#and when i told them they smiled so big and said 'it suits you SO much. i really love it the mint green is such a look'

[qveerthe0ry]

Your Ride, Best Trip

Summary: You sleep with your boyfriend Marcus for the first time Word Count: 9,001 Pairing: Marcus Pike x f! afab! reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, first time, vaginal fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), unprotected PIV, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, so much fluff, so much kissing Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar as ALWAYS. Love you homies I'm kissing u both <3 A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time

Marcus Pike is perfect. 

He’s your dream man. 

He’s sweet. He brings you flowers just because, and he’s remembered your go-to coffee order, and he never goes to bed without texting you goodnight.

He’s effortlessly kind. He offers to walk your dog for you when you aren’t feeling well enough to get out of bed, and he always does the dishes when you cook for him, and he makes sure his bathroom is stocked with all the personal products you use at your own place. 

He’s fucking handsome. His smile is straight and pearly white, and his big brown eyes warm you up, and the way his broad shoulders fill out those suits he wears to work never fails to make you weak in the knees. 

He’s so smart, and he’s so funny, and he’s all yours… finally. 

See, when he hadn’t so much as kissed you by your third date, you wigged out a bit. 

How could you not? He’d been so thoughtful and caring and all you wanted was to feel those pillowy, soft lips against your own. 

So you asked him what was up, and he told you.

Divorced. Broken engagement. A whole year of therapy to pinpoint what went wrong, what he could change, and how he could do better, how he could feel better. And then, he said, he found you— like fate— when he wasn’t even looking, when he least expected it. 

You had no problem taking it slow. You’re still convinced you’d wait forever for him, as perfect as he is.

After too many little dates to count, he told you he wanted to be your boyfriend, if you’d have him.

You told him you’d love for him to be your boyfriend, of course. You’d be crazy not too. 

And then he finally kissed you.

It was slow and hesitant, but it still made your heart race, made your stomach do flips. He cut it off before it could become anything more than chaste, and left your front door with a sheepish goodnight. 

You’ve kissed a lot since then. You never really enjoyed kissing that much, before. It always just seemed like a means to and end, a formality before moving on to other things. 

But now it’s one of your favorite ways to pass the time with him. Waiting for an Uber to take you downtown, finally getting to his place on Friday after a long work week, cuddling in bed together with an old movie playing.

You haven’t made out with anyone this much since high school. And you enjoy it, you do, but Jesus Christ, he’s been your boyfriend for three weeks now and you need him. 

It doesn’t help that he touches you like you’re the last person on earth. His hands are so big and they’re gentle and electric when they find the bit of skin just under the hem of your shirt. 

You think it’s going to happen, this time. Friday night takeout has long been abandoned in the living room. You’re in his bed, in his clothes, and his pinky is teasing at the waistband of his sweats that you’re wearing. 

His tongue in your mouth is making you dizzy, and there’s no more blood in your brain with all of it rushing between your legs. You whimper, and you arch against him, and you want him so bad but you can’t say it. You’d feel bad, making him rush when he’s made it clear he wants to take things slow. 

When his lips leave yours, you open your eyes, and find his pupils obstructing all the deep, dark brown you adore. 

You have to squeeze your thighs together for a miniscule amount of relief. He notices. Of course he does. Damn that Quantico training. 

“Sweetheart—”

His eyes flicker down to your lips. You’re sure they look obscene, red and slick from nearly an hour of him sucking and nibbling on them. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

You don’t know why you say it, but you are sorry. You feel so bad for wanting him like this, desperate and aching in his bed, over eager. 

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head and gives you a reluctant smile, a smile that tells you you’re going to fall asleep extremely sexually frustrated. 

But it’s fine. He’s so worth it. 

You give him a soft smile back, and lean in to peck his lips. But he pulls away with his brow furrowed. 

“What do you want?” 

His voice is gentle when he asks. So is his hand on your back, under his shirt you’ve claimed. But it doesn’t stop that fight or flight response from kicking in. 

“Nothing! Nothing, Marcus, I’m okay— I’m great. Just wanna cuddle.” 

