up to the front door.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should just turn around and leave. But it was too late for second-guessing now. With a deep breath, I lifted my hand to knock on the door.

No answer. I knocked again, a little louder this time. Maybe she was in the backyard or something. Maybe she was just taking a moment to herself. I tried the door, but it was locked. I knocked again, this time a little more frantically.

Nothing. There was still no response. I knocked one more time, just to be sure, but the silence that followed only made my heart sink further. With a heavy sigh, I leaned against the door, feeling like an idiot for even coming here. What had I been thinking? That she'd just open the door and invite me in like everything was okay?

I looked down at the bouquet of pink tulips in my hand, feeling ridiculous for even bringing them. Maybe I should just leave them here on the porch and leave, but something held me back. I couldn't just walk away without at least trying to talk to her. With a deep breath, I took out my phone and dialed her number, hoping she would pick up this time. After what felt like an eternity, it rang...and rang...and rang. No answer.

"Excuse me ?"

I looked up from my phone, startled by the voice. Standing in the driveway was an old woman, probably in her late seventies or early eighties. She was wearing a floral housecoat and a pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

"Um, hi," I said, a little sheepishly. "I was looking for...um, is y/n here?"

The old woman looked at me with confusion, before widening her eyes in realization" You mean the young lady who lived here? Oh dear, she would usually greet me every day but I haven't seen or heard of her in days, I'm assuming she moved out"

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. No, that couldn't be it.

"You must be her...friend?" Her voice trailed off, her expression gentle and sympathetic.

"Um, yeah," I replied, my throat feeling tight. "I mean, I was"

The old woman must have sensed my discomfort because she put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Don't you worry, dear. Sometimes people need time to themselves, and they find it in the most unexpected places. You never know, she might just be around the corner, waiting for you to find her."

Her words were meant to comfort me, but they only seemed to make things worse. I wanted to believe her, I really did. But the feeling in my gut told me something different. It told me that I might have lost her, and that this time, it might be for good.

With a heavy sigh, I thanked the old woman and made my way back to my car. As I drove away, my eyes stung with tears.

I tried to distract myself with music, and the scenery around me, but it was no use. The image of her face, the way she looked at me when we were together, it was burned into my memory.

Maybe this is a sign, that I need to move on. To accept that whatever we had going on was over and focus on my own life. But how could I possibly do that when all I could think about is the way she used to laugh at my jokes, the way she would pout and frown her eyebrows playfully every time I teased her. Those memories are engraved into my brain, and I don't think they'll ever fade.

I didn't want to let go. I didn't want to forget about her. But what choice did I have? Could I keep living this way, constantly thinking about what could have been, and what might never be again? I couldn't. I had to find a way to move on.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts, debating whether to delete her name or keep her in my life like a constant reminder of what I'd lost. In the end, I decided that if I wanted to truly move on, I needed to let her go. So I deleted her number, her email address, and even blocked her social media accounts.

I had to accept the fact that it was over and move on. It was the only way I could possibly heal. Even If I cared- no, loved her with all my heart, there was no point in holding on to something that wasn't there anymore. I needed to let go and find peace.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but it was one I knew I had to choke down.

the end

jkjk 😆

2 years later

y/n's pov

"Hey! Stop" I yelled as I watched my dog, pepper, run with my phone between her teeth. She darted around a corner, out of my sight. I sighed, running after her, just as she disappeared around another corner.

"Pepper, come back!" I called, beginning to lose patience. I turned the corner and saw her sitting in front of our front door, her tail wagging excitedly, I breathed a sigh of relief and walked over to her, bending down to pick her up. "That's a good girl," I cooed, kissing her head. As I stood back up, I glanced down just to find my phone shattered into a million pieces on the ground.

"Oh no," I muttered, "I guess that's the end of that." I sighed, knowing I'd have to save up for a new phone now. I picked up the pieces of my phone and stuffed them in my pocket, then reached for the doorknob, and entered my house.

I needed to tell my mom, or else she'd get worried. I knew she had an old phone lying around somewhere. I went to her room and started searching through her drawers, looking for the phone.

After a few minutes of digging, I finally found it, buried under a pile of old magazines and makeup. I smiled to myself, feeling relieved that I had found it. I quickly grabbed the phone and went back to my room, shutting the door behind me.

