#almost dine with this season!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fairy-angel222 · 3 months

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𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—gojo’s single and geto’s a good friend. good friends share everything.. including girlfriends

pairing: gojo x fem! reader x geto

content: crack, smut, threesome, praise, cum eating (gojo), pussy eating, blowjobs, cream pie, throat bulge, throat fucking, tag team, playful banter, squirting

Geto thinks he’s a great friend. Being willing to share his precious girlfriend with his best friend. He’s seen the way Gojo looks at you. And he’s not mad, no, he’s quite happy. It makes using you as a gift so much easier— especially when he knows you get wet at just the thought of a threesome with the white haired man.

“I am not lonely. I could go get a quick fuck right now if i wanted too.” Gojo defended, taking another gulp of the beer in his hand as he leaned back into the couch.

“Hmm, i smell lies, you’re very lonely this season.” you teased, giggling softly when Gojo glared at you with the flip of his middle finger. You gasped dramatically, turning to Geto with a pout, “Baby your friend just flipped me off.”

Geto simply smiled at you with the shake of his head, taking a quick swig of his drink before he was wrapping his arm around your shoulders. Pulling you into him and placing an especially wet kiss onto your head. “Don’t disrespect my girl bro.” He joked along, Gojo only scoffing before flipping him off too. “I’m being targeted by weirdos. Great.”

“Weirdos who aren’t single. Can’t relate now can you?” you retorted with a grin. Gojo finally letting out a chuckle, “Ya got me there.” downing the remaining contents of the bottle. “I’m gonna get another one, you guys want any?” he questioned, standing up to head to the kitchen.

“Oo, yes please.” you piped in cheerily, Geto’s head snapping towards you with an eyebrow raised. “Uh, no. She’ll just have a coke or something. But i’ll take one.” Geto corrected.

Gojo nodded, making his way past the dining area and into the kitchen to open the fridge.

Geto winced lightly when you pinched his side. “Why can’t i have one?” you whined. Geto pinching your cheeks with a faux frown, “because your alcohol tolerance is too damn low.” You simply huffed, fiddling absentmindedly with the hem of your boyfriend’s sweater.

“So, is it still happening?” you questioned in a whisper, a smirk forming on your boyfriend’s face as he brought the bottle to his lips to empty it out. “Mhm.”

Gojo came strolling back into the room with two opened drinks and a cherry flavored soft drink. And you fought the urge to roll your eyes when he handed one bottle to Geto and the red colored drink to you. A smile on his face as he bit back his teasing words about Geto not letting you drink alcohol.

Geto cleared his throat, setting down the drink and placing his hand on your thigh. Squeezing as he travelled it higher and higher, his breath hot on your ear when he leaned in. “That’s your queue baby.”

Your face heated up, watching as Gojo raised an eyebrow across from you, taking a swig at his drink after mumbling “fucking weirdos i swear.”

Getting off your seat, you bit at your lip as you looked back at Geto. Your boyfriend only giving you a reassuring nod before his drink was at his lips, watching as you almost shyly walked up to Gojo.

Sitting yourself on his lap with practically no warning making the man’s eyes widen. “What are you-” being cut off by your lips on his, your ass lightly grinding on his cock as you gripped his shirt. Gojo’s eyes met Geto’s in panic, the latter simply tilting his head, “Better enjoy it while you can.”

Gojo groaned, your hands slipping under his shirt to run your nails over his hard abs. Slowly bringing them down until you stopped at the bulge in his sweats, groping it through the fabric before smiling as you pulled away. “You’re already hard?” you giggled.

“Shut up.” His face flushing red as you got off of his lap, situating yourself on your knees between his legs. Your hands working to pull his pants down mid thigh, your head in his crotch as you licked a strike along his cock through his underwear. Looking up at him through your lashes before freeing him from the thin black fabric

Gojo nearly choked on his spit, watching as you ran your thumb over his tip. Collecting glistening precum before using it to stroke him, circling your wrist while you moved it up and down. “S-shit.”

Your eyes met his cock with a hard swallow at the length. Taking in a breath before sucking him into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around his leaking tip then taking him in deeper. Bobbing your head up and down as your drool coated his veiny skin.

You could hear Geto standing up behind you, reaching your kneeling frame in two large steps before his hand was stroking your hair. “She’s good ain’t she?”

Gojo only letting out a cracked moan as he nodded. Geto’s hand suddenly grabbing hold of your hair to quicken the pace of your mouth. “But trust me, she can be better.” Roughly pushing you to take Gojo down your throat before pulling you back up again. Repeating the process as you slobbered onto the man’s dick with muffled moans.

Your eyes pooled with water each time your boyfriend forced you to take his best friend all the way. Gojo’s cock bulging in your throat as your nose pressed at his base. “See that?” Geto hummed.

Gojo’s mouth hung open in breathy grunts as he began thrusting his hips upwards. Head falling back onto the back of the couch with his breathing speeding up. Basking in the way his best friend used your warm mouth to fuck his twitching cock. “F-fucking hell— ahh.”

“Good girl” Geto dragged out. “gonna make him cum already.” he praised, “Wonder how long it has been since he’s felt a pretty girl’s lips on his cock.”

Gojo grunted, “f-fuck o-off, shit—” a loud groan sounding in his throat when he began to spill into your mouth. His body shuddering when you continued to suck on his tip while maintaining eye contact. His cock throbbing as the last bits of cum spurted onto your tongue.

“Now what do you do?” Geto asked with a smirk, watching you swallow the thick substance before glancing between the both of them with a smile. “That’s my girl.”

Gojo panted with heavy breaths, receiving a pat on his shoulder from the black haired man. “That’s not even the half of it.”

It wasn’t long until you found yourself on your hands and knees. Geto’s cock down your throat as Gojo fucked into you from behind. “Is this what you like baby?” your boyfriend groaned, Gojo’s rough thrusts effectively rocking your mouth on and off of Geto’s cock. “Showing this lone fucker how good your pussy feels?” Gojo being too lost in how deep you were sucking him in to even respond.

You mewled, clenching down on Gojo’s cock as he hammered into your g spot. His thick length easily sliding in and out your tightness.

Gojo’s hand groped at the flesh of your ass, the sound of his hips slamming onto your flesh only getting louder when he sped up his pace. Allowing his tip to graze your gummy walls with force. “Haah- think this might just be the best pussy i’ve ever had.”

“Hear that baby? He loves that perfect pussy of yours.” Geto breathed, his eyes closing as he used his hand to guide your head faster. “Shit. Swear that mouth of yours is made of gold.”

You let out a muffled cry when you felt a coil build in your stomach. Your body still being jerked between the two men as you drooled onto your boyfriend’s cock. Your back arching when Gojo leaned onto you, his chest against your back as he brought his hand down to rub your clit. Your loud mewl sending vibrations through Geto’s dick.

Gojo groaned into your ear. “You feel so good pretty girl. Wish i could fuck into this pussy forever.” His thrusts getting sloppy as he moaned noisily into your neck, his eyes fixed on the way your swollen lips had stretched to fit his best friend’s girth. “O-oh shit— clenching down on me so tight.” he rasped into your skin, voice cracking into a higher pitch at the feeling of your warmth ready to milk him dry.

Geto pulled you off his cock with a grin, watching as you whimpered before taking in a well needed breath, your chest rising and falling as your eyes lost their focus. “Nnhg— Suguru, ah- Satoru, ‘m close,” you cried out, feeling yourself getting closer as Gojo continued to rub small circles on your sensitive bud, his cock hitting deep inside you with each movement

“Yeah baby? Gonna show him just how good he made you feel?” Geto husked, pulling your head back onto him before you could even nod in response, using your mouth as a wet flesh light to get him off the edge.

Gojo groaned loudly, his thrusts hard and mean as they lost their speed. Rolling his hips desperately into yours to chase his release. “Shit, can i cum in ya, pretty?”

You were only able to let out an incoherent babble, feeling the coil in your stomach painfully close to snapping.

“Don’t push it.” Geto warned, your chin getting messy as he lazily fucked your face, his head falling back with a string of deep curses.

“Selfish prick.”

“You’re fucking her aren’t you?”

Your body shook as you came, whimpering with a broken cry around Geto’s cock as your pussy spasmed. Eyes rolling back and your head fuzzy as you gushed messily. The force of your orgasm threatening to make Gojo’s cock slip out.

“There you go baby.” Geto started, Gojo finishing his words as he slowed his movements on your clit, “That’s it.”

Both men breathed heavily as their movements came to a halt. Geto holding your face down on his cock to spurt ropes of his cum down your throat.

“Suguru- fuck, please let me cum in her. Tight pussy doesn’t want to let me go.” Gojo moaned out, pleading blue eyes looking up to your boyfriend.

“You do that and you’re gonna lick it all out.” Geto growled out, tapping his cock onto your tongue a few times before he was pulling out. Watching as you moaned softly when his cum slid down your throat.

Gojo’s lips parted as his cock ached for a release. Deciding to take his chance at burying himself inside you, his twitching cock pumping thick ropes of cum into you. Looking up to meet your boyfriend’s fake grin.

“Baby, lay down, and you, better get every fucking drop outta her.”

Gojo pervertedly smiling as he willingly crawled in between your legs. Lapping at your sopping folds and swirling his tongue around your clit as you moaned and mewled into the air.

Your fingers tangling in white strands as his tongue dipped into your hole, sucking a mixture of your juices and his cum into his mouth with a groan.

Geto let out a short laugh in amusement, “So this is what a lack of pussy does to a guy.” Watching as Gojo licked you clean, bringing you to another squirting orgasm in the process.

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pucksandpower · 28 days

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Young Love and Old Money

Max Verstappen x Stroll!Reader

Summary: Max quickly learns that life with the paddock’s favorite nepo baby as his girlfriend is never boring

You take a deep breath as the town car pulls up to the grand arched doorway of your family’s Montreal estate. Beside you, Max squeezes your hand gently.

“Don’t worry, schatje,” he says, “Your father will love me.”

You smile nervously. “I hope so. But you know how protective he can be.”

Max grins. “I can handle it.”

The driver opens the door and you step out into the crisp night air, your heels clicking on the cobblestone. Max follows, straightening his suit jacket.

Inside, the foyer glitters with crystal chandeliers. A maid hurries to take your coats. As she leads you to the formal dining room, your heart pounds.

This dinner needs to go perfectly.

Your father and Lance are already seated at the long mahogany table, chatting. They look up as you enter and break into smiles.

“Y/N!” Your father exclaims warmly, standing to embrace you. “So wonderful to see you, mon minou.”

You hug him tightly back. “You too, Papa.”

Lance grins as he hugs you next. “Hey sis. Long time no see.”

You playfully mess up his hair. “Too long, little bro.”

Finally, you turn to Max, who is waiting patiently. “Papa, Lance, you already know my boyfriend, Max.”

Max steps forward confidently and shakes their hands. “Mr. Stroll, Lance, it’s an honor to finally meet you both properly.”

Your father looks Max up and down appraisingly. “The honor is mine, Max. Please, call me Lawrence.”

You let out a small sigh of relief as you all take your seats. So far, so good.

The first course is brought out — a decadent lobster bisque. You all sip appreciatively.

“Delicious,” Max compliments.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” your father says graciously. “Now, tell me Max, how is your season going so far?”

You tense slightly. Here it comes, the interrogation.

But Max just smiles. “It’s been excellent. A few tough races, but I’m leading the championship at the moment. The car has great pace and I think we have a shot at the title again this year.”

Lance jumps in enthusiastically. “I saw your battle with Charles last race when I was rewatching the tape. Epic stuff, man!”

“Thanks, mate,” Max chuckles. “It was a fun one for sure.”

You exhale in relief. Max is charming them perfectly.

The conversation flows easily through the next few courses. You can’t help but gaze admiringly at Max as he seamlessly meshes with your family. He has a natural confidence and charisma that puts everyone at ease.

Over dessert, your father says warmly, “Max, I can see why my Y/N cares for you. You’re clearly an exceptional young man, both on and off the track.”

Max smiles, touched. “Thank you, sir. Y/N is very special to me.” He squeezes your hand.

You beam, your heart swelling. This is going even better than you hoped.

You finish up the chocolate mousse and set down your spoon contentedly. “That was delicious. This dinner has been wonderful, thank you Papa.”

“Of course,” your father says fondly. “I’m so glad you both could make it out here from Monaco.”

“Thank you for having me,” Max adds.

“Anytime,” Lawrence smiles.

You glance around the table happily. Your boyfriend fits right in with your family. Everything feels so natural and perfect.

“Daddy, could you please pass the sugar?” You ask amiably.

Immediately, both Max and your father’s hands reach for the small pot of sugar in the center of the table. They both freeze awkwardly for a second, before Lawrence pulls his hand back slowly.

You feel your stomach drop as you see the dawning realization cross your father’s face.

Oh no.

This is bad.

Lawrence’s smile becomes forced. “So tell me Max, what exactly does my daughter call you?”

Max’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. “Um, just Max usually.”

You sink down in your chair, wincing.

Your father lets out a hollow laugh. “Is that so? Because it didn’t sound like that to me.”

A leaden silence descends on the table. Lance glances between you all, smothering a smirk.

Max clears his throat awkwardly. “Well, uh, that’s just a casual nickname really ...”

Lawrence raises an eyebrow. “A casual nickname you say? For my daughter to call her boyfriend in front of her family?”

You close your eyes, willing yourself to vanish. This is excruciatingly embarrassing.

“Dad, come on,” Lance snickers, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “They’re young, it’s whatever.”

“No Lance, it’s not whatever,” your father snaps, an edge in his voice now. “I would like Max to explain himself here.”

Max holds up his hands placatingly. “Sir, I apologize if we’ve made you uncomfortable. But I assure you our relationship is completely respectful.”

You nod quickly. “Papa, he’s right. Can we please just move on?”

But Lawrence is unyielding. “I will not have anyone take liberties with my daughter, do you understand me, young man?”

Max looks properly chastened. “Yes sir, of course. I meant no offense.”

Your father bristles as he glares between you. The awkward tension hovers for several painful moments.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. “Papa, stop!” You blurt out. “I’m an adult now. You can’t control what I choose to do with my boyfriend.”

Lawrence looks stunned, then hurt. “Y/N, I’m just looking out for you ...”

“I know, but I don’t need protecting from Max. He’s wonderful and he makes me so happy. Can’t you let me make my own choices?”

Your father’s expression softens. He sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just … so hard for me to think of you growing up.”

You reach over and squeeze his hand. “I know. But I’ll always be your little girl.”

Lawrence smiles tenderly at you, then turns to Max. “Forgive my outburst, son. I can see how much you care for each other.”

Max looks relieved. “Of course, sir. I understand completely.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Crisis averted.

Your father stands, raising his glass. “To young love. May you always treat my daughter with the honor and respect she deserves.”

“I will, sir,” Max promises earnestly.

You all clink glasses, the tension dissolving. Conversation resumes, lighter and more relaxed now.

Later, as Max helps you on with your coat, your father claps him warmly on the back. “Thank you for making my daughter so happy. You’ll always be welcome in our home.”