But the creases in his forehead don’t smooth out, and his hand ceases the soothing circles across your spine. 

“You’re lying.” 

You sigh and close your eyes. 

“I’m not lying, I’m just— I don’t want to push you to move too fast.” 

You expect him to be angry. But when you open your eyes again, his own have taken on that puppy-like quality you usually love. Right now, it just makes you feel guilty. 

“I’ve been lying, too,” Marcus whispers. 

It’s your turn to scrunch your face up. Your blood runs cold, waiting for him to elaborate. A million scenarios run through your head at lighting speed— all worse and worse until your breathing picks up and you beg him with your eyes to just get on with it—

“I have a small dick.” 

His face is so flushed. He can’t meet your gaze.

He’s staring at the bedsheets between you, and you’re both just silent for a long, awkward moment. 

“I mean— the divorce and all that, it’s all true. And I did want to keep from moving too fast. But— the last few weeks I guess I’ve just been… stalling?” 

He finally looks up from the threads to gauge your reaction. 

“Marcus…”

“I get it, okay? If you wanna go. I know I lied, and you didn’t sign up for—“

“Marcus.”

You watch his shoulders raise and his mouth snap shut, and he looks terrified.

“I don’t want to leave. You didn’t lie. It’s just— you really think that would bother me?” 

He lets out a big breath, and the tension in his body eases up a little. 

“I don’t know. Most people were… bothered. I guess,” he shrugs. 

You cradle his jaw in your hand, let the day-old stubble tickle the pad of your thumb as you think about how to best navigate this conversation. 

Because saying ‘I don’t care’ seems too dismissive. But you don’t. You couldn’t possibly care less about what’s in his pants, when everything else about him has made you fall so, so deep already. But you don’t want to make it sound like it’s something you have to even bargain with, like the pros outweigh the cons, like it even is a con. Because it’s not. 

“I’m not bothered,” you finally tell him. 

He still doesn’t meet your eyes, in fact, he rolls his. 

“You don’t have to lie to me. It’s okay, I’ve heard it all. I know I’ve lead you on—”

“Jesus,” you cut him off, “what did— who made you feel this way?” 

He finally looks at you. His eyes are wide and he looks vulnerable and hesitant. You swipe away some hair that’s fallen flat across his scrunched forehead. 

“Everyone?” 

You sigh his name, and you’re tentative when you lean forward to kiss him, softly, when he lets you. 

He looks less terrified when you pull back. You try to smile, but this whole interaction has left such a bad taste in your mouth that it feels more like a grimace when your lips turn up. 

“That’s— Fucking awful, to be frank. Pardon my French.”

He chuckles, but his gaze falls away from your face again. His sheets are not that interesting to look at. 

“Really, Marcus. I mean— maybe if someone’s just looking for a hookup, then I get it. You want something specific, whatever. But why would you ever think you were leading me on?

All you’ve done is be sweet to me, and shown interest in me, and taken care of me. Unless you’re like, secretly an ax murderer, or committing some kind of major tax fraud, you haven’t led me on at all.”

He’s still not looking at you. Why won’t he look at you, and believe you? 

“I don’t want to sound dismissive. I understand you’re insecure about it. I’m insecure about some things too. I don’t want to invalidate that. But I need you to know that the last thing I care about is how big your dick is.” 

There. He’s looking at you. He looks a little mortified, but he’s finally meeting your gaze. 

“Really?”

You scoff. 

“Really really.”

A reluctant smile tugs on the corner of his pretty mouth. 

“Why?”

“Because— now, don’t go getting a big head about this— you’re perfect. Like, everything about you. You’re sweet and you make me laugh and you’re gorgeous.”

His face flushes, but he lets you continue.

“And I’m in this, with you. I want this to go somewhere. And I think we’re super compatible.”

“Me too,” he whispers.

“Good, so… we’re on the same page then.”

You watch him lick his lips, and his hand that’s been loosely draped over your waist finally starts back up, drawing little circles across the base of your spine. 

“And… There’s other reasons,” you mumble, voice low with a hint of mischief.

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah… For one, your hands.”