As I sat down on my bed, I inspected the phone more closely and realized that It was my old phone, the one I had before I got my current one. I powered it on, relieved to see that it was still working.

Luckily I didn't have a password set up on my old phone, so I was able to use it right away. I immediately went to check my contacts only to find that all contacts I had were just numbers now.

I didn't recognize any of them. "How did this happen?" I wondered out loud, as I dug through the rest of the phone, looking for any clue as to who these people were or how I had gotten their numbers. After a while, I came across a number that looked exactly like my mom's. "That must be it," I thought to myself, before clicking the message icon and started typing.

THE END ☆

HEY OML U MADE IT TO THE END OF YHE STORY 🤩🤩🤩🤩💯💯💯 but anyways I just wanna thank u all for sticking around (corny ass zay) I'm so so So so grateful for all of the support y'all gave me to continue this shitty ahh series it really makes my day everytime I read u guys's comments I love u all fr muaaah 💕

taglist ☆

@mattestrella @chrisfavoritepepsi @sunsetsturniolos @littlebookworm803 @sturniozo @sturniolooooo @athaliahxoxo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ev3rgreenxtrees @nonamegirlxsturniolo @crybabycat1 @mooniethesimp31 @ducksturniolo @ifilwtmfc @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @lustfulslxt @ilovemattsworld @hrt-attack @flowerxbunnie

@secret-sturniolo @iluvmeeen @that-general-simp @swangelss @familynotfandom @fuckshitslover @styles-sturniolo @lvr-111 @opheliaofficial07 @kiarastromboli @hearts4chriss @braindead4l @sturniolosreads @mattsturnzzz09 @itssophiasstuff @mayhem-72 @b2cute @buckys-celestes @4iriss @bitterspoons

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megistusdiary · 1 month

Text

can i interest you all in figure-skating coach!arlecchino?

(longer post utc. no smut, just fluff? - tw slight age gap and also idk specifics on figure skating, i just like the idea 😚)

she's a well-known figure-skater, having gone to the olympics for snezhnaya for several years, each time bringing home the gold for her nation.

she's elegant in her movements yet calculated down to each singular motion to pull it all together in beautiful displays on ice. her outfits are always perfect down to the very threads sewn together.

the way she carries herself at conferences, on camera she's stoic but professional, and pretty enough to have both men and women at her feet when she performs.

that is until the incident.

a chronic back injury she's sustained from pushing her body too far. her coach was always relentless. even when she was miles ahead of her fellow competitors, her coach wanted more.

her coach demanded perfection from all her trainees, yet arlecchino was different. held on a pedestal for all to see.

but don't get it twisted. arlecchino herself would often be found practicing these challenging routines all alone at 3 in the morning. she would be exhausted, limbs aching, and relentless to achieve the cleanest routine.

that back injury changed her life. she disappeared for a few years from the skating world, leaving many of her fans in shock and fear.

luckily, for them, she returned soon after with an apprentice of her own. a younger man by the name of tartaglia with a rather charming theme to all his performances.

unlike arlecchino, he was bolder in his performances. a little sloppy, by her standards, but he made up for it in his flair. she could see even the judges swooning over him, the fans' attention now on him rather than her.

or so she had assumed.

she meets you when her old coach introduces the two of you. she's a good several years older than you, and you still carry that sweet, fresh-faced, joyful look on your face.

as you practice your routine for the both of them, her old coach leans over, suggesting arlecchino take you instead.

she snorts uncharacteristically at the suggestion, watching how your spins are slightly wobbly, the way you look just a tad too small on the ice. she wonders how in the world she could make you a star.

it isn't until she sees you perform with your music, with your passion, that she decides to train you.

she grows annoyed by how starkly different her old coach's methods have become. unlike when arlecchino trained, you clearly haven't been sculpted to perfection. she wonders how, at this point in your career, you wouldn't be there. though, she supposes your smile and demeanor make-up for some of your faults.

she trains you harder, scheduling extra lessons for you outside of your normal hours, watching you yawn and rub your eyes when she calls you in at midnight.

many of her students often leave, saying the pressure was too great. how she was too demanding. she never offered extra lessons, expecting people to bring her talent to work with in the first place.

so why did she give you extra attention?

why wouldn't she just let you leave?