Max’s face lights up. “Thank you, sir. That means the world.”

Lawrence winks. “I was young once too, you know. Just maybe keep the nicknames to yourselves around me.”

You all laugh together. Your heart swells with joy. Despite the awkward moments, the evening couldn’t have gone better.

As the chauffeur drives off into the night, you snuggle contentedly into Max’s shoulder. “Thank you for being so wonderful tonight,” you whisper.

He kisses your hair. “Of course, liefje. I would do it all over again for you.”

***

The sleek red Ferrari glints under the showroom lights as you and Max admire your reflection in the gleaming curves.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Max grins, running his hand along the hood. “I can’t wait to take her out on the open road.”

You smile at his childlike enthusiasm. “She certainly is gorgeous. You have great taste, babe.”

The salesman steps forward eagerly. “Yes, the Ferrari SF90 Stradale is our newest supercar model. Twin-turbo V8, 720 horsepower. She’ll do 0 to 60 in under three seconds.”

Max’s eyes light up. “Incredible. I think I’m in love already.”

You laugh. “Should I be jealous?”

“Never,” Max winks, pulling you in for a quick kiss.

The salesman smiles indulgently. “Why don’t we step into my office to finalize the paperwork?”

“Sounds good,” Max agrees, lacing his fingers through yours as you follow the salesman.

In the sleek minimalist office, you both take a seat across from the desk as the salesman pulls up Max’s file.

“Excellent. Everything looks in order, Mr. Verstappen,” he says briskly. “If you just sign here and here, we’ll get you all set up.”

Max eagerly scrawls his signature on the documents. You watch in amusement — he reminds you of a kid on Christmas morning.

“Alright, congratulations!” The salesman stands and shakes Max’s hand. “The SF90 is all yours. We’ll have her prepped and ready for you within the hour.”

“Amazing, thanks so much,” Max grins, standing up.

You’re about to follow him out when a flash of black catches your eye. Through the office window, you spot a brand new Ferrari model on display in the showroom.

“Ooh what’s that one?” You ask curiously, gazing at the aggressive curves and styling.

The salesman glances over. “The new 812 Competizione A. It is a limited edition 599-unit production run. Just unveiled last month.”

You feel a thrill run through you as you take in the stunning hypercar. “It’s incredible. I have to have it.”

Max raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? You want that one too?”

You turn to the salesman decisively. “I’ll take it. My family has bought from Ferrari for years, my name should be in your client database.”

“Of course, Miss Stroll,” the salesman nods, typing rapidly into his computer. “I see you right here. Let’s start the paperwork and we’ll get the car ordered for you right away.”

You grab your purse, immediately fishing out your black Centurion Card. “Just bill it to my usual card, thanks,” you say breezily, handing it over.

You can feel Max’s stunned gaze on you but you keep your focus on the salesman, reviewing the spec sheet and customization options.

This new Ferrari is just too sexy to resist.

Within minutes, the paperwork is signed and you’ve secured the very first 812 Competizione A destined to stay in Monaco. You grin excitedly — you can’t wait to get your hands on it.

“Thank you so much, just have it delivered to my place in the Fontvieille district when it’s ready,” you tell the appreciative salesman before turning to leave.

You lace your fingers through Max’s, still smiling about your new spontaneously purchased hypercar. “Ready to take your new baby out for a drive?”

Max is quiet as you walk back to the showroom, seemingly lost in thought. He stays silent as the gleaming red SF90 Stradale is pulled around, not even cracking a smile when the salesman hands over the keys with a flourish.

It’s not until you’ve been driving for several minutes, weaving along the coastal roads overlooking the Mediterranean, that Max finally speaks.

“That was 2.13 million euros,” he states flatly. “And you just ... bought it. Without a second thought.”

You glance over, taking in the unreadable expression on his face. “I mean, yeah, it’s a beautiful model. Why not just get it?” You say casually.

Max shakes his head slowly. “I just can’t wrap my head around having that kind of money. That you can just drop over two million without thinking twice.”

You shift slightly, feeling defensive. “I’m sorry, does it make you uncomfortable? I know I grew up with a very different lifestyle ...”

“No, that’s not it at all,” Max interrupts. He pauses, gazing out at the sparkling blue sea pensively.

“It’s just … I’m not used to being with someone who’s on my level. Financially, I mean. All my previous girlfriends, I always had to take care of everything. Pay for dinner, vacations, whatever they needed.”

He turns to look at you. “But you’re different. You have as much money as me, more even. You can buy a hypercar on a whim, no problem. It’s new territory.”

You chew your lip. “I don’t want you to feel emasculated or anything. If you want to pay or take care of things ...”

Max shakes his head again, more firmly this time. “That’s just it — I don’t. I like that you’re independent. It’s really ...”

He pauses, blushing slightly. “Sexy. That’s the word. It’s sexy that you have your own money and success. I’m not used to feeling that in a relationship before.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. That was not the reaction you were expecting.

Max glances at you almost shyly. “Is that weird to say? I just mean, it’s different than what I’m used to, but in a good way. Like we’re equals, you know?”

Slowly, a smile spreads across your face. “No, not weird at all. I get what you mean.” You reach over and squeeze his hand. “This is new territory for me too. But I like discovering it together.”

Max’s face lights up with that radiant smile that melts your heart. “Me too, liefje.”

Your conversation flows easily as you cruise along the seaside, the setting sun glittering on the water. And seeing the look in his eyes when he glances at you now — equal parts love and admiration — you realize just how right it feels.

Being with someone who can match you in every way is new and different for both of you. But you have a feeling it’s the start of something beautiful.

***

The energy buzzing around the paddock is electric as you walk hand-in-hand with Max towards the Red Bull motorhome. Fans line the barriers, cheering and shouting his name. Max smiles and waves, slowing to sign autographs and snap selfies with outstretched phones.

You hang back politely as he interacts with his adoring public. You know the drill by now, having attended countless races with your dad and brother over the years. Blend into the background and let the drivers have their moment.

“Max! Can we get an autograph?” A young girl calls out eagerly, brandishing a cap and marker pen.

“Of course!” Max says graciously, letting go of your hand to walk over.

You hang back contentedly, happy to let him have his moment with his supporters. You catch snippets of their supportive comments as Max signs item after item, posing for selfies in between.

“You’re the greatest, Max!”

“That last win was epic. Get that fourth title this year!”

“We love you so much!”

You smile to yourself. Seeing how much joy Max brings to these fans makes your heart swell with pride and affection.

As you stand waiting patiently, you overhear the girl lean over to her friend and not-so-subtly whisper, “Who’s the chick with Max? She looks kinda stuck up if you ask me.”

Your smile freezes. You see the girl jerk her head rudely in your direction, glaring at you.

“I know right,” her friend agrees in a carrying whisper. “Another gold-digger who managed to sink her claws into a rich man too blind to see what she’s doing.”

You clench your jaw, stung by their spiteful words. Who do they think they are, judging you when they don’t even know you?

Max is still occupied with the other fans, oblivious. You debate whether to just ignore the rude girls. But their jealous gossiping has sparked your defiance. Why should you stay silent?

Squaring your shoulders, you turn and level a steady gaze at them. “For your information, I don’t need a rich man. I am a rich man,” you state coldly.

Their eyes widen in shock, mouths dropping open stupidly. Clearly they weren’t expecting you to confront them.

Before they can react, Max is suddenly beside you, slipping his arm around your waist.

“Whoa, everything okay here?” His gaze darts between you and the embarrassed fans.

You take a breath, ready to explain it away. But Max doesn’t give you the chance.

“You know, if anything, I’m the one who got my claws hooked into her,” he announces, lips curving into a smirk.

Now it’s your turn to gape at him in surprise. The nasty fans look completely bewildered.

“That’s right ladies, I’m just a kept man,” Max continues lightly. “Her arm candy. A sugar baby, if you will.”

He pretends to examine his nails arrogantly and you have to stifle a shocked laugh. Is he actually joking about being your boy toy right now?

Max leans in conspiratorially. “Between you and me, dating a Stroll has done wonders for my bank account. I mean have you seen the new and improved garage decor?”

You smother your grin behind your hand as he prattles on, winking at you.

“So don’t worry about Y/N here, she can buy and sell me twice over.” Max presses a smacking kiss to your cheek. “Isn’t that right, schatje?”

Finally you can’t hold back your laughter anymore. Max joins in and the fans stare, unsure how to react.

“Come on sugar mama, we’ve got a race to win,” Max says breezily, steering you away.

Once safely inside the garage, you turn to him incredulously. “What was that all about?”

Max shrugs, his expression sobering. “I heard what they said. Just wanted to shut them up and defend my girl.”

Your heart melts. Standing on your tiptoes, you kiss him soundly. “My hero. Thank you.”

Max still looks bothered. “You shouldn’t have to deal with stupid gossip. Especially not lies about you using me.”

You slip your arms around his neck persuasively. “It usually doesn’t get to me. Let the jealous haters talk. We know the truth.”

He sighs, gently moving a strand of hair from your face. “I just hate anyone thinking badly of you. You deserve the world.”

Touched by his sincerity, you pull him down into a soft kiss. When you finally draw apart, an idea pops into your head.

“Although ...” you begin thoughtfully, “Maybe we should lean into it.”

Max looks confused. “What do you mean?”

You grin mischievously. “You’re my hot trophy boyfriend. I need to show you off and treat you right.”

Comprehension dawns on Max’s face and he barks out a laugh. “Well I won’t say no to being spoiled.”

He winks roguishly and you dissolve into giggles. The stupid gossipers don’t know anything. You and Max are just perfect together.

For the rest of the weekend, you shamelessly flaunt your new role as Max’s “sugar mommy.” At every opportunity, you shower him with over-the-top gifts and PDA in front of the other drivers and team members.

Designer watches, bouquets of flowers, bottles of decadent gin for his favorite drink — you deliver them all publicly to Max along with cooed compliments and kisses. You can see the amusement hidden behind his mock protests at being “objectified.”

The other drivers are endlessly entertained. Daniel teases Max about latching onto an heiress, while Charles jokingly asks if you have a sister he can date.

By the time Max wins on Sunday, cementing his spot at the top of the championship, the silly gossip from earlier in the weekend is long forgotten.

As you snuggle together on the flight home from the race, you turn to Max curiously. “So, how does it feel being a kept man?”

He pretends to consider it deeply. “Hmm, tough to say. The gifts and pampering were nice ...”

You swat his chest indignantly and he laughs.

“Kidding, kidding,” he assures, pulling you tighter against him. “Obviously I love you for you, not your money, schatje.”

His voice softens. “Thank you for this weekend. I know the gossip bothered you, even if you didn’t show it. I’m lucky to have you by my side.”

You tilt your face up to meet his lips, kissing him tenderly. No more words are needed. Being together says it all.

***

The roar of the crowd surrounds you as you step onto the red carpet on Max’s arm, cameras flashing wildly. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and leans in close.

“You ready for this, liefje?”

You take a deep breath and nod, pasting on a smile. “Ready.”

This is your big formal debut — attending your first FIA Prize Giving Ceremony as Max’s girlfriend. And with him just winning his fourth World Championship, all eyes are sure to be on you both tonight.

You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you begin the walk down the carpet, waving politely to the fans shouting Max’s name. He looks completely at ease, his fourth-straight title boosting his confidence even higher.

You, on the other hand, feel like you might trip over your gown at any moment under the blinding spotlights. But you keep your chin high, channeling the poise that’s been drilled into you since girlhood.

Perks of growing up in high society — you know how to fake it on a red carpet.

About halfway down, an interviewer steps forward, microphone in hand. “Max Verstappen! Congratulations on your fourth championship. How are you feeling tonight?”

Max smiles easily. “Thank you, it feels amazing. It was a great battle all season long so this one feels very satisfying.”

The reporter nods, then turns her attention to you. “And who is this lovely lady accompanying you tonight?”

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N,” Max introduces you proudly.

“Y/N, you look absolutely stunning tonight, if you don’t mind me saying,” the interviewer gushes. “That gown is exquisite!”

You relax slightly, warming to her friendly tone. “Thank you so much!” You smile.

“In fact, both of your outfits are fabulous,” she continues. “Who are you wearing tonight?”

Max’s face lights up. He squeezes your hand excitedly. “Funny you should ask — we’re both wearing custom Y/N Stroll originals!”

You have to resist the urge to giggle at the unconcealed pride in his voice.

The interviewer’s eyes widen. “No way, you designed these yourselves?”

You nod, enjoying her reaction. “I did, yeah. Fashion design is a bit of a hobby of mine.”

“A hobby she’s amazing at,” Max interjects adoringly. “She could have her own luxury brand if she wanted. I feel so honored to wear her work.”

You blush at his high praise. “Oh Max, stop. But thank you, that’s so sweet.”

The reporter seems thrilled at this exclusive scoop. “Incredible! It looks like you have some serious talent, Y/N. Any plans to pursue that more seriously?”

You hesitate briefly. Your father has been gently nudging you to take over his fashion business when he retires. But that’s still in the future ...

You decide to give a lighthearted answer. “We’ll see! Fashion does run in my family so it’s always a possibility.” You finish with a coy smile.

“How wonderful! We’ll be keeping an eye out for Y/N Stroll designs in the future then,” the reporter concludes enthusiastically.

You grin and wave as she lets you continue down the carpet, Max’s arm securely around your waist.

“See, that wasn’t so bad was it?” He murmurs in your ear.

“Not at all,” you admit. “I might get used to this whole red carpet thing after all.”

Max winks. “Stick with me and you’ll be a pro in no time.”

Your heart flutters happily. Being by his side just feels so right.

Inside the lavish venue, you’re shown to your table near the front with the other top drivers and their partners. Max pulls out your chair politely before sitting down beside you.

You chat with the other girls at the table, fellow WAGs you’ve gotten to know over the course of the season. They gush over the dress you designed, making you promise to create something for them too.

Soon, the lights dim and the ceremony begins. You clap loudly as Max wins Driver of the Year, bursting with pride for your champion.

Finally, the moment comes for the big one. The announcer begins the buildup, recapping the season’s epic title battle between Max and his closest rival.

"… And in the end, one man emerged victorious for the fourth time in his young but dazzling career,” the announcer concludes. “Formula 1 World Driver’s Champion ... Max Verstappen!”

The room explodes into thunderous applause as Max squeezes your hand and makes his way up to the stage, beaming. You watch with tears in your eyes as he accepts the trophy, looking so handsome and accomplished.

After the ceremony finishes, Max makes his way back to you, trophy in hand. You throw your arms around him. “I’m so proud of you!”

He hugs you tight, then pulls back, his expression earnest. “I couldn’t have done it without your support this season. Having you by my side means everything to me.”

Your heart swells and you kiss him tenderly. “You deserve this so much. And nothing makes me happier than being with you.”

Max’s eyes shine. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Max.”

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queerfables · 9 months

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I wanted this post to be more coherent but I am coming apart at the seams. Listen. Listen to me. Listen look no look me in the eyes and listen LISTEN.

Crowley and Aziraphale know. They're in love, and they know. Their love is requited, and they know. That's why it hurts so much! They don't say it. They can't say it. The consequences for both of them could be disastrous. But they know, they know, they know.