“My hands?”

He emphasizes his question with a squeeze of your hip, and you giggle at the way it tickles, and also with a bit of embarrassment. 

“Yeah… They’re uh… big. I look at them a lot. Honestly surprised you haven’t noticed.”

He huffs, lets his big hand travel further up the shirt on your back. 

“Your nails are always trimmed, and— your fingers are long and thick. I’ve thought about them a lot.”

He breathes your name, and now you realize you’re the one avoiding eye contact. When you look back, his pupils are all blown out again, and it spurs you on.

“And I love to give head.”

“Jesus.”

“And the bigger it is, the quicker I get tired. I could stay down there all night, if my jaw didn’t get sore.” 

“Sweetheart—”

“Really, it’s one of my favorite things, making someone fall apart under my mouth. But I hate gagging and choking my way through it. It’s tedious.”

He says your name again, this time with a warning tone. 

You bite your lip to keep anything from tumbling from your mouth unwarranted. 

“You’re not lying.”

His eyes dart back and forth across your face, and you shake your head in lieu of opening your mouth again. 

“Fuck.”

It’s the first time Marcus has cursed in front of you. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and your clit throbs. 

“I’ve thought about you so much. Your lips, you have to know, right? How plump and full they are… I think about them at night, when I’m touching myself.” 

That’s convincing enough, apparently. Before you can embarrass yourself any further with your confessions, he surges forward to press those plush lips against yours and groans into your mouth. 

His hand flattens against your back and pulls, manhandling you closer to him. Your fingers find his silky hair and tangle in the strands, holding on for dear life at this shift between the two of you. 

You can’t muster up an ounce of shame. Finally, you have Marcus where you want him, pressed against you. You hike a leg over one of his, getting it between your thighs for even the smallest amount of friction. 

You feel him gasp, chest inflating to press even closer against yours. It’s a rush, finally getting this after waiting so long. 

Your hands scramble to get under his white t-shirt. His skin is hot, even against your sweaty palms. There’s so much to feel, the slight swell of his stomach, and the muscle of his flank, the soft but firm pecs. 

You whine when he pulls away from your lips. He shushes you gently, and you open your eyes to watch his slick lips and his hooded eyes and flushed face disappear briefly, just quick enough to shed his shirt. 

Smooth, is the first thing that comes to mind. His tan skin has no hair above his belly button, just the errant freckle here and there. His nipples are peaked, and you reach out to press your thumb against one before your mind catches up to the action, before you realize you’re gawking. 

But when your hand stutters against his skin and you look up at him, he’s smirking, amused and turned on. You falter a bit, mouth open while you search for something to say, some sort of excuse as to why you’re devouring him like you’re starved. 

He saves you though, with his low, grumbled voice. 

“I think about you, too. All the time.” 

You dig your nails into his soft skin at his admission, scraping against his chest. 

“You know that? You think I haven’t had you a million different ways in my head?” 

Your heart stops beating, and you stop breathing, and the heat between your legs only gets heavier and wetter. 

“You want me to show you, sweetheart?”

Your heartbeat comes back as a rush in your ears, and you squeeze the meat of his pec as you nod. 

He kisses you again, licks at your lips until you suck his tongue into your mouth, and now it’s just filthy. No more pretense, it’s been months of pretense, and neither of you have any more patience. 

His fingers seek out your own nipple, a tight bud protruding through cloth, and he rolls it between his fingers gently over the material of his shirt. 

“You come over and wear my clothes like this, and you think you don’t drive me crazy?” 

The words are grumbled into your mouth, against your cheek, then your jaw and your neck as he seeks out more of you to kiss. 

“I don’t wash them when you leave. I wear them and I smell you all day and it makes me feel insane.”

You mewl at his admission. Everything he says now is so fucking raw, now that you’ve broken down his walls. He shushes you again, grabs the hem of his shirt to help you pull it over your head. 

He curses when he sees you. It’s the first time. You’ve both been toeing this line of modesty, and maybe you’d be more nervous if you weren’t careening toward the pleasure he’s promised you. 