no. she didn't want that... she wouldn't let that happen. she'd rather take extra time to not only make you competent, but a fierce competitor.s

she's even put you in ballet classes. even more remarkable is her own talent in ballet, which you can't help but admire.

the first time she ever finds herself looking at you closer than she imagined. she stands next to you, demonstrating stretches, her hand running up your spine to adjust your posture.

you exhale so softly, almost imperceptibly, but it makes her touch falter, landing just a little too tenderly at the base of your spine before she pulls away. she watches you the rest of the lesson, adjusting your legs and arms to the proper position, her hand trailing up to graze over your jaw.

she tilts your head upwards. "stop looking down." she comments, low and sultry, seeing you swallow thickly. "you're being trained by one of snezhnaya's most renowned figure skaters. act like it."

she gently squeezes your jaw before releasing you. "we're finished for the day." she leaves you panting, entirely embarrassed and internally screaming out.

unbeknownst to you, she sits in the car, staring at the hand she used to touch your jaw, a hardened look on her face. she clenches her hand, a soft blush appearing on her normally dull cheeks as she waits for you so you may both leave the ballet studio.

when you finally do perform at competitions, she finds herself growing much more vocal. oftentimes, she remains quiet, only cringing at her other students' stumbles and deductions.

but not with you.

your moves have become much more elegant, and everyone can see. the commentary surrounds how you seem to emulate the epitome of what your coach stood for herself, but in a much softer tone.

your performance leaves her enraptured, your routine completely clean, garnering you praise and showers of applause.

yet you leave the ice with only one person in mind, your hand brushing over hers when you walk past her to find your water bottle.

and, for the first time, she finds herself wanting more. even when you're sweaty under your glittering dress, hair a mess, makeup starting to smudge. she wants you. her perfect apprentice.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin wlw #fem reader #💐─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 #🪷─𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴 `♡´#arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino genshin #arlecchino x you #arlecchino x y/n #arlecchino

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janasrdhr · 2 months

Text

Stay - Simon “Ghost” Riley

──────────────────────

Warning(s): Major Character Death, Explicit Language, Angst

──────────────────────

Ghost signals to proceed towards the fourth floor of the building, indicating it as the final hurdle to overcome.

An eerie silence envelops the surroundings.

Suddenly, Ghost forcefully pulls you downward with a shout, sending waves of pain coursing through your body.

In the midst of chaos, an explosion shatters the floor beneath you.

You find yourself wounded, partially trapped under concrete, as Ghost's voice reaches you amidst the wreckage.

“You stay with me. Don’t you die on me. That’s an order.”

You whimper, your body wracked with excruciating pain, swallowing hard as your eyes glaze over.

Ghost's arms wrap around your body tightly. His touch firm, reassuring. His eyes are locked into yours. He needs to see you holding onto him. To see your eyes and make sure that you're still there. That you're not gone.

He looks at your chest. His hand presses up against it. He needs to see your chest rise and fall beneath the rubble.

“Stay with me. Stay. Please.”

Your hand darts up, seizing his own in a desperate grasp, fingers trembling to match the tremors of his own chest. “I-it hurts,” you stammer, the pain coursing through you like molten lava, threatening to consume you whole.

You're losing strength. He can see your free hand struggling to grip his hand as tightly as it was.

He's silent for a moment, then a short, quick command to no one in particular.

“I need morphine now.”

The rubble starts moving slightly, and you know that Ghost can't move you just yet.

But he's not leaving your side.

“You stay with me dove, yeah?”

“It hurts so much. F-fuck...I can't-” you heave, drawing in air as though each labored breath were a lifeline.

“I need you to do somethin' for me, dove.”

Ghost's voice is firm. Almost an order. But his grip on you is gentle, as if he doesn't want to hurt you more than you are already hurting.

“You're goin' to take slow, deep breaths. And you're goin' to keep lookin' at me. Only me.”

You nod pitifully, your concussed head barely able to comply, your consciousness teetering on the brink.

“Good girl.”

The rubble continues to shift. As the debris slowly gets removed from your body. The morphine slowly enters your system. Pain alleviating, as the world starts to spin.

“I need you to stay awake for me, love?”

Ghost's voice is reassuring, comforting, warm. Even with the mask covering his mouth, his eyes are intent - waiting. Waiting to see if you're still there.

“Stay with me.”