This is forbidden love at it's absolute pinnacle. This is centuries of dancing around an unsayable, inescapable truth. Loving someone this way is intense. It's a fiercely romantic headrush, because everything is high stakes fantasy and it's you and your beloved against the world. It's a soul crushing nightmare because the thing you want more than anything is always there, just out of reach. It's passion and yearning and stolen touches and desperately hoping the other person understands all the things you can't say.

It's also just unbelievably stupid. You have a sizzling moment of intimacy with someone and then three days later you're trying to act like business associates.

This dynamic has been present since season one, and sometimes the atmosphere between Crowley and Aziraphale becomes urgent and surreal enough that they almost name it. There's the bandstand, where Crowley suggests they could run away together. There's Aziraphale in 1967 saying, maybe one day we'll dine at the Ritz. These aren't the words of those unsure of another's feelings. These are declarations made in the clearest terms they dare.

The clincher for me is Aziraphale's face when Shax says she wouldn't have thought he was Crowley's type. It's a nasty comment meant to play on Aziraphale's insecurities: "If you're anything to him, it must be something sordid, and I'm surprised you can even offer him that." And she completely misses the mark! Aziraphale disregards her words without a thought. That eyebrow says he knows exactly how Crowley feels about him, and Shax's insinuation is laughable. He is uniquely Crowley's type.

It's less definitive for Crowley, and it makes sense that it would be. For the most part, Crowley is the accelerator and Aziraphale is the brakes. It is hard to hold faith that someone wants you when all they can tell you is "slow down". That doesn't mean he's unsure of Aziraphale's feelings. It means that he's unsure how much he's allowed to say. Aziraphale wants him to push right up until he doesn't, and it hurts them both when they go too far and have to walk it back. Even so, Crowley's confession makes it pretty clear that they're both in on this unspoken thing between them:

"you and me ... group of the two of us ... and we've spent our existence pretending that we aren't"

And then he kisses Aziraphale. And he doesn't do it carefully or tentatively. He doesn't wait for Aziraphale to be ready. Because that's how this dance goes, isn't it? Aziraphale wants him to push, and it's going to hurt and they're going to have to walk it back but fuck it all because Crowley is going to give them the thing they've spent their existence pretending they didn't want.

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #good omens meta #fable talks good omens

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 6 months

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DAY TWENTY-EIGHT: Dry Humping w/ Spencer Reid

a/n: HEY HEY HEY!! So I am fully aware that Spencer was a child during college so this is an alternative universe where he's of the college age 💀 This is basically season one Spencer cause I wanna eat him.

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

TAGLIST: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

You didn't like how the other girls in the circle were looking at him. Their lustful eyes eating up a very nervous Spencer, the man playing with his fingers anxiously.

It was obvious that he wasn't used to being in places like this; where everyone was drunk, high or both, couples and randoms making out and practically fucking in every dark corner of the room. You never thought that you'd see The Spencer Reid, your college campus' genius, sitting in a spin the bottle circle in a random frat house.

You had no idea who convinced the poor boy that doing this was a good idea, but you would be damned if any other one of these girls were to get their hands on him. You liked him first — not just liked him — you claimed him. Everyone in your group knew that you liked him, so the fact that they had the fucking gall to look at him that way knowing you were there pissed you off.

"Alright, everybody!" A random bro shouted from on top of one of the dining room tables. "We were going to play Spin The Bottle, but I figured it'd be better if we play Seven Minutes in Heaven, seeing as though we have a special guest here with us tonight."

You knew exactly who he was talking about, and as your eyes lifted to look at Spencer, his gaze was already settled on you, but once he saw you were looking at him, he looked away bashfully. His face flushed a pretty red and so did his ears, and you could practically see the blood threatening to spill from his cuticles as he picked at them.

Your eyes narrowed at the jock angrily, every part of your body yelling at you to tend to Spencer.

But you swallowed it down.

A large group of people gathered around, and then the first spin of the night began. People were gleefully coming and going from the closet, a few of the couples manipulating the bottle so that it landed on them.

"Oh, shit!" One of the frat bros called out loudly. You looked curiously to see all eyes locked on you and Spencer, the tip pointing at you and the end pointing at him.

You must admit, you were a bit… known… around school. You wouldn't say you were popular, now that was a bit childish, but you definitely had connections in a couple different places.

The poor man looked almost frantic, looking at you then looking back down, almost as if saying you didn't have to. Oh, but you did.

"Seven minutes, pretty boy. C'mon." You said as you got up. His eyes were as big as saucers, his mouth gaping akin to like a fish would. You straightened your tight dress, reaching out a well manicured hand.

"If you want this to be over sooner then get up." You whispered sternly. He scrambled to interlock your fingers, and you lead him to the closet that was already significantly hot from the amount of bodies that had been in there already.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to." You reassured. "No, no… I-I want to, it's just…" He babbled, wringing his hands. "It's just what?" You pushed, stepping closer to him. He gulped, backing up slightly and knocking into the shelves behind him.

"I just don't know how." He didn't know how to make you feel good, how to pleasure you. He was embarrassed to admit to the girl that he liked, who was also totally out of his league, that he was a virgin.

"Why did you come here, then?" You questioned with a slight smirk. "Because… because you were here and I wanted to uh- maybe- I don't know-" You cupped his face, stroking his cheeks.

"Kiss me then, Spence."

"Wh- what?!" He stuttered.

"I said," You spoke, your lips brushing against his, "Kiss me." He gulped, looking down at your lips back up to your eyes, then back down to your lips again.

"Okay." He breathed.

He leaned forward, albeit hesitantly, and pressed your lips together. It started out slow, but with a lot of coaxing from you, he got comfortable. Your lips moved in tandem as the room heated up. You had no idea what had come over you when you placed both of his hands on your ass.

"Touch me." You breathed heavily. Your breasts pressed tauntingly into his chest, his cock hardening embarrassingly fast. "Are you sure?" You nodded. "Please."

He tested the waters with a light squeeze before shoving your hips together. His body stuttered as a loud whine fell from his mouth. You could feel his bulge against your plush body and Spencer wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole.

"Sorry, sorry." His apologies were frantic, but your nerves burned with need. "I'm fine with you grinding on me, baby." You reassured. "In fact, I like it." Normally, you wouldn't say you carried a dominating energy with you, but it was like you wanted to swallow the poor boy whole.

"Oh, God." He whimpered, but nonetheless joined your lips back together. You slipped your plush thigh through his legs, pressing it on his cock.

His hips jutted out, and you swallowed his cry. His grips on your ass turned deathly as he humped your leg like a bitch in heat.

"That feel good?" You cooed, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

He nodded fastly, his lips pressed together and his eyes closed. He was lost in the feeling of the friction, perspiration beading on his hairline. You practially eat the sight of his deep red face up.

"You're mine. Alright, pretty boy?" You asked ferociously. You wrentched his head back, sinking your teeth into the sensitive skin of his neck. He nodded. "Say it." He yelped when you nipped at his adams apple.

"I'm yours, fuck- all yours!"

Your stomach twisted with a pleasant warm feeling, which only increased rapidly which you felt his thrusts grow sloppy.

"You gonna cum, honey?" You asked through your marking. "Yes, yes, yes…" He babbled. "Good. Cum all over me." He let out one last loud moan before you felt the warmth of spend seep out and onto the hem of your dress.

There was a knock on the door.

"Okay, lovebirds. Time's up!"

You smirked at the fact that Spencer was shaking like a leaf in your hold.

"After this, we are so going to my dorm." You claimed. "Yes! Yeah, yeah… yes, please." He all but shouted.

#♡ ― nsfmeau !#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober day twenty eight #plus size reader #x plus size reader #plus size!reader #x chubby reader #chubby reader #spencer fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid kinktober #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x plus size reader #spencer reid smut #smut #fanfiction

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billysgun · 6 months

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bandage

billy the kid x sheriffs!daughter |requested!| after you found him wounded, you took him back to your house where you healed a very flirty billy.|

"you're a mess" you mumbled, hands working fast as you pressed the clean cloth into his wound

he spits through gritted teeth as he lays sprawled on your table

"lucky I found you" you whisper, thinking about how unlikely anyone else would be out in the fields when his horse flipped him over and dragged him with his hands gripped tight on the rein, splitting his leg open

"am I?" he grunts as you wipe the blood around his open leg

"why didn't you let go of the damn horse?" you scolded him but he only let out a pained chuckled

"can't lose my stuff, honey. plus your daddy would've done shit for it" he grins at you, nodding toward the framed certificate hung on the wall with your father's license. he's the local sheriff and would kill you for having this out-law on your dining table

"he works with crimes, not stupid accidents" you mumbled, grabbing the needle and threading it through his skin as he screamed out in pain

"he's a corrupted piece of shit you know" he yells out as you stitch him up, you snort at his comment, thinking it was bold of him to so openly hate on your family while you healed him. then again, the whiskey you had him chug for the pain was probably taking its effect

"and this was a crime, dear" he adds, and you look up at him

"tell me more, cowboy" you say sarcastically but he only smiles

"yeah well, I will! someone was shootin' my way and almost hit my horse, that's why he was runnin'!" he confesses and you tie the end of your stitch

"stray bullets sometimes happen, it is huntin' season" you mumble as you do a few more ties for good measure

"nah, people want me dead, dear" he relaxes when you step back and you undo your bloody apron

"downside of being an outlaw, I suppose?" you question and he lets out an airy laugh

"I need to get going though, thank you" he says, twisting his body over and you run to push him back down

"no, no, no. you ain't walkin' on that leg for at least 2 weeks" you say but he dismisses you, putting his weight on the other leg as he drags himself to the exit of your dining room

"guess that means I'll need a follow-up visit?" he smiles and you roll your eyes

"that would be nice. because of the leg" you add and he slowly nods

"right, for the leg" and just like that the outlaw was gone and you ran upstairs to mark 2 weeks from now in your planner with a grin like no other spread on your face.

an: thank you so much for requesting! I had so much fun making this <3

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tlou-reid · 9 months

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Cardigan ❤︎ Spencer Reid

♡ SUMMARY: spencer is finally home and all fem!reader wants is to be close with him (i picture this as season 9 reid but you do you)

♡ WARNINGS: smut, unprotected piv (be safe!) , ass slapping, fluffy smut, spencer being a cutie, showering together, not edited, 18+ minors dni

—♡

Spencer could’ve sworn you could hear his heavy footsteps as he made his way up the apartment building’s stairs. He had called you a few hours ago and let you know that they were finally loading up the jet to go home. After an excruciating, exhausting, and downright horrendous case all Spencer wanted to do was go home to you.

You couldn’t help yourself from making your way to the kitchen after hanging up with Spencer. It wasn’t that you felt the need to cook for him; he was a grown man, he could do it himself if he wanted food. But it was an act of love. After being away for almost two weeks and nothing but fast food and vending machine snacks, you knew he’d appreciate a warm, home cooked meal.

You heard the keyhole in the door turn as you sat his plate on the dining room table. You made your way to the door to be able to greet him as soon as he came in. The grin that spread across your face as he opened the door quickly faded as you saw the deep dark circles under his eyes. He looked so, so tired. Your heart fell, knowing he must have had an awful two weeks.

“Spence,” you said lovingly, reaching for his shoulders. His body instantly relaxed as you rubbed the tension out of his body. He stood in the doorway as your hands slid from his shoulders down his chest. Your hands followed the buttons of his purple cardigan down, undoing them as you went. Neither of you said anything, just allowing your actions to convey how much you missed him, how much you loved him, and how much you hoped he was feeling okay.

When his cardigan was fully unbuttoned your hands traced back up to his shoulders, helping him take it off. You grabbed his hand, lightly tugging him inside and setting his cardigan on the arm of the couch, him shutting the door as you did so. Still silent, you led him to the table by his hand, pulling his chair out and allowing him to sit.

Your hand ran through his hair before you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. Spencer’s eyes fell shut as your lips pressed against his skin. “You okay?” You spoke softly. Spencer just nodded, reaching towards to wrap his hands around your waist. His dinner plate was forgotten, but he made a mental note to thank you for the gesture later, as he pulled you into his lap. “Rough week,” was all he said.

You nodded, letting him bury his head into your shoulder. You knew sometimes this is what Spencer needed. Despite not liking when people touched him, he craved yours. It was like you were his own personal sense of home, and everything was okay as long as he could feel your skin. No killers, no victims, no violence, no nightmares. Just you and your soft skin and gentle touch. That was all he needed.

You weren’t sure how long you two stayed like that; just wrapped up with each other. His plate had definitely gone cold by the time his hands unwrapped from your waist. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled as you got off his lap, “I’m just really hungry.” You giggled, offering to heat his plate up for him. He declined, assuring you that your cooking was more than enough, and he was just grateful to have something to eat already made. Both of your hearts were full of love as you sat while he ate, continually complimenting your cooking.

When Spencer was done, you quickly cleared his plate for him, just sitting it by the sink for one of you to worry about tomorrow. You, once again, grabbed his hand and gently guided him to your shared bedroom. Physically, he wasn’t fragile. Spencer was strong. He’d been through more than almost anyone else on the planet, and he took it in stride. He took whatever came at him and not only moved on from it, but grew from it. But you were still scared he would break. After all, a person could only take so much.

“Shower with me?” Spencer asked once you both reached the bedroom. He sat on the edge to untie his converses. “Of course,” you hummed already making your way to the connected bathroom. You were turning on the water when Spencer entered the room, wearing only his boxers. You couldn’t help yourself as your eyes traced over every nook and cranny of his body. He was so beautiful. After a week, you were dying to be near him. To touch him. To have him touch you.

Spencer could feel the energy shift as he came in. He watched you as you undressed, stepping into the shower. He followed closely, letting his hand run over your chest as he stepped in. You guys stood facing each other, letting the warm water run over you. You held eye contact as you leaned to kiss him. You’d missed the feeling of his lips against yours.

He was the one who deepened the kiss. He could only control himself so much after being away for so long. He thought of you every night. Even when he couldn’t talk to you, you were on his mind.

His hands were on each side of your face as you made out in the shower. His tongue slipped into your mouth and your hands wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. God, you really did miss him.

Just as quickly as he deepened your kiss, he broke it. “I’m really sweaty,” he chuckled reaching for a rag to soap up. You washed each other. You noticed his half-hard cock as you washed his legs. You couldn’t help but press a kiss on his happy trail. He smiled when you stood up to face him again, pressing another kiss to your lips.

Spencer wrapped a large, fluffy towel around your body when you stepped out. He smiled as he ran his hands along your shoulders. He couldn’t help but give you another kiss before leaving the bathroom.

“Come here,” Spencer beckoned, bringing you over to the bed. You held your towel tight to your body as he leaned into where you stood between his legs. He was sitting, trapping you between his open, man-spreading legs. He started pressing deep kisses into your neck and mumbling how much he missed you in-between them. Your grip on your towel loosened as he showered you with love.