He coaxes you to lie on your back beside him, and his mouth works a slow trail down the side of your neck, nipping and suckling until he finally gets your nipple in his mouth. You arch into it, encouraging him with a hand tangled in his thick hair. You feel his groan reverberating around your rib cage when you scrape your nails back and forth across his scalp. You need him, like nothing you’ve ever craved before. 

“Marcus—”

“I know, I know.”

His syrupy voice isn’t as soothing as his lips, though, when he cranes his neck back up to kiss you again. He nips there, a sneaky distraction from the way his fingers trail down to circle your navel, and then even farther, teasing the hem of his sweatpants you’re wearing. His featherlight touch makes you jolt when it finally registers, your stomach jumping under his fingers. 

“Can I?”

You’re nodding against his lips, into the kiss, and then whining when his hand breaches the waistband. Those thick, long fingers flutter across your mound. Your breath catches on every wiggle. But when his fingers splay out, half on one side of your slit and half on the other, teasing your lips, you exhale hard and press up into his touch. 

“Oh, are you that sensitive?”

His voice is half-teasing, half-shocked, as he mumbles into the tingling skin of your neck. 

“It’s just you.” 

And it’s true. There’s no ego-stroking here. You’ve waited too long to get this and now you’re fiending, any touch is a relief. 

And he’s huffing into that skin under your ear, like you’re playing it up too much, but he bites down on the skin anyway and groans. 

“So sweet, huh?”

You make a disgruntled noise but there’s not enough blood in your brain to get your point across. Instead, you wrap your hand around his meaty forearm and force his fingers lower, where you know your underwear is a soaking, sticky mess. 

He curses and pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. You’re certain you know what he sees, blown out pupils and sweat-slick forehead and bitten, shiny lips. 

“That’s all for me?” 

There’s a sly smile tugging at one side of his mouth, just barely there, but you see it in the way one dimple grows more than the other. You nod in answer, scrape your nails up the hair on his arm and watch him shudder.

But he retreats from between your legs, and chuckles when you squeeze his forearm tighter in protest. The sound makes you shiver, all low and gruff and teasing. But he softens the blow with another one of his kisses, heated and sloppy and needy. His hands, always so gentle and careful and big, find the creases between your hips and thighs. It makes you arch up into the touch and whimper again, and you wonder briefly if you’ll ever not be desperate for him again. 

He watches your face twist up when he pulls away from you, watches the way your breasts move with every heave of your lungs. His dark eyes travel lower, where his thumbs sear circles into your hips, and his tongue swipes across his lower lip. 

“Can I take these off, sweetheart?” 

The tenderness in his voice fills you with a completely different warmth, white hot flames simmering into a blaze of feelings you aren’t sure you’ve ever truly experienced before. You let it consume you. 

“Yes, please.”

He hums a satisfied little noise as his fingers hook under the waistband. He takes his time, making sure to catch your underwear as well. It’s a sight, his huge hands working your only remaining cover down, down, until you’re bare to him and he’s gently cradling each of your calves to fully remove the last of your clothes. 

Those hands work their way back up, attentive, memorizing the valleys and peaks of your flesh, the nuances of your skin, the way it bends over your joints. Before you know it, he’s propped himself up beside you once again, one arm supporting his weight so his other hand can work its way between your thighs. 

You drag your eyes away from his fingers to look at him, only to find him focused on your face. 

It’s a few long moments before either of you move or speak or breathe. It’s you who breaks the spell, only because you know you’re at the very edge of control. 

“You sure you’re ready?”

You reach up to cradle his neck in your hand. It’s hot to the touch, and so are his ears, the tips of them burning a cute pink where your thumb grazes them. His eyes get softer and crinkle even more around the edges.

“I’m positive… can’t believe I psyched myself out for so long.”

He huffs and shakes his head at himself. You’re ready to kiss that apprehension away again, but his hand on your thigh pulls, as gentle as everything else he’s done, to spread yourself open for him. 

The cool air makes your breath catch in your throat. Or maybe it’s the anticipation. So close to what you’ve thought about every single night for weeks. Months– since the day you first met, if you’re being honest. 