Your eyes begin to roll back, struggling as if trying to stitch themselves shut.

“Dove.”

Ghost's tone is urgent now. As if he's going to shake you into staying awake. Into living.

“I need you to look at me. Look at me.”

His grip presses into your hand. Trying to find some semblance of life in you. It must kill him to see you like this. See you suffer.

“Look at me, pretty.”

Your eyes snap open, fueled by the dwindling remnants of your energy, slowly succumbing to the pull of slumber; despite the plea in his usual taut voice.

“That's it,” Ghost whispers, his voice filled with relief.

“Don't you dare close your eyes. Keep lookin' at me. Keep lookin'.”

There's still rubble pinning you to the ground. The EVAC team trying their hardest to free you - and keep you alive.

“Don't you close your eyes again. Ya hear me?”

“...s-so tired...” You stutter, your voice faltering, as weariness grips you like a heavy cloak.

His voice, normally resonant and commanding, now carries a plea, a desolate edge honed by urgency. Each word is measured, and delivered with a staggering resolve. A raw vulnerability that struggles to break free from its jagged, rusty confines, something only you seem to have the key to. It echoes the weight of unspoken fears and the fervent hope of finding salvation amid turmoil.

God, does he push on. For you.

Anything for you.

“Keep lookin'.”

You're slipping away. His grip on you grows tighter as he pleads.

“Don't you go on me. Ya hear that? Don't you go on me.”

It would tear his heart out to lose you. He knows that. He knows just as well as you do.

But you have to stay. You have to stay.

“Ghost,” you stammer, your words catching in your throat like a fish struggling against a hook, “I d-don't think I can...”

“You have to. You get me?”

He's so desperate. So desperate. He can't lose you. Not here. Not now where you lie in a pile of rubble. Where everything is chaos.

There's noise around you, the rubble being lifted, the sound of feet and voices.

Your hand, barely clinging to him, tightens ever so slightly, a silent plea for reassurance.

“I-If I don't make it...you'll miss me, r-right?”

“Don't you dare talk like that, dove.”

Ghost's voice cracks. His grip has tightened to the point that it's painful.

“You're makin' it out of here, and I'm not leavin' until you do.”

His eyes narrow.

“You're not goin' anywhere.”

A solitary tear escapes, tracing a silent path down the contours of your weary face. “I...I'll miss you,” you confess, your voice trembling with emotion, each word a delicate thread in the tapestry of your heartache. “So much...”

“You're not dyin', damn it.”

Ghost hisses the words. The frustration is evident in his voice. The fear and dread, the knowledge of just how close you're to the end of the line.

Ghost can't even begin to describe the emotions he's feeling. The guilt over bringing you to this. The anger over someone else doing this to you.

A strained whimper manages to escape your parched throat. “I-...I had everything planned, y-y'know?” you confess, your voice strained, carrying the weight of stolen expectations. “E-Everything.”

“Shut it.”

It's quiet this time. As if Ghost is trying to deny the truth in those words. As if he can push it back and make it not real.

“Shut up... you're not thinkin' like that. Don't you dare.”

A pause as a tear falls from his eye. A low, grunted curse as his lips tighten under the balaclava.

Your words emerge in fragments, like fragile petals torn from a wilting flower, each syllable a struggle against unspoken desires.

“I...I wanted,” you begin, your breaths strained as if wrestling with unseen burdens. “I wanted to marry you.” you manage to confess amidst the tumult of your emotions, the words hanging in the air like delicate threads on the verge of snapping.

“And...and children...” you choke back tears, the image of a future slipping through your trembling grasp. “I imagined...a home,” you continue, your voice a whispered plea, “filled with love.” But even as you struggle to speak, the words falter, slipping away like sand through your fingers.

“I...I can't hold on,” you admit, weak gasps punctuating the realization of time slipping inexorably away. Tears stream down your cheeks, each drop a testament to the depth of your longing.

“I wanted...so much.” your voice trails off, fading into the silence battered breaths.

“Stop.”

Ghost tries. He tries to block it. The truth. The reality.

You're lying here, barely hanging on. The life within your body slipping away.

“Don't say that. It's...”

There's a pause as he swallows hard.

“It's not slippin' away.”

Another beat as his grasp on you loosens slightly. The fear, the anger, the panic, the pain, the guilt. It's all in his voice. His voice cracking. Breaking.