He noticed this, reaching up to move your hand completely. He was sucking a mark into your neck as he pulled your towel down. His mouth moved down, as did his hands. As he spread kisses across your chest, Spencer pulled you into his lap. Once you were straddling him, he attached himself to your left nipple. He kept one hand around your waist and brought the other up to toy with your right one.

“Spence,” you groaned, pushing yourself closer to him. After him being gone for so long, it was so easy for him to turn you on. Spencer could feel the wetness that had pooled around your pussy from where you were on his lap.

“Yes, baby?” He questioned, knowing what you wanted but wanted to hear you say it. “I want you,” you whined, dragging your pussy along his hard cock. “I’m tired baby, I don’t know if I can give it to you.” You whined at his teasing words.

He wasn’t lying. He was exhausted. He didn’t know how long he would last once he was inside of you.

“That’s okay,” you mewled, dropping your head into his shoulder, “I can do it myself, if that’s okay.” Spencer smiled, and let out a soft moan at your sweet, but dirty words. “Of course that’s okay,” he said.

That was all you needed, reaching a hand down in between you two and lining him up with your entrance. His hands rested on your waist as you sat down on him. You both let out a matching groan as you fully took him. “I missed you so fucking much.” Spencer said, moving forward to kiss you.

Your movements started light, barely lifting yourself off of his cock. The drag of his length inside of you felt so good as you bounced on his dick. As your movements started to pick up, Spencer was groaning underneath you, loving the way your ass slapped against his thighs as you bounced on him. He couldn’t help himself as he reached down to give it a light slap, before gripping it hard.

You let out a loud moan as you felt him guide your movements from behind. You pressed kisses into his neck as he moved you. You wanted to leave marks on him, just like he did to you, but you couldn’t. He’d have to leave again and you didn’t want anyone else to see the filthy things you two did when you were alone.

Spencer’s words were broken and weak as he sputtered out, “I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last.” You nodded, agreeing with him but unable to find words as his cock lit a fire inside of you. Your movements were fast and heavy, becoming erratic as you were reaching your high.

When his hand that wasn’t on your ass reached down between your bodies, rubbing on your clit, you let out a moan. Your legs began to feel weak and he had to work harder to guide you as finished on his cock. Your pussy squeezing him just right led him to his own, cumming inside of you.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I love you,” Spencer spoke softly, his throat slightly hoarse. You hummed in agreement, pulling yourself off of him. You tried not to make a mess as you made your way to the bathroom.

When you were done, Spencer was laying in his plaid sweatpants, propped up on pillows at the top of your bed. Your eyes couldn’t help but trace his long legs. He smiled at you, holding out the cardigan that you had pulled off of him when he came in.

“I figured you’d like to sleep in it.” You smiled and nodded, slipping it on and buttoning it up. As you both settled down and turned off the lights, all you could think about was how happy you were he was home and safe.

You slept together with your legs intertwined at the bottom of the bed. Spencer didn’t have any nightmares that night.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds blurb #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut

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lild00td00t · 10 months

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Unexpected Kisses

Characters: Buggy, Shanks, Ace, Sanji, and Franky

Some smoochies for our One Piece fellas <3 Enjoy

Buggy

• It is SO easy to catch this man off guard, he’s always ranting about one thing or the other. It’s either that or he’s drinking and partying the day away!

• So it’s a huge surprise when you kiss his cheek, and go back to your current task at hand as if nothing happened, and yes he absolutely WILL throw a fit when you pretend nothing happened.

• Claims he’s not embarrassed about the sudden kiss, but the shade of his face proves otherwise, he’s totally shocked.

• Deep down he probably appreciates it, but he’s simply too stubborn to admit it!

Shanks

• Sees it coming but pretends he doesn’t, will gladly return the kiss unless you’re feeling playful and run away. In which case a chase will ensue, he WILL get that kiss.

• kisses are such a huge thing between you two, much to the dismay of the other Red Haired Pirates, he’s such a physical and affectionate person, intimacy is a huge thing in your relationship!

• Hes so affectionate, and always playful with you, it’s almost as if you make him feel like a young man again.

•I personally think surprise ones would be his favorite because of their playful nature.

• The look on your face when you think you’ve shocked him simply makes him melt. So he allows you to believe he was completely unware of your plans, because he finds the expression on your face so worth it <3

Portgas D. Ace

• He is the king of suprises, though they blend in with pranks a lot of the time. He’s always finding ways to surprise you, whether it be with small gifts or tricks he’s picked up, he loves to impress you.

• So when you return the favor with a suprise kiss he’s over the moon. He was in his own little world, looking over the railing of the Moby Dick when he felt the peck you delivered. Prepare for it to be an all out kiss war!!

• Much like Shanks these kisses are playful! They involve you stealing his hat and usually tumbling over one another as he fights to get it back!

• I feel he takes enjoyment out of your suprise affections, because god knows he absolutely needs all the love you give him.

• He’s not shy giving you sudden kisses either, whatever you give him he returns! Whether you’re in the dining room, out shopping, on the deck of the Moby Dick, he’ll give you wonderful surprise kisses <3

Sanji

• He would be the most affected by your gesture. One minute he’s explaining how he seasons the skillet before beginning to cook, and the next you’re both hurrying to plug his nose up before he bleeds out

• While he’s explaining, there’s such a handsome smile on his face. Hearing him talk about something he’s so passionate about always makes your heart swell for him, so it was hard for you to NOT kiss him, it’s not your fault he wasn’t prepared!!

• He one hundred percent begs for more, going as far to turn his head and tap his cheek, asking for just one more!

• I don’t think Sanji would suprise you with kisses, but I do imagine kisses come with the drinks and food he brings for you.

• I also imagine Sanji times kisses perfectly. So that whenever it happens it feels like it’s out of a movie or a romance novel. He definitely has a knack for making you feel like you’re in the most romantic setting you’ll ever be in <3

Franky

• He’s probably going to react the most wholesome out of everyone, we’ve all seen him during sentimental stories, and he is truly the most precious cyborg!

• Loves it when you find him working, he’ll answer all your questions, none of them rousing suspicion until you ask him to look up

• That’s when you strike! Pecking his forehead while he sits idly, trying to comprehend what happened.

• Giggles non stop when you kiss him, his face will grow red and he’ll lean in, asking for more. He just can’t get enough of your affections!

• He will always return kisses, and as stated, will be an absolute giggling MESS! Only you can bring out such a soft and pure side of him

• The kisses you give him will simply make his day, if he’s ever bummed out or needing a recharge a cola is always nice, but you offer an extra incentive with suuupppeeerrrr kisses!!

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wordsinhaled · 10 months

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my ‘crowley loves aziraphale’ post needs a companion because there needs to be absolutely no doubt that aziraphale is ABSOLUTELY as gone on crowley so…

here i am just thinking about aziraphale’s “smitten, i believe…you’re being silly 🥰” and “why don’t you wait inside? you like waiting inside” (aziraphale knows what crowley likes, what makes him happy!). it’s aziraphale telling crowley he gets plenty of use out of the[ir] bookshop and it’s aziraphale making sure crowley feels welcome to come in whenever he likes and that it’s crowley’s as much as his to the point where crowley just feels comfortable making hot chocolate there

it’s the way he touches crowley so easily (hand on the shoulder in the s2 finale, arm around the waist in the graveyard support, hand on the chest and sliding down, the way aziraphale clasps crowley’s hand in both of his with such enthusiasm in 1941 when it could’ve been a prim handshake, the way their hands almost curl together when they’re dancing at the ball…)

(and that last one makes me unwell, because if their ball had been during the actual regency they would both have been wearing gloves… but at aziraphale’s ball, their hands can touch without any layer between, and he even seizes crowley by the hand to pull him onto the dance floor like he’s waited his entire life to do it)

thinking about the way aziraphale has always looked at crowley from the very beginning, soft, soft, so impossibly, unbearably soft. the way he darts little glances at him whenever he can, like he’s indulging himself in looking

thinking of the way he takes obvious pleasure in introducing crowley to people and saying they go back a long time. thinking of how when gabriel spoke about one person making everything alright aziraphale immediately thought of crowley

thinking about how we’ve always seen them dine or drink in public places but then in 1941 they’re having a private candlelit dinner, just the two of them

thinking of the way aziraphale looks at crowley at the end of the season - as crowley’s putting his glasses back on for the final time - in this earnest, intent, searching way. even in the midst of this argument he’s thinking why are you closing yourself off from me? you don’t do that anymore, we’re not like that anymore. it’s like he’s trying to read crowley’s features, like everything will fall into place if they just look at each other properly

thinking of how aziraphale touches his own lips after the kiss like he can press the memory of crowley’s mouth into them to keep forever

in short… aziraphale loves crowley so much it’s devastating

#this is fine i’m fine #good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #good omens 2 spoilers #i am probably missing a bunch but i am feeling very incoherent

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chlerc · 4 months

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what he wants ; charles leclerc

— summary; once a man tells you he isn’t ready, he will never be. Yet everything feels ready when the realisation of losing you finally hits, would you go back to Charles though?

pairing — charles leclerc x f. reader! ( third person story )

word count — 870.

content — angst! unestablished-relationship! stop going back to the guy that tells you he’s never ready. he’s reminded of you in every room of his apartment

NAVIGATION + author’s note: writing this drabble knowing i’ll never settle for anyone else but him, knowing no one would ever measure up to him is insane of me. this is for my backburner girlies, let’s all walk away from someone that never gives an absolute clear yes. two post a month? not me anymore.

song recs for this fic — backburner, say don’t go, my tears ricochet

CHARLES WALKED INTO HIS apartment, expecting the familiar warmth of shared moments and the comforting presence of Y/n. Instead, he was met with an eerie silence that filled the void left by her absence. The emptiness of the apartment echoed the void in his heart, and he found himself grappling with the realisation of what he had lost.

As he sauntered through the hallway, memories flooded back — memories of moments he had ignored, conversations he had dismissed, and the love he had taken for granted. The apartment was a museum of their shared life, each corner holding remnants of the person he had unknowingly pushed away.

He walked into the living room, where her favourite duvet lay on the couch. The soft fabric seemed to whisper tales of countless nights they spent wrapped in each other's arms. He couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for the times he had turned away from her attempts at conversation, too preoccupied with the struggles of his racing career during the 2023 season.

The dining table held her favourite mug, a silent witness to the countless mornings they had shared quiet moments over a cup of coffee. The mug he had gotten her as a joke on Valentine’s day with Mrs. Leclerc imprinted on it. Now, it stood alone, a solitary reminder of the companion he had neglected. Neither was the only woman he wanted as his Mrs. Leclerc here, at the end of the day he too was lonely.

The kitchen counter displayed a jar of her favourite cookies, a sweet indulgence that used to bring smiles to their faces. The same kitchen where they had spent most of their time baking sweet treats on weekends he was free. Now, it only served as a bitter reminder of the sweetness he had let slip away.

In the bathroom, her toothbrush holder and all her other essentials stood as silent symbols of her routines. Charles realised how he had taken her presence for granted, never truly appreciating the small details that made up their shared life. The side of the bed she used to slip into was untouched, her absence palpable. The closet, once filled with her clothes, now stood empty, reflecting the hollowness he felt inside.

The air carried the lingering scent of her perfume, haunting him with memories of the times he had dismissed her attempts to communicate. He could almost hear her voice echoing in the quiet apartment, a ghost of conversations that remained unresolved. The moments she had begged for his attention, a quick conversation but he so casually dismissed with a wave of his hand. Regret weighed heavily on his shoulders as he replayed the moments he had chosen career struggles over connection.

Charles sank onto the couch, surrounded by the artifacts of a love that had slipped through his fingers. The realisation hit him like a tidal wave — she had been his pillar of support during the storm of his career challenges, and he had pushed her away when she needed him the most.

As the evening wore on, Charles found himself retracing his steps through the apartment, trying to mend the fractures he had caused. He picked up her favourite cup, as if holding onto it could bring her back. He gazed at the empty closet, haunted by the absence of her presence. The realisation of his mistakes carved a deep ache in his chest as his eyes fell upon the paper sitting loosely on the coffee table, her words haunting him.

Charles, in a world of men, I hope you know I’d still choose you but I never know if in a room of women, would you ever choose me? I know I said I was okay with taking things slow and without any titles but maybe things aren’t so okay anymore when you read this. I know you said you weren’t ready for a relationship and we stuck to that but I can’t keep up with the lie anymore when I would forever want more with you. Some people aren’t ready no matter how much time you give them but you can’t keep waiting for them, can’t keep choosing them when they don’t choose you. I can’t do that anymore, I can’t keep choosing you Charles. I was willing to settle for whatever you would give me because a fraction of you was better than nothing at all. There isn’t any point losing my mind over you when you don’t mind losing me at all. I think that maybe I would always let you come back, if you told me that you were ready and wanted me back, I’m not sure there’s anything that I wouldn’t drop for you. I always wanted it to be you. Call it what you want but I know I love you, it was love for me.

Her words would probably stick with him forever but he should have told her he was ready, told her he loved her when he had the chance. He mind losing her. Yet now he never knew where to find her, his eyes searching for her in every crowd but it was too late for all of that now isn’t it?

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wildemaven · 2 months

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strangers : climax | dave york

pairing: dave york x fireader word count: 6307 content warning: 18+ blog; established relationship, workaholic Dave, Soft Dave, miscommunication, implied/ alluding to infidelity (there is none, reader just doesn't know this), Dave's phone deserves its own warning, mention of food and alcohol consumption, a moment in a dressing room where reader inspects her reflection/self image judgments, smut (oral f receiving, fingering, semi public sex, kissing after oral, public affection, some praise if you squint), angst and sad feels, somewhat jealous Dave in a kind of joking manner, lots of tears, reader is mentioned wearing a dress and jeans- but zero description features, no age given but it's implied she's at least over 30, no y/n, established relationship, this is au- no Carol or kids, if I missed anything let me know notes: it's finally here!!! I'm so sorry it took so long to get this chapter out into the world. I was working through lots of writing blocks, kids, travel, and sickness. But it's finally here!!!! This one is a doozy in so many ways but I'm so excited for it!! I'm so grateful for everyone who takes the time to read, share, comment and like each chapter of this series. I'm sad it's almost over!!

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It’s almost sadistic. Taunting every single fiber of your being as each chord of the melody, so perfectly orchestrated, looms over the hotel bar.

Your body betrays you. So easily giving in to the song's familiarity as each word reverberates through your chest. Flashes of Dave dressed in black, spinning you in front of your closest family and friends drowned out the urge to ask for the song to be skipped.

The liveliness of the crowd pouring into the dimly lit space helps block out the music. Your fingers swirl around the condensation slowly settling around your drink that sits untouched on the mahogany bar top. Your mind sifting through the day's events leading up to this moment, where you’re sitting alone, annoyance raging in your veins, in a dress you're starting to regret buying.

Lunch was relaxed and pleasant. The oceanfront views of the small cafe were something straight out of a movie. The weather was warm enough to enjoy the patio dining, a subtle breeze cutting through periodically. The ocean swells breaking masked the bustle of beach goers and passing cars. It was everything you had wanted to experience in this beautiful city.