He keeps his eyes on you, and you hold his gaze even though it burns. But only until his fingers brush you. Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling, mouth open wide in shock at how electric just one simple touch feels. 

His finger glides so easily around your opening, and you hear him gasp as he explores all the slick.

“You’re soaked.” 

His voice is thick with awe, as another finger joins in on the fun, gathering up your arousal. But they don’t breach, and you feel like he’s teasing, readying a whine in protest. 

The noise gets stuck in your throat when they trail up, gliding through your swollen folds. They find your clit, full and begging for attention, and circle with hardly any pressure. 

Oh, he’s fucking good at this. 

There’s no apprehension in his movements. It’s like he’s read a fucking manual on how to press all your buttons. The light, slick touches are building up that heat in your gut quicker than you can ever remember with anyone else. 

You’re stunned silent, eyes pinched shut and your head tilted back into the mattress, digging in for even an ounce of grounding. 

“That feel good, sweetheart?”

Your vocal chords come back to life, finally, as you whimper from the gentle drag of his fingers. 

“You have no idea.”

He chuckles, and you open your eyes to see his own still trained on your face. 

“I think I do,” he mumbles.

He shifts, presses his hips into you, and the hard line of him digs into your side. 

You clench around nothing, and your clit pulses under the pads of his fingers. He curses and responds to the needy little bud, applying more pressure and speeding up those little circles. 

All the while he grinds his hips into you, soft little movements that sync up with his hand, and you want him so bad. You’re losing patience by the second, the only thing keeping you from pouncing is the way his fingers work you over so perfectly it’s like you’re touching yourself. 

You’re not, though, and that becomes perfectly clear when one thick, long finger presses lower and slips into you. It slides so easily, despite how much girth it has on one of your own. You both make stuttered noises at the feeling, and Marcus’ lips capture your own to let them mingle together. 

Your hips egg him on, lifting and shifting, but he is teasing now. It’s a slow drag in and out, his finger pin straight, and if he hadn’t been so diligent this entire time you’d think he didn’t know what he was doing. 

But you whine, a soft plea of his name into his mouth, and he obliges. That thick finger crooks up, just as the heel of his hand flattens against your clit, and stars bloom behind your eyelids. 

You groan, and he laps it up before his lips leave yours. 

“That’s it. This what you needed?”

A pathetic whimper comes out in response as you nod your head. His finger presses harder into that perfect spot, and his palm slides over your wet clit. You’re clenching around him, savoring the feeling of being filled by him, working your hips down and back to meet his motions. It grows and grows, that feeling in your gut, so close that you can’t be bothered to worry about what needy noises you’re making.

He mutters another frantic curse, and his hips jump to press his cock into you harder. 

“I gotta taste you, sweetheart. Can I? Will you let me?” 

You nod so fast you’re surprised your head doesn’t detach from your neck. He soothes that frenzied part of your brain with another kiss, slips his finger out of you, and moves to get between your legs. 

You thread your fingers through his hair to keep him still, even if it’s just for a moment. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and the drag of his sweatpants across your sensitive center makes you arch up into him for more, to seek out more friction. 

He just huffs a laugh against your lips and angles his hips away, denying you the simple pleasure of grinding against the tent in his pants. 

“Not yet. Let me take my time with you. You’ve waited so long, right? I’ll make it up to you, you just gotta let me.” 

You huff. 

You should’ve known Marcus would be just as much of an infuriating tease in the bedroom as he is outside of it. The trivia dates and the cocky smirk he always sported when he won, the little bets he’d make on how a movie’s plot was going to twist, the refusal to ever let you pay for dinner— it’s all adding up now, and you can’t believe you didn’t expect it. 

Marcus Pike is a smug little prick underneath the humble, sheepish grins, and it’s hot and it’s yours. 

“Put your money where your mouth is,” you breathe. 

He chuckles and trails said mouth down the length of your naked body. You watch his plump lips explore your skin and leave wet patches littered in their wake, shiny little stakes claiming you. His five o’clock shadow is just long enough to abrade your skin a bit, delightful little pricks that make your muscles jump involuntarily.