“A d-destination wedding,” you manage, a dry chuckle escaping your lips, as if dust had settled upon your laughter.

“Italy....Tuscany.” Your voice wavers, painting a picture of distant shores and moonlit sands. “On the beach, m-maybe? Barefoot, under the nighttime sky. Just us and the stars,” Your thoughts drift away by the current of your yearning.

“White roses...everywhere,” you continue, the image forming in your mind's eye like a fragile constellation.

“I love white roses...” you trail off, lost in the reverie of what could have been.

Ghost listens to your dreams. Your thoughts of a future together. A life together.

A faint smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. His eyes narrow more as it's barely noticeable, only if you really look at his face.

“Italy.” Ghost repeats, his voice stronger now. “White roses.”

A pause as he swallows hard. A deep sigh to collect himself.

“What else?”

“It s-should be intimate,” you falter, your voice wavering with sincerity, "just family and friends with us.” You pause, gathering your thoughts before continuing with a soft giggle, “I've always imagined Captain Price officiating, maybe even walking me down the aisle too...”

“Price?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. The faintest of smirks pull at the corner of his mouth for a moment.

“No chance in hell is Price going to be our priest.”

It doesn't last long. That faint flicker of joy. Because it's drowned out by everything else.

“Why not?” you pout, suppressing the pain coursing through you as you raise your gaze to meet his.

“Because, believe it or not, Price still has a level of professionalism to him. He's not going to be marrying off some of his best soldiers in the middle of a war.”

Ghost tries to smile. Tries to find some humor in this situation.

“Besides, he wouldn't know how to officiate a proper wedding ceremony. He'd just ramble on about how the relationship is a battle.”

You laugh softly, a melody to him. “I also w-wanted to retire from the military,” you confess, your words weaving a tapestry of aspirations. “Opening a bakery or a floral shop... or maybe both,” you muse, letting the possibilities dance.

“A bakery... a floral shop.”

Ghost's voice is soft, almost a whisper as he speaks.

“I'd buy an entire bakery from you just to try some of whatever you'd make.” he chuckles lightly. A breath as he swallows hard.

“And a floral shop,” His grip tightens ever so slightly on your hand.

“I'd buy that, too. I'd bring you flowers every day. All sorts. Roses. Sunflowers. Lilies. Hydrangeas...”

You shake your head, a wince flickering across your features like a shadow passing over the sun. Almost instantly, you feel the sting of ripped arteries creeping in. “Just white roses,” you murmur.

“...white roses,” Ghost repeats quietly, his grip on you softening.

“I'd bring you white roses, dove.”

Another pause. The silence is deafening.

“White roses. The brightest, most beautiful ones out there.”

Just for you.

You gaze upwards, absorbing the expanse of the skies above, as if embracing the vastness of the unknown that lies ahead. “I'll have to get used to this,” you whisper, the realization settling in like a gentle breeze on a summer day.

“Two kids,” you continue, your voice progressively dimming, “a boy and a girl. Spend everyday t-taking care of 'em, watching 'em grow” With a tremble in your voice, you add, “I'll send you off to work each day, stealing a kiss from you b-before you go.”

“Two kids, I can agree to that. A boy and a girl, definitely. You'll spoil them horribly though.” he teases gently, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

A long pause. The sounds of the world around them finally register. The sounds of the medics working to free you.

“W-wouldn't,” you muse, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “our daughter become a daddy's girl?”

“Our daughter...she'll definitely be a daddy's girl. But our son...” Ghost's voice softens. “...our son would be a mommy's boy. For sure.”

He'd be just as protective of his mother as she is of him."

“What would you name her?” you inquire.

Ghost hesitates for a moment. As if he's trying to pick the perfect name.

“Beth.”

He pauses again.

“She'd be a lovely little girl. She'll have her mother's smile. Her mother's laugh. Her mother's heart.”

“And what name would you give our son, my love?” Simon asked.

You ponder, feeble eyes fluttering.

“Tommy.”

“Tommy,” Ghost repeats. The ghost of a smile is just barely visible under the mask.

Another beat as he holds you tightly. As if by holding you, he can make things right again.

“...yeah. Tommy's a good name.”

You find yourself whimpering more frequently now, each sound a plaintive note in the symphony of your agony as the pain sets in again. “I...I don't wanna die,” you murmur, your words a fragile plea.