Dave had been fully present since the intimate moment you both shared back at the hotel. More than he had been the entire trip thus far. Keeping you close to him, his hands never leaving you once stepping out of the room. As if to silently say I’m all here with you and I love you.

You relished in the closeness of him. Internally screaming with increasing avidity at his electrifying advances all afternoon.

Pulling your chair closer to where he sat so his free hand could nestle between your thighs. Too focused on twirling the pasta around your fork between discussing the most current events Dave had read in the morning paper while waiting for you to return from your walk.

Growing and falling Stocks. Government scandals that could trickle down and affect parts of his job. National affairs of all levels that jumped out to him. All things you hadn’t really kept up with until meeting Dave, were now things you looked forward to listening to him talk about and giving your input with your own perspective.

It's when Dave starts discussing something about sports or sports related that throws you off balance. Not necessarily so much in what he’s saying, but in what he’s doing when he’s saying it.

“So if they draft him this year, he’ll be a starting rookie…” Dave says as he shifts forward in his chair to adjust his position, hand slightly shifting where it still rests between your legs, his pinky sliding up the crotch seam of your denim with an ample amount of pressure.

“I’ve got money on him this season…” Your mind is too cloudy to even focus on what he’s saying.

An instant jolt of arousal splinters across your body, you use your napkin to hopefully muffle the moan you nearly choke on. Oh! It’s deliberate, Dave’s expression collected and unphased as he carries on, continuing to drag his digit up and down the thick layer of fabric.

“You okay, Honey?” He smirks, applying a little more weight behind his touch, before directing his attention to the server passing by the table and signaling for the check.

“Mmhmm— y-yeah! I’m fine. Great!” Your voice pitches at an unusual tone, frantically nodding in response as you wring the napkin between your fingers trying to not succumb to the pleasure currently building in your core.

It’s a tragic feeling when his hand abandons the heat of your thighs. His focus now is on inspecting the bill, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and tucking the proper amount of cash into the server’s book.

“That’s good.” He says all blasé as he looks at you with deadpan expression, situating his wallet in place again.

“Oh my god— Dave! You are the worst!” You toss your napkin at him, shaking your head as you laugh at his flirtatious behavior.

A proper casualness flows between the two of you following lunch— a familiar domesticity that had become so foreign to you. It now almost seems too far-fetched to think things have been strained in the last few months leading up to today and this seemingly perfect afternoon with Dave.

A stitch of guilt begins to weave through your mind as you take in Dave’s unreserved laughter and the way he looks so, extremely happy. Maybe you were premature in believing that there was anything wrong to begin with.

There’s a liveliness to Dave that has felt so rare to witness as of recently. No signs of stress. No closed off demeanor. No inkling of any distress that threatens to disrupt a marriage you so desperately desire to keep intact.

He’s remarkably your Dave— through and through.

The sun becomes far more dominating as the day passes. It’s fiery intensity has you squinting as you step out of the cute little ice cream shop you dragged Dave into after lunch.

Thankfully you’re more than prepared. A pair of dark sunglasses now perched on the bridge of your nose and the light fabric tank you opted for thanks to Dave’s attentive nature for planning, always checking the weather forecast incessantly as he sips from his morning coffee.

It’s no surprise at the influx of tourists that crowd the sidewalk as you both amble about. Your arm wrapped around Dave, his free hand gently resting at the nape of your neck, both of you working against the heat to keep your ice cream from dripping down the cone.

There’s a silence that hangs around the enjoyment of the summer treat, but it’s not uncomfortable. People watching and window shopping paired with brief moments of sweet banter have seemed to reignite the flame that had slowly begun to dwindle.

“Woah!” A swarm of teenagers rocketing by on skateboards out of nowhere has you stunned, several of them nearly knocking into you.

“What the fuck!” Dave’s quick like reflexes immediately turn on and he’s pulling you into his chest as the last few of the trailing skateboarders roll by. “Get off the sidewalk before you hurt someone, you punks!”

“Yeah yeah! Fuck off old man!” The last of the bunch, a typical backwards hat wearing unphased teen, yells over his shoulder raising his middle finger as he skates off into the distance.

“You okay?” Dave asks, giving you a quick once over.

“I’m fine. They didn’t hit me— just startled me more than anything.” You assure him.

“Still— those little assholes almost sideswiped you. And that little fucker calling me an old man?” Dave grumbles, following your lead to continue walking despite wanting to track down the group and give them a piece of his mind.

“Easy, they’re just having fun. If I remember correctly, you too were once a little asshole. There’s a laundry list of stories your mom has shared with me to back that up too.” He scoffs at your comment, knowing exactly which stories his mom has divulged to you about his wild adolescent years.

Your favorite being when a senior year prank almost resulted in suspension and losing scholarships. Dave and a few of his high school friends had decided to roller paper and egg the principal’s home one night. The group of teens had thought they pulled it off until they came to school and their pictures were plastered in every classroom— security cameras were not taken into account while planning such a prank. Dave’s parents caught wind of the incident and the missing rolls of TP from their home and forced Dave to turn himself in. Dave confessed as a lone prankster, adamant that he didn’t know who the other students were in the images, resulting in tutoring lower grade classmates the remainder of the semester and a few weekends of community service.

“I’m not an old man.” He murmurs against your temple, pressing his lips to your warm skin. His hand settles into your back pocket directing his attention to his almost finished ice cream.

“Didn’t say you were.” Grinning at his annoyance. “Your mom earlier— How is she? Everything okay?”

“She’s good. Everything’s good. Just checking in. Making sure we’re settling in okay here— you know how she is.” It feels like he’s saying a lot without saying much of anything.

“Yeah— definitely sounds like her. Feels like it’s been forever since I’ve talked to her. We should invite them over for dinner when we get back. Proper catch up— share about our trip with them in person.” You look at him, his head nodding along at the suggestion.

You’ve always had a close relationship with his mother, Carol. Weekly trips to the farmers market and coffee dates became a regular thing after you and Dave married. Family dinners took place once a month, rotating between each other’s houses or restaurants. Carol never wanted to be one of those overbearing mother in laws, always making sure that you and Dave didn’t feel suffocated by her and Dave’s dad’s presence.

“Okay. I’ll umm— I’ll call her when we get back. See what her and dad’s calendar looks like. I’m sure they’ll jump at the chance to get together, since our busy schedules haven’t seemed to line up in the last few months.”

“Perfect.”

There’s a beat of silence that follows making plans with his parents. Like there was more he wanted to say but left it unsaid. You don’t push for more and let any needling thought dissolve.

“How was it?” Dave points to the remaining milky soup that’s settled into the top of your semi soggy cone.

“It was delicious.” You tell him, then lapping at a few random drips racing down your wrist with your tongue, savoring the last of its salty sweetness.

“Let me have a taste of it.” He says, pulling you both out of the main flow of people walking behind you.

“What? You don’t even like this flavor, Mr. Vanilla is the only flavor that truly matters.” You playfully mock his go-to choice of a single scoop of plain vanilla, not even a punch of vanilla bean or a sprinkling of chocolate chunks— he’s a simple man.

“Maybe my taste buds have evolved?” He counters, pulling you flush against him under the shade of a store awning. “Give me a taste.”

Everything around you fades to the background, it’s just the two of you. Dave’s lips molding to yours. His tongue gently skims over your lower lip, silently seeking entrance.

It’s unhurried and thorough. A stark contrast from the chilly sensation that still lingers from the frozen dessert and the heat emanating from the way Dave’s tongue languidly traces over every bit of surface he can reach. Dizzying your senses, your mind fully immersed in the way he still tastes of sweet vanilla as he explores every detail of your mouth. Lapping at the remnants of the melted salted caramel that coats your tongue.

It’s vulnerable and thrilling— feeling so right and fully present together.

Your ice cream cone falls from your hand, crashing hard on the cement walkway, giving you the freedom to wrap your hands around his neck and relax even more into the kiss as Dave guides you through it. His hand squeezes your ass through your denim pocket, securing you against him. His other hand cradles your face as he swallows the small moans you produce when he nips tenderly at your bottom lip.

“Dave—“ Is the only coherent word you can think of when he finally breaks the kiss. Your fingers tighten around his short hair as you float back to the ground.

“I like the way it tastes on you. Might be my new favorite flavor.” He smiles, releasing small puffs of his breath over your lips.

It was the first shop that caught your attention, the front display had you stopping in your tracks. Your initial interest to merely window shop, a signal to Dave that you were interested in the possibility of checking out more of their inventory.

“Sweetheart? You doing okay in there?” Dave asks cautiously, as if to not scare off any potential decisions you might be deliberating over from behind the velvet curtain of the dressing room.

It’s nothing new, a song and dance you’ve been through before— turning and inspecting from head to toe. Your mind in an epic battle with the reflection framed in front of you, dreading anytime you step foot in anything that resembles a fitting room.

Except this time you’re not tearing apart every little thing about what you’re seeing, finding all the negative reasons as to why this particular dress isn’t working.

It’s the complete opposite, because you love the dress and you can see yourself wearing it on many occasions without a doubt.

An ambered hue that reminds you of autumn when the leaves turn, and Dave spending hours in the yard gathering pile after pile while you bake a seasonal pie, watching him from the kitchen window.

The tiered tulle fabric plucks a peculiar scene from your memory. Its flowy and dramatic silhouette is reminiscent of the dress you had worn to last year’s CIA Gala. Dave kept you close for the entirety of the evening. Your arm wrapped around his as he talked with colleagues, some new whose names you wouldn’t remember and others who had slowly worked their way into a more permanent place in your lives with regular dinner parties and monumental celebrations. Dave’s hand planted on the small of your back, his thumb drawing soft shapes where your dress strategically exposed your back, you were his grounding force among a sea of highly regarded men and their significant others.

“Hey- is everything okay?” Dave’s head now visible as he pulls the curtain back just enough to check in with you, his hushed tone barely audible over the upbeat music that the trendy boutique has playing through the store.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” You say flatly as you continue to inspect your reflection, the hang tag with the bold asking price of the dress held between your restless fingers.

“Wow— Sweetheart, you look… Wow!” Speechless. Dave stands stunned behind you, taking in every bit of you, completely captivated.

“Yeah? It feels like a lot. I have a dress back at the room I can wear instead…” You say, watching the arduous battle he’s sorting through in his mind, his smitten smirk doing wonders to help settle your dress turmoil.

“No— No this, this is perfect. I love it so much. You definitely should get this one.” Dave says persuasively, a beat of sensualism exuding from where he now stands with his chest flush to your back, his hands attempting to bypass the layers of fabric in search of somewhere to efficiently affix himself to you. “Reminds me of that dress you wore to the Gala last year. You looked stunning. So much so I couldn’t keep my hands off of you the entire night. Pulled you into that closet and fucked you while the awards ceremony carried on.”

“Hmm, I remember.” You smile, your stomach flipping at the way he so vividly remembers that evening too. “But the price is a little much though. Like too much.” Dropping the price tag, allowing it to hang freely from the dress instead of mocking your sticker shop distress.

“Don’t worry about the price— it’s fine.” You gasp when he connects with your skin, a shiver zipping up your spine, his lips fervent and assertive as they work up the expanse of your neck.

Dave’s hand catches your head as it tips to the side, allowing him more ample space to roam. Your skin in his teeth triggers a soft whimper in your throat, your eyes fluttering closed as you get lost in the sensation of him.

It’s a blur of calculated movements on his part, your body receptive to his smooth control, moving along with ease until your back settles against the wall of the dressing room. The carpeted floor envelops the sound of him falling to his knees. Dave’s eyes glazed over as he stares up at you, their usual golden hue dappled with gleaming eagerness. His hands fumble with the hem of the dress skirt briefly, delighted when he finally manages to breach the abundant layers of fabric. The brush of his fingers on your skin as his hands skim up your legs is all the forewarning you’re given before he’s pulling down and removing the lace panties that you’ve been soaking through all afternoon because of him.

“Dave— what are you doing?” A breathless question, one you don’t really need a response to as he looks up to you one more time, his pointer finger resting on his mouth then lifting your leg over one of his shoulders.

He takes in the sight of your glistening wetness, his mouth watering at how you’re dripping for him. The urge to taste you is strong and he gives into it fully.

From above all you can see is bunched fabric and brown tousled locks when he connects to you, his angular nose pressed into the patch of hair that covers your mound, that first tentative kiss to your sex delicate and heady. The soft pressure of his flat tongue has your eyes rolling back when he starts to lick up and down, savoring the deliciously sweet taste of your arousal. Desire forging through your body with a deep buzzing intensity.

“Oh fuck! If we get caught— Ah!Shit. Dave— Baby, that feels amazing—” You purr in what you hope is a hushed tone, tilting your pelvis just so, a dire need for a climactic release.

Dave’s tongue moves in slow circles, teasing and flicking at your clit. His ministrations causing a slow tingle to build in your lower abdomen, steadily increasing in strength as he goes.

“Ma’am, how’s everything going in there?” The store attendant asks, completely unaware of the lewdness taking place on the other side of the current.

“Mmhmmm! Great! The dress is p-perfect!!” Your voice shoots up an octave when Dave inserts two fingers into your fluttering pussy in one quick thrust, moving them in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue on your aching clit.

“That’s so great to hear. If you need any help, don’t hesitate to holler.” She says before you hear the clicking of her boots retreating.

You are squirming and quietly moaning, your knees nearly buckling as the fiery pleasure gains momentum, completely lost in the blissful sensation.

“You hear that, Baby. She said don’t hesitate to holler. Doing so good for me— I can never get enough of you!” His fingers hitting that delicious little spot that makes your toes curl, over and over again.

“Dave— don’t stop!” And he doesn’t.

He senses the tension building in your body, your walls seizing up around his deft fingers, intensifying his movements, his tongue lapping at every inch of your folds as your arousal runs down his hand.

“Baby, I'm coming.” You say right before your jaw goes slack, a silent whine only noticeable to you and Dave fills the small space. Your vision dusted in white, a euphoric sensory cloud of light bursting behind your eyes.

Dave catches you when it becomes too much to stand, whimpering at the loss of his fingers seated so firmly inside you.

Your skin is dewy. Glowing under the small dressing room light. The beads of sweat running down the length of your neck, sliding down the slopes of your breast, migrating somewhere below the fabric of the dress.

Dave catches a few salty drops, his tongue trailing over your clavicle makes you aware that he has removed himself from the underside of the skirt.

You taste the brininess and the sweet tang of your arousal when he licks into your mouth. Zero time to catch your breath, his tongue tangling effortlessly with yours.

“Hmmm— I take back what I said earlier. I love the way you taste— only flavor for me!” He says smirking against your tingling lips.

“You are such a menace. But I love you for it.” You pull him in for one last chaste kiss.

“I love you so much, Sweetheart.” He kisses your forehead, then bends to pick up your discarded panties, stuffing them in his front pocket.

“Seems like it would be wrong to not buy the dress after that little move you pulled.” Giggling as you begin the process of undoing the back zipper.

“Knew that would help sway your decision.” He says with an impish grin and wink.

Your reservation has come and gone. 30 minutes to be exact. Misery and frustration fill your veins as you stir the tiny straw in the watered-down concoction. The cocktail-soaked cherry, normally your inaugural sprinkling of how well the drink was mixed, now lays overlooked and forgotten at the bottom of the glass.