He makes it to your mound before looking up at you. His brown eyes are mostly obstructed by his pupils, but they shine all glassy in the dim lamplight of his bedroom. His shitty grin has faded and he looks determined, and it steals the breath from your lungs. 

He teases some more, of course he does. His lips peck and tickle the creases of your thighs, the skin of your outer lips, and the very tip of your hood before you finally see his pink tongue slip out. 

All of a sudden you can’t watch, can only let your head fall back and close your eyes and drown in the anticipation. 

The pointed tip of his tongue just barely grazes you, tracing a razor-thin line from your dripping hole all the way to your mound. It tickles, and your breath comes in faster as he does it again, and again, and again. 

Just before you can beg for more, he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit. He laps at your folds, slow and calculated, and the satisfied noises tumble out of you as you feel his taste buds glide against you. 

All you can think to do is find his hair and use it to hang on. Your legs spread wider, and he takes the encouragement. His tongue finds your clit, so swollen and sensitive with need by now. He circles it, then wiggles his tongue back and forth, playing with it, playing with you. He shakes his head from side to side to give you more, presses even more firmly, and the heavy feeling in your gut tightens tenfold. 

Your hips start to move on their own, rocking up into his face, helping his motions along. He groans with it, muffled and wet between your legs. 

A delirious thought gets stuck in your horny brain. You don’t know how you’ll ever let him leave this spot between your legs now that you’ve finally got him here. It’s so wet and warm and incredible, and your nails dig into his scalp to drive the point home, to try and lock him here forever. 

His voice snaps you from your reverent thoughts, thick and deep. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. You taste so good, looks so fucking pretty.” 

You brave a glance down at him, his red soaked mouth and his dark eyes that are boring holes into your pussy. One of his hands releases its grip on your thigh to glide across the dripping mess of your center. He toys with you, spreading you open with splayed fingers, watching the way your folds bend to his whim. With it exposed and protruding and aching for his touch, he leans down to wrap his plush lips around your clit and suckle. Curses fly from your lips at the concentrated attention, and it’s so so so fucking good you’re sure you’re going combust. 

His hand slips lower, and his mouth doesn’t stop, and you’re dangerously close to tipping over the edge. And then two thick fingers slip easily into you, immediately seeking out that spot inside you and tapping there. 

It’s blinding pressure overwhelming the two places you need him most. He drums up a rhythm that would remind you of a dance, maybe, if your brain were cognitive enough to form a coherent thought. Down with his head, engulfing your clit, and up with his fingers, squeezing that spongy spot inside you. Over and over, he works you with soft grunts against your cunt until your fingers lock up in his hair and your hips start to shake. 

“Please don’t stop,” you pant, “I’m so close.” 

To his credit, and this is more than you can say for the majority of men you’ve been with, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down, nor does he speed up. He keeps at you exactly how you need it, moaning strung-out little noises into your center until you’re dropping. 

All the wind is knocked out of you. Your hips jolt into his face and he takes it in stride, lapping at your clit when the seal of his lips is broken from your erratic movements. You tremble through it, clench around his fingers, and squeeze his head between your thighs as you ride it out on his tongue. 

As the shivers roll through you, Marcus’ fingers slow, and though he can’t remove his tongue from you because of how your legs have him in a headlock, he stills his tongue so you can take the last bit of what you need from him. 

His breathing is just as heavy as yours, wheezing out moans and muffled words of encouragement. When you feel yourself slipping down from your peak, you let go of the death grip on his hair, and open your legs, and grant yourself a few deep breaths before you dare to look down at him. 

He carefully, cautiously pulls his fingers out of you. A comforting ‘shhh’ is cooed into the sweaty skin of your thigh when you make a strangled sound. Both of his hands splay out on either hip, a light and grounding touch accompanied by the kisses he’s dropping all over the skin he can reach. 

Finally, you grant yourself a peek down at him. The first thing you notice is how his broad shoulders are, heaving with baited breath. Then, his normally pristine hair, sticking out every which way and then some from your frantic fingers. 