“You're not going to die. You're not going to die”

But Ghost doesn't seem entirely convinced with his own words.

The medics are still working furiously to free you.

But the fear and anxiety inside of him is clear. He's afraid that he's losing you. That the wounds you've suffered are irreversible.

He tries to block it. To be strong for you. But he can't deny that feeling inside of him. The dread.

“I don't wanna leave, Ghost,” you sob, the words choked with emotion, longing to remain by his side.

“I know...I know.” He whispers, his words soft.

“I don't want you to go, either.”

Oh, how he didn't.

The medic finally manages to remove a large piece of rubble that was weighing you down.

“Stay with me. Focus on me,” he tells you softly, gently squeezing your hands.

“Look into my eyes.”

You let out a piercing scream as the oppressive weight is finally lifted from you.

Ghost's grasp on you tightens. He holds you tighter, squeezing your hands even harder as if somehow, he can spare your pain.

“Keep lookin' at me, dove,” he whispers.

“Le' me see those pretty eyes.”

You sob uncontrollably, each breath a struggle as if your lungs were drowning in white-hot pain. “Don't leave me,” you plead, your voice a trembling whisper. “s-so scared..."

“I'm not leavin' you.”

His voice cracks. His grip tightens even further so as to try and relieve your own pain.

“I am not leavin' you.”

Another beat as Ghost forces himself to continue. To look at you. To stare into your eyes as if he could somehow spare you from this.

“Just keep holdin' me and everythin' will be okay.”

He tries to soothe your pain, rubbing your shoulders with one hand and squeezing you tightly with the other.

“Yeah? Everythin' will be okay.”

You nod, your grasp on him tightening every so often.

“He should have your eyes,” you murmur, a sentiment blooming between you once more.

“He'd be as strong as you, as brave as you, as protective as you...as s-safe as you are.”

“He would.”

Ghost tries to smile. To imagine the son that he'd have.

“He'd be as stubborn as me, too.”

You break into a soft smile, “You'd be a g-good father, Simon,” you murmur, your words carrying certainty.

The smile falters. The realization hitting him again.

Ghost's grip on you tightens further. This is the only thing he can do to prevent himself from breaking down.

“Yeah," he murmurs. “I-...I'd be a good father. Yeah.”

Two heartbeats.

One irregular, the other irregular too.

“....A-And our daughter?”

“Our daughter.”

Ghost's voice cracks.

“She'd be so beautiful. The light of my life.”

Another heartbeat as a tear rolls down his cheeks.

“Like her mother.”

Your hold on him slackens, as your exhausted eyelids surrender to an eternal slumber. Yet, even in your final moments, a serene smile graces your lips, an enduring emblem of peace. As you draw your last breath, you depart adorned with that same tranquil expression, leaving behind a poignant echo of your essence.

“Like you.”

A pained whimper escapes Ghost. Soon, a sob.

“She'll definitely be like you.”

Another beat before he whispers again.

“But you should live to see her. You should live to see our son...”

Your vision blurs, colours fading into shades of grey as the world around you dims. Sounds muffle and distance themselves, like echoes fading into the night. Surrendering to the engulfing pain, you muster the last of your strength to whisper a fragile declaration: “I love you.”

Another beat before a soft cry hitches in his throat.

Another whisper.

“Don't leave...”

Ghost's grip on you tightens. He whispers one more time.

“Stay...”

Your chest stagnates, trapped in a moment of suspended animation, as if time has folded in on itself. The vibrant hues drain from your once radiant skin, leaving it as pale and lifeless as cold wax. Your body begins to chill, a stark reminder of the journey ahead. Muscles slacken, limbs surrendering to a weighty lethargy. The rhythmic ebb and flow of your chest's rise and fall fades into a profound silence. Consciousness slips away like a whisper on the wind, leaving behind naught but a hollow, silent void.

Ghost squeezes you tighter. Trying to fight the inevitable.

But he can feel it.

He's losing you.

Slowly, your grip goes slack. The rise and fall of your chest stops. Your once warm body growing cold.

The medics are still working, trying to remove the rubble that remains.

All Ghost can do is hold you. Hold you in his arms.

All he can hear is the silence. The void.

“Stay...”

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masterlist - cod masterlist

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