The bartender, who checks in with you like clockwork every 10 minutes or so to see if you needed a refill albeit your obvious lack of consumption from the original drink he made, has shown zero annoyance over the fact that you have taken up space in not one, but two chairs at his bustling bar. Your small clutch placed in front of the empty seat reserved for your husband who was supposed to meet you here an hour ago.

Dave and you had made your way back to the hotel after purchasing the dress, giving yourselves plenty of time to get ready for the evening Dave had planned out.

It was hard to keep your hands off each other. a magnetic effervescence had you contemplating whether to call off the reservation all together despite Dave’s ecstatic adamancy to make it to the reservation on time. Both of you managed to work against the intense pull, only sharing shy glances and brushing of limbs standing side by side in front of the bathroom mirror while getting ready.

Dave didn’t shy away from flattering you as he helped zip you in, causing you to fight against tears that threatened to ruin the dramatic makeup that paired perfectly with your dress.

I love you. You are so beautiful. How did I get so lucky? I can’t wait to get you out of this dress later.

Dave’s hand molds to yours, a corner of his mouth lifted as you eagerly drag him from your hotel room. Taking advantage of the privacy the small offshoot hallway provides from the main corridor of the floor, he draws you back to him and without hesitation he kisses you with a fiery tenderness.

“Alright. We need to go.” He says, breathless and not all that convincing.

“Do we though? We could just swipe the key, make our way back inside, order room service— you can get me out of this dress. See what I may or may not be wearing underneath.” You murmur against his smile, your tongue sensually gliding over the underside of his upper lip causing him to release a heavy sigh, as if he really wants to do exactly just that.

“You drive a hard bargain, Sweetheart. And as enticing as all of that sounds— amuse me and go along with what I have planned. The sooner we go, the sooner we can get back here and I can slowly undress you.” He counters, leaving you little room to dispute his well thought out plan for the evening.

“Alright, Mr. York. We'll play by your rules.” You bat your eyelashes at him. “Dinner. Then straight back here—“

A soft buzzing cuts you off. Dave’s body tenses against yours, releasing you from his hold to retrieve his phone from his black slacks.

“I need to take this— it’s work.” His demeanor completely shifting from his usual sweet carefree self to closed off and mysterious.

“Okay. Call them later then. They can leave you a message.” You reach for his hand to continue to make your way down to the restaurant. He pulls away, promptly taking a few steps back, his focus still on the number flashing on his phone screen.

You’re not sure what hurts more. The fact that Dave is putting work first once again or how he so quickly recoiled when you reached for him.

“I can’t. I need to take it.” He says, finally looking at you with pleading eyes, and you hate how much you so willingly give into his need to brush off the plans he was only moments ago so eager to get to.

“Dave— Fine.” Releasing a heavy sigh into the narrow hallway, tightening your grip on the small purse that holds your phone, lip gloss and key card, doing your best to mask the resentment and defeat simmering just below the surface.

“I’ll be quick. Go grab us a seat at the bar and I’ll meet you there when I’m finished.” He doesn’t give you an opportunity to get another word in, turning to let himself back into the room.

The bottom of your dress floats in the air, kicking out with each step you take, making your way to the main hall of the floor in the direction of the elevator. Further from Dave. Closer to being alone yet again. Suppressing your swirling emotions for the time being.

Dave’s hushed voice echoes down the walls. Never actually making back into the room before answering the call. Out in the open. Zero care that his wife is still within earshot.

“Hey, Ashley… Yeah, she just left. I told her to just wait for me at the bar.”

You stop dead in your tracks. The swish of your dress is now still at your feet, hanging in its normal wearing state. Your blood runs cold as your brain rapidly tries to digest what you just heard.

Your heart clings to how easily Dave had been so present and affectionate since this morning. That sinking feeling of your suspicions being revealed. I knew this whole day was too good to be true.

Everything feels like it’s narrowing. The hallway. Your vision. Your airway. Smaller and smaller.

Something compels you to keep moving. Further from Dave. Closer to being alone at the bar, away from this man who you no longer find recognizable at this moment.

“Excuse me. Can I get a Scotch, neat, side of water please?” Dave’s whereabouts are no longer unknown to you, leaning an elbow onto the bar as he orders himself a drink, his other hand resting on the back of the chair that has kept you comfortable while you wait.

“Sorry, that took longer than expected.” Dave apologizes, sealing it with a kiss to your cheek.

You hum a lackluster response. Gnawing at your bottom lip as you focus on the dilapidated napkin you’ve been rolling and unraveling, folding and unfolding for the umpteenth time.

“You okay?” Dave asks, his hand moves to rest on your back but now it’s your turn to recoil from his touch, leaning forward before he’s able to make contact.

“Yeah— I’m great.” You say flatly, only briefly looking at him to deliver your annoyed smile, then back to the crinkled napkin that’s now serving as an absorbent to pooling condensation.

“Here you are sir.” The bartender interrupts, placing the single malt and ice water on the bar, Dave nods his thanks.

You don’t have it in you to pry or question his tardiness. So you continue to sit in silence, watching Dave out of your peripheral properly dilute his drink so it’s suitable for sipping.

“You’re not wearing your ring?” He points out to your bare ring finger then takes a light sip of the diluted scotch.

The fingers of your left hand pause, fanning out so you can inspect the observation yourself. The usually adorned finger is stripped, lacking your wedding band and engagement ring.

“Oh— I must have forgotten to put it back on after we went to the pool…” You hadn’t realized how naked it felt all day, the fingers of your right hand soothing over the indent skin, recalling when you had tossed the jewelry haphazardly into your bag yesterday.

“You don’t think these strangers will get the wrong idea?” You sense an attempt at humor in his voice, only he has failed to read the room. His government skills not sensing you have zero interest in Dave’s untimely decision to be a humorist. “A beautiful woman, alone at a bar, without her wedding rings— Don’t want—“

“Excuse me— can you put my drink on his tab? He’ll be taking care of it, along with your generous tip.” You alert the passing bartender. You swivel your barstool just enough to reach around Dave’s solid form to grab your purse, then swivel in the opposite direction to stand. You tuck your purse under your arm, before delivering the irritation that has finally begun to boil over. “I think the only stranger confused about our marriage is you, Dave.”

“Wait— Where are you going?” His hand gently clasped around your upper arm, halting your departure.

You glance down at where his hand holds you, his thumb actively moving in soft circles over your skin, trying his best to distract and diffuse the air between you. Unfortunately, too little too late.

“I’ve been sitting here waiting for you, Dave— for a fucking hour. I’m going back to the room.” You pull your arm from his grip and leave without another word.

Dave somehow manages to catch the same elevator, but you don’t bother acknowledging his presence as he stands on the opposite side of the small metal cabin. The other riding passengers don’t suspect you two even know each other or the emanant rift that is unfolding between you, just two lone hotel guests sharing a lift to their designated floor.

2 stops allow for the other guests to get on to their respective floors, leaving only you and Dave left to continue the ride to the final stop.

The striking silence is met with electric chords spilling from the small speakers in the elevator. The familiar tune feels like an old friend you’ve been reacquainted with after months apart. Those first few lines wrap around you, embracing you fully— I’ve missed you so. The chorus drawing your gaze to where your husband stands slouched against the mirrored wall, looking equally as somber as you feel, his eyes already drawn to you in the same manner.

A smile tugs at your lips, a fleeting moment of remembrance to that night so many years ago. That night where Dave was more than just a stranger in a bar. He was your future. Your home. Dave without a doubt was the best thing to happen to you.

The memory of meeting Dave is interrupted by a soft ding and the doors slowly unveiling your intended destination.

You stalk towards the room with a graceful backbone, a beautiful facade to how you truly feel inside, keeping yourself together with each poised stride. Dave takes his position two steps behind, vigilantly in tune with your body language.

There’s a sense of relief that overcomes you the second the door closes and the lock clicks. No longer needing to keep a composed demeanor to prying eyes. No longer allowing the hurt to fester and torment your heart in a stealthily manner.

They flow furiously once they start. Tears streaming down your face. Silent sobs cracking in your throat.

You move about busily, grabbing and tossing, too lost in your own blurry thoughts to even notice Dave standing there watching you.

“What are you doing?” Dave asks, perplexed by the way you’re flinging item after item into your suitcase that lays open on the bed.

“You’re a smart man, Dave. I’m sure you can figure that out.” Grabbing a drawer’s entire contents and dropping it messily into your bag.

“I get that you’re packing. Why are you packing is my concern.” He takes a timid step closer towards the streamline process of you moving about.

“I’m going home. I’ll catch a ride to the airport. Book a new flight when I get there. I can have Jacey pick me up when I land.” A plan you had thoroughly developed before Dave had arrived at the bar.

“Wait— you’re going home? Why? What’s going on?” He steps directly into your path, hindering your progress.

“I don’t know anymore, Dave. I thought this was what we needed. Some time away together. Away from work. Away from our normal lives. Just us reconnecting. But it seems like this whole thing was just wasted effort.” You try to wipe the tears, but they just continue to fall.

“Baby, you’re not making any sense right now.” He knows he should allow you space, but the urge to pull you into him is stronger.

“It’s been months. Months of you working long hours. Months of missed dinners and late nights at the office. Months of being alone at night wondering if you’re okay and when you’ll be home. Months of worrying that something is happening between us and trying to figure out how to fix it.” Each convulsive gasp for air you struggle for fans across Dave’s neck. His arms tightening around you, every word slicing through his chest.

“Fuck—“ He murmurs, his cheek pressed into the side of your head, your tearful confession not anything he expected to hear tonight.

“If you didn’t want to c-come with me— I would have u-understood.” Your shoulders jostle in Dave’s arms, your own arms hanging at your side, still holding a few loose garments in your fists.

“What? No! Baby, I wanted to come. I want to be here— with you.” Dave pulls back, enough so you can see the sureness in his eyes.

“What about her? Wouldn’t you rather be here with— h-her?” Your voice cracks at the thought of Dave with someone who isn’t you.

“Her? What are you talking about?”

“Ashley— She’s the important phone calls you’ve been taking. The work that can’t wait. She’s why you’ve been so distant with me for months.” It feels like glass the minute it leaves your mouth, shattering across your tongue, nearly choking on the tiny little shards.

“Honey, you think I’m having an affair?” A nod is all your weary state can give. An affair— it’s the only thing that makes sense to you right now.

“I heard you talking to her several times since we got here, Dave. The last time being when you told me you had to take an important call and you would meet me at the bar before our dinner reservation.”

You’re not sure what you expect him to do now that he’s been caught. Confess to his actions. Tell you everything from the beginning. Get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. It was a mistake, it will never happen again.

What you don’t expect is to see a single tear fall down his handsome face. To see a look of rich tenderness in his eyes. Warmth in his touch as he wipes away the wet worriment painted over your face.

“Baby— Fuck, I’m so sorry. To say that this trip so far has been stressful would be an understatement. Nothing I had planned for this trip has gone right— even after months and months of preparation. And you’re right, they weren’t work phone calls— not all of them at least. I’m so sorry for making you feel like I didn’t want to be here— I do. I want to tell you everything, but I think it’s best if I show you first.”

“Show me what?” You ask him.

“Come with me so you can see for yourself. And if you still want to go home afterwards, we’ll leave tonight.” Dave’s head tilts, his eyes searching yours hoping to relieve any reservations you still might be internally feeling.

“I look like a blubbering mess right now.” You use what you now realize are a pair of socks to wipe any streaks of makeup smeared on your face.

“No you don’t. I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He says, his lips molding over yours are a sobering reflection of his love for you.

Not much else is said on the trek back down to the lobby, allowing Dave to take you to wherever this mysterious place is.

There’s a nervousness about him, his jitters, while subtle, are loud and obvious. Holding his sweaty palm against yours. His other hand actively fidgeting in his pocket. Head tilt back, then forward, stretching his neck from side to side.

You lean into his shoulder, tucking your free hand under his arm, hoping to ground him a bit. It helps, you feel him relax instantly into your touch. His lips pressing to the side of your head, Thank you.

“Dave, where are we going?” You ask as you walk in an unfamiliar area of the hotel.

“Almost there.” He says, his fingers squeezing in small bursts against your hand.

It’s a long hallway covered in an elaborate wallpaper with rich details of floral patterns and bold hues. It's dimly lit due to the fact that there’s zero windows, the only light is given by the mid century style sconce fixtures lining the walls. Potted plants strategically placed around sculptures and empty velvet chairs.

You’re met with two large wooden doors as you approach the end of the hall, but it’s the woman standing in front of them that has your attention. She’s beautiful, actually she’s stunning. Her smile is so warm and inviting, beaming at you as you and Dave walk closer to where she stands. It’s as if she’s been expecting you, waiting diligently for your arrival.

“Good evening Mr. and Mrs. York. My name is Ashley.”

#Dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedrostories #wildemaven writes

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samkerrworshipper · 5 months

Text

acl’s | sam kerr x reader

this is me trying to work through my devastation but it’s 3am, i’m crying and writing this on my phone. :( it’s a blurb btw

you have to admit the timing of the call should be a little bit of a shock.

it doesn’t cross your mind when your girlfriends contact pops up on your phone, but in hindsight it probably should.

it’s not odd for sam to call you multiple times a day when she’s away on camp, if she has a spare minute here or there, so you are delighted when you see her face pop up on your screen.

you press the green button almost immediately, pulling your phone up to rest at your ear.

“Hiya chook, how’s the weather treating you?”

When you don’t get an immediate response you become a little bit worried, but nothing abnormal.

“Y/n? It’s Emma here.”

It’s when the voice of your fiancés coach hits your ears that you are immediately worried.

“Emma, what can I do for you?”

You’ve talked to Emma hundreds of times, but you can tell from her voice that this is different.

“Look, Sam’s just come off the pitch after a little incident, it’s looking like she’s done her ACL.”

Your gut wrenches, and it takes all of your power to stop your lunch from pouring out across the dining table your sat at.

“What?”

Your head immediately begins to reel, 9 months. That’s the Olympics, Emma’s last season at Chelsea, so many things that Sam has over this year that are now done.

Your mind goes back to Sam’s previous ACL injury, how she’d talked about how it had been the hardest thing mentally and physically for her, that it was almost the end of her career.

“It’s not looking good, we’ll have to wait until she’s had scans to confirm the severity but both her and our doctors are fairly certain it’s her cruciate ligament.”

You take a deep breath, fuck.

“Okay, okay. Is she okay?”

It’s a stupid question, of course she isn’t okay, she’s done her fucking acl, but your concern goes further than her obvious injury.

“She’s in a lot of pain, and she’s pretty torn up. Millie has been keeping her company but all she wants to do is talk to you.”

You nod your head, you know you shouldn’t have to prepare yourself to talk to her but you take your time to take a deep breath, keep yourself strong for her.

“Can you put her on for me please, Emma?”

You hear some bustling around.

“Of course, she wanted me to call you to get the facts straight, but i’ll put her on now.”

You hear a little bit more bustling before complete silence, and that seems to be your queue.