His face is red, you guess from exertion. Or maybe you really did restrict some blood flow. Christ. That’s what he gets, being so goddamn good at that. 

And then his lips. His lips. Those lips that up until now you’ve only ever kissed or dreamed of. They’re even more plump, swollen and slick with you, shining just like his chin is. 

You don’t know what to say. You know you want to kiss him. Funny, considering that’s how all this started, but you’re dying to see what you taste like on him. 

Luckily, he breaks the silence, after licking those delectable lips and clearing his throat. 

“So… How’d it compare?” 

Your face contorts on its own, surprised at the sudden and intrusive question. 

“Pardon?”

But then he laughs, pressing those wet dimples into your heated skin to hide them. 

“To all those thoughts you told me about. How’d I do?” 

You laugh too then, a weary huff of breath as you sit up. 

“Don’t go fishing for compliments,” you tease, though there’s not much heat behind it with how out of breath you still are. 

He goes to respond, but you get a hand in his hair again and coax him up. You meet him halfway, swallowing his surprised noise when you finally get those pillowy lips against yours and lick at them, his tongue, his teeth, until you aren’t sure what taste is you and what is him. Until you realize you’re flat on your back again as he hovers over you, still between your thighs. 

You both hum when the kiss breaks, and you rest your forehead against his, nuzzle his nose and sigh at the floaty feeling in your limbs. 

“Better,” you whisper. 

You feel his grin bump into your own. You nip at it, playful and languid as you finally begin to get some of your bearings back. 

And then you’re shocked back into the realization that there’s all this smooth skin right in front of you, this hunk of a man hovering above, the one who just melted your brain into a fuzzy little mold of itself. You grab his hips as he licks into your mouth and scrape your nails up his flanks, unhurried, while the touch makes him shiver. 

You feel out the strength in his pecs, those broad shoulders you often daydream about, and then you push. Catching him off guard, he gasps as he loses his balance and tumbles to the side, and then laughs when you press him into the mattress and straddle his hips. 

You laugh along with him, but it slowly tapers off as his hands find your naked skin— your stomach and hips and back and then your ass, where it hovers just above that bulge in his sweatpants. 

He’s looking up at you with what you can only describe as horny apprehension. 

His eyelids droop over his dilated pupils, but his brow is all pinched up in the middle. His mouth hangs open, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. 

So you kiss him, soft and gentle, as gentle as he’s been with you all night. His sigh washes heat across your cheeks, and you feel him relax under you just a little. 

But then you shift in his grasp, lower your ass, and press your soaking center to his crotch. You whimper at the feeling of his sweatpants dragging across your sensitive, wet cunt. He moans and bites at your bottom lip maybe a little too hard. 

But it’s okay. He pulls away and pants your name and you settle there, your weight pressed down on his cock. Your lips find that smooth patch in his stubble, biting that chiseled jaw, licking down the curve of his neck, his shoulder, up to his ear. You delight in every goosebump you draw, and breathe in his scent before you speak up. 

“Will you let me suck it?” 

All his breath rushes out in a big gust. His fingertips dig into your naked sides, and he nods. 

“Please.” 

It’s a barely-there whisper. You pull away from that silky soft skin where his pulse is hammering to check his reaction. 

He’s begging with his eyes. It makes you smirk, sitting up straighter, trailing your fingers down the front of his body until you reach the drawstring of his sweatpants. 

You’re still sitting on his groin, though. You give a little playful wiggle, and his hips rock up to grind harder. But you don’t want to tease any more. Every moment spent teasing him, you’re also denying yourself, and you’ve been patient for long enough. 

So you shift down the bed, nestled between his legs, and get to work on the tie of his pants. Every time your fingertips brush the hair below his belly button, he sucks in a breath. You finally get the thing untied, and look up one last time for permission before you start to drag the material down, grabbing his boxers as you go. 

Your eyes stay trained on his face instead of staring at his crotch, especially as he wiggles a bit and lifts his legs to remove his pants. You don’t want to stare, and you also don’t want to not look, you don’t want him to be uncomfortable at all with you. 