“Sammy, honey?”

You hear a deep, laboured breath crackling from the other side of the phone.

“I’m here.”

Her words are strung out, you know that Sam will be trying her hardest to keep it together, she simply isn’t one to be publicly over emotional, no matter the situation.

“Hi honey.”

You know the best thing right now is to leave her to talk about her injury, you leave ghe ball in her court.

“My whole year is over.”

You hear her voice break, and you know that she’s crying even though you can’t hear any sobs or evidence of tears.

“I’m right here chook, so are all the girls, whatever you need.”

When you hear a sob, it takes everything you have to not start crying with her.

“Need to see you, need you here.”

Sam’s not a needy person, so to hear her asking for something like this is concerning to you.

“How about I turn on facetime chook, will that make you feel a bit better?”

When you hear a little murmur of a ‘yes’ you click the button, waiting for it to connect once she accepts the request.

It’s a matter of seconds before you are met with the visual of Sam, her head resting on Millie's shoulder on a physio bed, tears cascading freely down her olive skin.

“Oh Sammy honey.”

She only begins to cry more, and you are fairly certain once this call ends you’ll be rushing straight to the bathroom to expel all of the bile that’s built up in your throat.

“I’m supposed to be captain, I need to be okay, I need to play the olympics, I couldn’t play the fucking world cup. This could be my last major tournament.”

You want to tell her that she’s being ridiculous, but it would achieve nothing, Sam needs to feel validated in her feelings right now, not like you and the whole world are against her.

“Sam this isn’t your fault, you couldn’t have avoided it, it was just a stupid freak accident, unfortunately it happens in the sport you play.”

Sam looks so broken, Millie’s matching her energy, the normally energetic blonde looking very sullen.

“What if this is it for me?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, it’s a stupid statement but a very real feeling that Sam has.

“Sam, how about I come to Morocco? I’ll catch the next flight out, and i’ll come and be there for you, is that something you want?”

You don’t want to step over her boundaries, but just the look on her face tells you that she needs to be comforted, she needs to cry and whilst her teammates are great, Sam is never going to be that vulnerable in front of them.

“You don’t have to.”

Her own statement contradicts every single feeling you can see inside her.

“I want to.”

Sam’s tears only begin to fall heavier.

“Please, I need you.”

#woso #woso community #sam kerr appreciation post #sam kerr imagine #i love sam kerr #samantha may #sweet sam #sam kerr x reader #sam kerr #screaming crying throwing up #woso imagine #woso imagines #chelsea wfc #chelsea women #acls #fuck acls

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thelastwalkingsoul · 1 year

Text

Curse you, big bang, for stealing all my brain worms! But I do have something new today. I don't think I've ever shared my little headcanon for steddie rings, so here you go :)

(Now on AO3!) ----------- "Eddie, I'm home!"

Steve closes the door with a weary sigh. It'd been a long day at work, but his special errand had almost made up for it. Steve was really just aching for a cuddle with his wonderful boyfriend.

"Eddie?" As he walks into the living room, he sees the man in question slumped on the couch with a book. He looks comfortable (and adorable) in his hoodie and sweatpants, but Steve can tell something is up. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Eddie pouts, eyes meeting Steve's. "I still can't find it."

"Oh, babe," Steve sighs, feeling a spike of guilt. "It'll turn up soon."

"You said that yesterday," Eddie whines.

Steve can't help but chuckle. "Exactly. It's only been a day."

Eddie crosses his arms. Combined with his jutting lip, he's a spitting image of a pouting child. "That's a day too long," he grumbles.

"It'll show up," Steve promises, bending to kiss Eddie's forehead. "Now, what do you want for dinner?"

It only takes a couple more days for the ring to show up. Eddie almost gives Steve a heart attack from the sheer volume of the yell he lets out. He's bouncing on the spot when Steve enters the room, grinning wide and sliding the ring onto his middle finger. Steve's barely prepared as Eddie launches across the room and slams into him, forcing all the air from Steve's lungs. He steadies them both and wraps his arms around his boyfriend. "I'm happy you found it, love."

What Steve didn't anticipate (but absolutely should have) was Eddie spending the rest of the day and night insisting, "Yes, Steve, I did check the couch. I checked the couch at least a million times. How is it there now and not before?"

Steve simply agrees with a smile, secretly happy that Eddie's smart brain hasn't yet connected the dots.

When the day finally comes, everything is going to plan. Steve gets out of work early, runs his special errand, and is home well before Eddie. He wants tonight to be special, but not too much. Just enough effort for his prepared gift. As much as Steve is excited, he's also incredibly nervous that Eddie won't like it. But he pushes that aside to get ready.

Steve picks out a favourite dinner of theirs that Eddie especially likes. He gets to work chopping and seasoning, setting up their small dining table, and lighting the few candles they have. By the time Eddie's due home, their apartment is filled with the aroma of dinner and illuminated by soft candlelight.

Steve's whole body feels like it's vibrating in anticipation as he hears Eddie's keys in the door. He tries his best to relax in his chair, nerves humming.

"I'm home, sweetheart!" Eddie calls, closing the door. Steve can hear him moving closer. "God, that smells amazing, Stevie. Why did you-" He stops, face melting from surprise to a soft smile, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight. "What's all this for?"

Steve can't help the excited grin that slips onto his face. "It's a surprise."

"Oh, is it now?" Eddie drops his bag and comes to sit across from Steve. He looks beautiful, with his big eyes and kissable lips pulled into a smile, hair pulled half up and escaped strands framing his face. Steve wants to kiss him.

So he does. Leans over the table and kisses Eddie softly. "It is. Now eat up."

They talk softly over dinner. Eddie tells Steve about his day, and then Steve tells Eddie about his. It feels domestic and nostalgic, and it's everything Steve never knew he wanted until Eddie. His nerves slowly ebb away as they eat, his love for the gorgeous man in front of him replacing any and all worries he'd had. Steve's not sure why he was so scared in the first place; Eddie will love it.

He waits until they're both finished, until there's a natural lull in the conversation and pushes their dishes aside. Steve places both hands on the table and doesn't start until Eddie puts his hands in Steve's. It gives him confidence, so he speaks.

"Eddie. I wish I could show you to the world. I wish we didn't have to hide. I wish I could hold your hand on the street without fear. And I know we can't, and that's fine. But I want you to be mine and I want to be yours." Steve pauses. He can see the adoration in Eddie's eyes and hopes he's showing his too. "I wanted something for us. Just us. So it can be a promise, or- or a wish. But I got these for us. And I hope you like them."

He hands Eddie the open box before he can psych himself out of it. It's a wooden box and inside sits two rings. One is dark silver with a band of gold running through the middle, and the other is the opposite, gold with a dark silver band. They're a matching set, simple enough to be passed off as just a ring but to anyone who looks closely, they're undeniably a set.

"Steve," Eddie breathes, hand hovering over the rings. He doesn't say anything more, and before he knows it, Steve's rambling. "I wanted to get them engraved with something, but I wasn't sure what, so I haven't gotten that done yet, but we still can, so just let me know and-"

"Steve. I can't even- They're amazing."

Eddie's smiling that gorgeous smile of his. The same one Steve fell in love with several years ago. He watches that smile as he picks up the box, pulling out the mostly dark silver ring and sliding it onto Eddie's ring finger. Eddie does the same to him, and they link their hands together, admiring the sight. Steve's sure they're both a little teary now. He'd spent far too long agonising over the rings, but seeing them sitting together in the candlelight, he knows he made the right decision.

It takes Eddie a few hours before he finally connects the dots.

"Wait. Is that why my ring went missing last week?!"

Steve laughs so hard that he cries.

#I just love the idea of them having matching rings #where Eddie's matches his aesthetic #and Steve's matches his #so it's not super clear #but when they're put together they're so obviously a set #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steveddie #rings #steddie rings #exchanging rings #steddie ring saga #souls steddie ring saga

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ginkgo-phyta · 3 months

Note

Can I request Spencer (later seasons, post prison era) gifting his gf an initial necklace, but the pendant is his initial?

i.e.

"This is nice, Spence, but my name doesn't start with an 'S'."

"Yeah, but mine does, and you're mine."

Feel free to take it as far as you like 😏

A/N: ehehe yes ofc, i love thissss, but also a lil funny bc my name DOES start with an S :P so imma change the dialogue a bit. keepin dis sweet- there is a lil steamy moment for like two sentences however mostly this is fluff, hope you enjoy it, my love!

Fluff, no warnings (?), gender neutral language (im p sure, lemme know if i missed something!), 2.5k words

Spencer’s apartment is flooded with the music of joy; light jazz pours from an old style radio in the living room, your shared laughter tumbles into the rest of the place from the small kitchen, the sound of knives and forks scraping decorated ceramic plates signals the end of a well-enjoyed meal.

It was date-night for the two of you, a rare occurrence as of late due to Spencer’s teaching commitment. Initially, you were excited, thinking you would be getting more of him to yourself. You kept that thought to yourself, though, seeing how upset he initially was at not being able to help his team in the way he wanted to. That exhilaration was shut down particularly quickly as Spencer had begun bringing his work home with him. When he was working only as a profiler, sure he’d be away from you most of the time, but when he came home he’d spend all of his time present and in the moment. Now, at times, having him home almost felt worse than when he’d be away.

In the moment, however, everything was perfect. This is how you wished every night could be. The two of you bumping shoulders as you both prepare dinner; glasses of wine clinking with a cheers; old love songs serenading your flushed ears as Spencer pulls you into his arms to delicately waltz around the kitchen; his balmy eyes peering down into yours, speaking words of love and comfort. This serene feeling of domesticity was addicting. Life had been a whirlwind the past year, with it only being about six months since Spencer came home from prison. Things were jarringly different at first, both of your lives changing the way being wrongfully imprisoned changed Spencer, but you didn’t care. You could fight every battle life threw your way as long as your beautiful boy was by your side. Some days were more difficult than others, when Spencer would be reminded of the atrocities he witnessed in jail or what he had to do to survive. He’d isolate himself, snap at you, or push you away; but this evening was a good night- it almost felt like you had your old lover back.

“Dinner was delicious, angel.” Spencer beamed at you from the other side of his compact dining table, using his cloth napkin to wipe at the corners of his lips.

“Well,” you chuckled, pushing out of your seat to collect both of your plates, “you helped me, that’s probably why.”

Spencer quickly followed your movements, whisking the dishes out of your hands with a sweet kiss pressed to your cheek before taking them to the sink. “It was all you, beautiful.” he had whispered against your skin while leaving your side.

You silently shook your head, picking up your wine and water glasses to be washed. “Should I dry?” you questioned as he turned on the faucet, pulling a tea towel from the cabinet below you.

Spencer shook his head, “It’s okay, they can air dry.” he spoke with a little shrug.

“Okay!” you responded bright-eyed, throwing the towel down onto the counter next to you, a bit too excited at the prospect of not doing anything. Your reaction peeled an infectious laugh from Spencer's beautifully cerise lips, his nose scrunching involuntarily. You could stand there and just watch him exist for the rest of eternity.

And you did just that for a minute, took in the sight of him humming along to the jazz standard wafting in from the other room, engrossed in scrubbing the food stuck to the pans you cooked in. His jawline and upper-lip were shadowed in scruff, trailing down the sides of his Adam’s apple. His hair was long now, wavy and pushed back from his face, exposing his strong forehead and giving you unrestricted access to gaze into his gentle cinnamon eyes. The years passing changed his appearance in so many ways, and you loved every bit of it. Your eyes trailed down to graze over the top of his chest, exposed by the first few buttons of his deep cerulean shirt undone; they moved over the slopes of his broad shoulders, and down to his arms working steadfast to clean up the remnants of your meal. It didn’t escape Spencer how you were drinking him in without a care in the world, paying no mind to his elbow occasionally bumping into your torso.

“You having fun there?” he teased with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, eyes never leaving the task at hand. His words spurred you forward.

You simply hummed in response as you moved to stand behind him, your front pressing firmly into his back. Spencer’s eyebrow arched questioningly, but he kept his mouth shut, simply letting you do as you pleased. Your head peeked over one side of his arm, hands sliding down until they reached the cuff of his sleeve. Deftly, you began folding them up, “Just helpin you,” you mumbled as a throwaway explanation, moving to his other side to do the same. Fingernails scratched at his newly exposed forearms, your muffled giggle turning Spencer’s smirk into a wide grin. “Done!” you announced, wrapping your arms around his abdomen before nuzzling your face into his broad back. Over the barrier of fabric, the running water, and the sound of his scrubbing Spencer barely heard you ask, “Didn’t I help so much?”

His chuckle sent vibrations into your cheek, “Yes, honey, you were a big help. Thank you.” Content, you pushed your face further into his shirt.

The two of you stood like that for a few more minutes, Spencer trying his best not to move too much in order to keep you comfortable. You haven’t back-hugged him like this since before he was framed, and he didn’t realize how much he missed it until this moment. He washed the dishes a bit slower than normal, reveling in the heart-warming scene. Soon, however, he was done.

As soon as he turned off the water, you were off him, moving to pick up the once-forgotten tea towel and face him, leaning against the edge of the sink. “Thank you for your service, soldier.” you unseriously saluted before taking each of his dripping hands in his and patting them dry.

A titter broke through his smile as Spencer reverently gazed down at you, the way your eyes twinkled under the soft-yellow lights of his old kitchen, your beautiful hands turning his own over to attack any remaining droplets of water, your eyebrows twitching reflexively here and there in focus. The first time he laid eyes on you all those years ago he was shot in the heart by Cupid’s arrow, and it has stayed there, firm in place, ever since.

As soon as you were done, Spencer softly cupped your face in his palms, your fingers wrapping around his wrists as he tilted your head up to look at him. He leaned down, pushing a passionate, yet gentle kiss onto your mouth. Before you could deepen it, he pulled away just enough to mumble, “I have something for you.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, and you looked up at him in confusion as he pressed one more peck to your lips before moving into the other room, your hands chasing after him. Once his words processed in your brain you perked up, excitedly following behind him.

“You got me a gift?” You question, reaching where Spencer stood at the side table by the front door, right in front of the intricate, gold trimmed mirror you hung up just last week. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched Spencer pick up the weekly newspaper, “Uh, you got me the…local paper?”

With a roll of his eyes, Spencer wordlessly pulled you to him by the waist, mimicking your earlier actions by pressing his front into your back. You stumbled a bit, catching yourself by grabbing onto the forearm wrapped around your torso, holding you up, Spencer’s fingers digging into your waist. You peer at him curiously through the mirror before he whispers in your ear.

“Look,” he motions down with his chin, and you do as you’re told. Spencer moves the haphazardly folded newspaper to the side, revealing a glimmering deep emerald velvet box. From the size of it, you could tell it was some jewelry other than a ring. You gasped in shock, not even having seen its contents. “Spencer…” your voice was meek and unbelieving.

He watched you through the mirror, his cheek pressed against your temple as he opened the box before you. Your alluring eyes widened to their limits, hands flying up to cover your mouth. Your gaze whizzed to meet your lover in the reflection, “You got me a necklace??” your words dripped with incredulity. Spencer had gifted you generously in the past- rare books, handmade accessories, clothing you had your eye on, tickets to see your favorite artists live- but never before had he bought you jewelry. You never minded, content with wanting the first piece he gives you to be an engagement ring. That being said, this surprise moved you immensely. You took in the gorgeous necklace shining proudly up at you. A dainty chain in the metal you wore the most, in the middle sat a heart-shaped locket, no bigger than the tip of your pinky-finger. Before you could speak again, Spencer shifted to open the locket for you, revealing two pictures. One was older, taken at JJ’s wedding; Penelope had been going around taking photos of everyone and as soon as she neared the two of you, Spencer scooped you up into his arms as if you were the bride. The moment frozen in time showed you in the midst of a bellowing laugh, clutching to Spencer’s shoulders in shock, with your boyfriend looking upon you as if you were an angel incarnate, an equally wide smile plastered across his face. The second photo was more recent; you had invited the whole team out to a picnic brunch shortly after Spencer was released and this time Emily was the one taking candid photos. The two of you were cozying up at the edge of the yellow gingham blanket, Spencer's arms wrapped tightly around your figure rested between his legs. In the photo, his hand was cupping your jaw, tilting your face up to bring your lips close to his, the snapshot proudly showcasing his grinning mouth just centimeters from your own with the sunlight stretching out in the background.

“Oh, Spencer,” you were at a loss of words, your fingers hesitantly tracing the silhouette of the pendant, “It’s so beautiful, my favorite pictures…” you murmured.

Spencer hummed and nodded in response, setting the box down to take the necklace out of its confines. He straightened behind you, stretching the necklace out in front of your face, “Let me put it on you, baby.” he whispered, mouth barely moving.

You happily obliged as he brought the chain closer to your neck, moving your hair to one side to better allow him to clasp it behind you. Spencer watched you the whole time through the mirror while your eyes were fixated on the necklace. The cold metal of the locket hitting your warm skin caused a minuscule gasp to part your plump lips, but Spencer noticed it all. The way your chest rose and fell faster, chasing after your quickened heart; the way you drew your bottom lip in between your teeth; your uncertain hands grasping at his trouser legs behind you. Once the chain was secured, the locket resting perfectly in the dip of your collar bones, Spencer placed soft, warm kisses to the exposed skin of your shoulders and neck, holding eye contact with you with each; even as he moved your hair to dutifully pepper the other side. You sighed as his arms returned to engulf your waist, tighter than before, your hands moved to rest on top of his. He noticed your eyelids flutter close just for a moment, taking him in, before they opened again and your gaze shifted back down to the reflection of the necklace. Your eyes glinted with uncertainty upon noticing the engraving on the locket you hadn’t fully processed earlier.

“‘S’...” you spoke, reading the letter dangling from your neck. You kept your inflection steady, trying to make it seem like you knew exactly what it stood for, but Spencer knew you better than that. Before you could make any assumptions, he spoke up.

“For ‘Spencer’.” he stated matter-of-factly, his face moving up from your shoulder to rest against your temple again.

You smiled at him, more confused than before, “But aren’t you supposed to put my initials on it. You know, cuz it’s my necklace?”

“No,” he murmured sternly against your hair. Spencer’s left hand slipped down to grab onto your right hip, his right hand traveling up your sternum to thumb over the locket before splaying out to rest just below your throat, the heart pendant resting on the back of his hand.

Another, louder gasp sucked through your lips as Spencer tugged you closer to him, your back arched a bit as it stretched, bum pushing into his groin.

“I put my initial,” he started again, heading dipping down to mouth against the shell of your ear, his eyes looking at you in the mirror through his cocoa lashes had you biting your lip, “Because you’re mine. And now everyone will know it.”

Suddenly, you whipped around in Spencer’s arms, throwing your own over and around his neck, hugging his body close to yours. He stumbled back a bit in shock, grabbing onto your lower back to steady himself before a laugh shook through his shoulders.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you enthusiastically repeated, pressing kisses along his stubbled jawline with every word. “I love it so much, Spencer.” you pulled back all the way to stare up at him, gaze filled with genuinity. One of your hands remained on the back of his neck, the other coming down to fiddle with the locket, “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

His previously mischievous demeanor melted off his back as Spencer drank in how you dripped sweetness. “I’m so happy to hear you say that, honey.” His hands rubbed up and down your back. “I know things have been…complicated lately. I’ve been distant and cold, which I want to apologize for, but you’ve been beside me through it all. You’re my rock, and I just wanted to show you a bit of my gratitude.”

You shook your head as you pushed up onto your tippy-toes to kiss him again, the hand on your locket moving to lightly scratch at the side of his neck.

“I’m all yours,” you muttered against his lips, tilting your head to the other side to slot yours upon them again. You pulled away after a couple seconds, “You don’t have to thank me, my love. I know you would do the same for me.” You pressed a few more kisses to Spencer’s supple lips before pulling back again, causing him to huff. “Are you mine?” you whisper.

Innocent doe-eyes coupled with a small pout had a quiet groan dragging from Spencer’s throat. He brought a hand up to trace your bottom lip with his thumb before tangling his fingers in your hair,

“I’m yours, baby.” he nodded. “Only yours.” With that, he pulled you back in for a sensual kiss.

A/N: omg sorry if this sucks im so sleepy right nowwwww it took so long to write this for some reason i cant process words properly but i wanted to finish this! i loved writing this piece, and i hope y'all like reading it. ANON! how'd i do?

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction

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nagycyra · 8 days

Text

Little wife

Warning: Minors do not participate in the story, size difference, NSFW content. Summary: Miguel didn't always come every night, many times you were asleep or he was on important missions, but the nights where your times coincide are used in many ways.

Routines are almost always the same, at least for some nights, it wasn't boring, having some hobbies and some chores inside the home were enough to keep you distracted. Cooking had become a good way to waste time and that night it was exactly what you wanted, to waste time.

You had been being particularly active on a daily basis, it's almost a week since you last saw Miguel, you know he's fine, he keeps answering your messages without any problem, assuring you that he will finally be able to come home. There's the reason why you are so restless cooking, making a small dessert for both of you and a full dinner, making sure to make a bigger portion in case your husband was hungry.

You didn't know the time Miguel would return, but you didn't want to be taken by surprise, so focused were you that you couldn't even hear the peculiar sound caused by the doorway.

Miguel could easily observe from the dining room the way you moved swiftly through the kitchen, seasoning the food, washing the dishes and even cleaning a little of the remaining stains, the tenderness that invaded his heart was enough to make him smile as the mask that covered his face disappeared.

With stealthy steps he approached your small body, you could only realize his presence when you were cornered by him.

You let out a small shriek of surprise as you startled to feel the imposing figure of your husband behind you.

-Miguel, God, don't scare me like that- you complained with a slight blush on your cheeks as you turned around to face your husband.

But he didn't let you, he held your hips firmly as he glued his body to yours, making you feel his strong torso against your back as he leaned in and left soft kisses down the side of your neck, you felt his fangs brushing so softly against your skin, causing you to feel slight tingles that you could barely stand.

-Stop it, you're tickling me - you say between little giggles as Miguel continues to gently kiss your soft skin, caressing with his soft fingers patterns on your hip. He watched the way you squirmed under his touch, his attentions, so pretty, so cute in his eyes. He could barely contain the desire that consumed him like an intense flame, heating his whole body to a simmer.

-I missed you - he murmured softly near your ear, making a shiver run down your back while your cheeks were adorned with a nice red color, you could feel how one of Miguel's hands slowly went up until it reached one of your sides, inserting his hand between the fabric of your apron until it reached the edge of your sweater.

-Should I? - Miguel asked with a smug smile as he saw the nervousness begin to invade your body, the way you shivered when his hand finally touched the softness of your skin.

-Miguel…

He hummed with satisfaction as he watched you crumble under his caresses, it seemed he wasn't the only one affected by the remoteness.

Miguel arched an eyebrow as he noticed you weren't wearing a bra, his hand moved up to your left breast, squeezing it with some gentleness as he elicited soft gasps from you.

-So needy - he cooed as he placed kisses on the side of your neck, pinching your nipple until you gently arched your back, provocatively rubbing your ass against Miguel's bulge.

He smiles contentedly at your actions, knowing perfectly well what you both need, so desperate for each other's touch, you behaving so accessible to his attentions while he does nothing but tease you to collapse in his arms, always doing what he likes best, showing you off so beautifully for him, so loved and desired, just for him.

You enjoy your husband's touch, he knows how to provoke your body, he knows perfectly the most sensitive spots and how to access in order to be more stimulating in the best way.

Miguel took his hand out of your clothes, he was tired of being so patient, with an amazing speed, he turned you around just to lift you on his shoulder as if you were a sack of potatoes.

-Miguel, the food - you squealed with some surprise as an amused smile tugged at your lips - It's not at all pleasant to be fucked by you while a possible fire occurs in my kitchen.

Your words were replaced with a small scream as you felt Miguel slap your ass, causing your cheeks to flush as he walked with you straight to the bedroom.

-You shouldn't worry about that now- Miguel replied and then opened the door with his free hand. Laughter escaped your lips as you saw how desperate he was for you, as if you were his biggest vice.

-O'Hara, are you that needy? - you asked with a sly smile as you felt Miguel rush into the room and set you down on the bed.

You looked up to see him, your heart skipped a beat as you saw the predatory glow in Miguel's eyes, a red as intense as a ruby, a desire that was almost palpable, impossible to ignore, oh, you know perfectly well that your husband needs to hear your teasing the least, but, provoking him is often the best thing to do.

-Baby, I love to hear your voice - Miguel spoke in a low tone, almost like a murmur, his hand gently held your chin so you wouldn't look away from him - but right now I'd rather you use that pretty little mouth on something else.

Your cheeks blushed at those words, unconsciously you looked again at the bulge protruding between Miguel's legs, he didn't try to stop you, he knows perfectly well the way your little head works, the way to make a few simple words confuse your teasing into an undeniable desire.

You gently bit your lower lip as you felt Miguel begin to undo your clothes, in a torturously slow way, undoing the knot of your apron only to throw it somewhere in the room, your body slowly warming up, almost making the idea of waiting desperate.

Without hesitation, you took off your sweater, leaving it on while Miguel removed your shorts along with your panties, leaving you totally exposed before him. You'd swear that for a moment you heard him grunt, as if just seeing you in that state was enough to wreak havoc on his entire body.

Miguel placed his hands on your knees, spreading your legs as you lay back and watched your husband's hungry gaze, your heart beating fast as you felt Miguel's breath between your thighs, he had bent down so that he could place soft kisses on your thighs, slowly moving up until he reached your sensitive pussy, the wetness of your arousal was evident, something that made Miguel smile, subtly showing his fangs as he moved his hand up to caress your sensitive clitoris with his thumb, making circling motions over your bundle of nerves.

Your soft moans flooded the silence of the room, you sounded so beautiful, just for him.

-Miguel, stop playing- you moaned, causing your husband to let out a small laugh at your protests.

Miguel slid two fingers through your wet walls, sucking on your sensitive clit, curving his fingers to touch that sweet spot that always made you go wild.

You rolled your eyes as you felt your body start to shudder from the pleasure, you were so close to climax, you felt the tension in your belly like a knot that was about to loosen, until Miguel stopped abruptly, pulling away a little as he smiled at the sight of that cute pout on your lips.

You could only hear the sound of his suit disappearing, his towering figure over your body, one of his hands lining his hard length against your wet entrance, you had no time to reproach, feeling the stretching of your walls as his thick cock plunged deep inside you. Your warmth squeezed his cock deliciously, you felt so full, so sensitive, cumming on his cock as you moaned, it was the only push you needed for the tension in your belly to release in a delicious orgasm.

Your mind was in a daze, the pleasure wreaked the havoc your body needs after all those days without seeing him. Your walls squeezed Miguel's cock wonderfully, having little spasms as your orgasm lengthened as you felt Miguel thrust, his tip lightly hitting your cervix until you clutched the sheets under your hands. Gently arching your back as Miguel leaned in and deposited soft kisses on your neck, feeling the tremors of your body.

-Hold on to me- he cooed softly near your ear as he gently took your hands to guide them to his strong shoulders.

You clung to him as you felt him start to pump slowly, letting your insides adjust to his size, it was amazing how it had been close to a week and you were already so tight.

Miguel was cooing soft words to you, telling you how well you were taking it, how tight you are for him, what a beautiful wife you are. Your mind was boggled at Miguel's words, feeling the rhythm of his thrusts increase until he made your body yield completely to Miguel.

His hard cock stretched your walls, touching your sensitive spots, pounding again and again as you clawed at his shoulders, the constant pounding of the headboard making your moans accompany as Miguel let out a few curses as he felt you squeeze him.

-That's it baby, you do it so well, you feel so, so good.

His voice was deep, full of lust, playing with your mind again as you arched your back again and moaned his name, the tension in your belly increased with each thrust from Miguel, your moans became higher pitched as you closed your eyes.

Your walls squeezed Miguel's cock, your orgasm hit you hard, making you moan, but this time your moans were silenced with a passionate kiss from Miguel, your tongues danced in a messy competition, but you were so drunk with pleasure that Miguel was able to dominate with total ease. Miguel's thrusts became increasingly erratic until you felt your insides being filled with Miguel's warm semen.

Both of your breathing had become shallow, your cheeks flushed, unable to avoid the wet mess between your thighs. Miguel let out a small sigh as he pulled out of you and then noticed how his cum overflowed from your entrance, causing such an erotic scene for him.

-That, that was good- you said between little gasps, naively you thought that was enough for Miguel, but your husband wasn't satisfied with just that.

You startled as you felt Miguel grab your hips to turn you around and make your body lie face down, you tried to protest, but feeling his hard cock sinking mercilessly inside you made you moan, your body was so sensitive that your babbling sounded like pleasurable moans, luckily for your dazed condition, Miguel started to move slower, but that only made your walls squeeze him desirously, as if they wanted to milk him to the last drop.

Your hands clenched the sheets, accepting everything he gave you, your body yielding to pleasure until at some point in the night, you couldn't keep up, falling into a deep sleep.

The next morning, you awoke with heaviness, your body was sore, not only because of the hickeys Miguel had left all over your body, especially your thighs and back, but also because you couldn't remember how many times you had climaxed.

Miguel's warmth made you feel comforted, snuggling against his chest while he gently stroked your hair.

-Good morning amor- he greeted with a smile on his lips, how could he not be happy after all you had done?

Your mind wandered between those memories, causing the heat in your cheeks to rise, you didn't want to say anything strange in the morning, your throat was a little sore after moaning all night, but, there was something you couldn't help thinking.

-So - your words were soft, it was a little awkward but you just couldn't get it out of your head - did you turn off the stove?

Miguel let out a laugh when he heard your question, you had just seen each other after several days, you were mercilessly claimed by him, was that all you cared about?

-Yes, turned off, por Dios - Miguel answered with a smile as he hugged you tighter, clinging to the warmth of your body.

At this rate in the fanfics I'm going to have to write too much.

I hope it is well written

#miguel o'hara #miguel 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel x fem!reader

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