You want it to be perfect. You want to make him feel the way he makes you feel. 

He nods his head, and you cease averting your eyes to trail down his body, the bushy happy trail and the neatly trimmed hair above his cock and his cock. 

His little cock. 

It is, indeed, on the smaller side. Probably one of the smallest you’ve seen in real life. Three and half or four inches long, if you had to guess. 

And it’s so pretty, cut and on the thicker side, the slightest upward curve that makes your pussy tighten around nothing. 

You dive right in, press your nose to all the hair while you kiss at the base of him, humming when his cock twitches against the side of your face. He smells so good and clean, like always, but down here there’s even more of that Marcus smell that always lingers beneath his soap and cologne, salty and warm.

When you drag your eyes up to him, his head’s thrown back against the pillows, not looking at you. You want him to look, you want him to see how much you’re going to enjoy this. 

You’ll make him look, one way or another. 

For now, you just lathe your tongue up the underside of him, then back down to tickle his balls, all the while enjoying how his prick jerks under the attention. 

He’s making little noises, mostly puffs of breath and gasps, and his hands twist up in the sheets beside you. You grab one of them, slow and steady, and lead it to the back of your head. 

And then, you finally get your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, and you slowly sink down until he’s entirely in your mouth. 

It’s not until your nose presses against the flatness above his cock do you hear him release a strangled groan. That’s when you look back up at him and find him staring down, mouth agape, locked on your mouthful of him. 

You pull back up, wiggling your tongue as you go, memorizing the ridges and hairs and veins. Your eyes are locked on his, and his are locked on your lips, so you try to give him a show. 

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, nod your head up and down to let his cockhead tickle your tastebuds. A gruff noise leaves him, hearty and hoarse, and you want to smile but you’re not in a position to. 

Instead, you flick your tongue against that little band of tissue just under his slit, and his hips stutter as his grip on the back of your head tightens. 

“Fuck, sweetheart.”

Now you do smile, your lips upturned against the head of his cock, and it jerks against your mouth while you kiss it, until you envelop it once more. 

You hum around him, at the weighted feeling of him occupying your mouth, how smooth it feels against your tongue and how nice it is to take him all the way in and not gag or choke or drool. 

It makes your cunt ache, makes you crave him even more, makes you want to be full of him everywhere. 

You reach a hand down to touch yourself. You’re still dripping, can feel it all slipping from your entrance and cooling your skin in the air conditioning. You’ve had just enough time to recover from the mess Marcus made of you. You’re sensitive but not too sensitive, when you trace your clit with your fingertips and moan around the mouthful of cock. 

“Oh fuck, are you touching yourself?”

Your eyes flicker open and look up to him. He’s clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth as his nostrils flare. You hum and nod your head to answer, his cock slipping back and forth through the ring of your lips. He whimpers, and his head tips back against the mattress again, and it makes you speed up the efforts on both him and yourself. 

He curses, soft little chants, kneading the back of your neck in his big hand as you suck him in over and over. You close your eyes and lose yourself in it for a bit, the way he slips so easily in and out, the way his hips move just a little, like he’s trying not to but he can’t help it. The sounds, his grunts and your sloppy mouth and your fingers working over your slick folds. 

He says your name. 

You hum, use your free hand to play with the fuzzy skin of his balls. 

He says your name again, and this time it’s urgent, almost panicked. 

“Sweetheart, stop, please.”

You do, immediately. You open your mouth wide and let him fall from your lips and unhand him while you look at his exerted face. 

“Are you okay?”

He huffs, and his cock bobs beside your face. 

“I’m so okay. I just— did you want me to…? It’s okay if you don’t, I just didn’t want it to be over—”

“Marcus.” 

His heated babbling stops as he clamps his mouth shut. His broad shoulders lift and drop with his heading breath.

“Do you want to fuck me?” 

You smooth your hands across the scattered hair on his thighs when you ask. His prick twitches again at your question. 

“I— Yeah. Yes. I do.”

He looks almost guilty about it, with his wide eyes and the bashful expression spreading across his face. 

“I want you to fuck me so bad,” you tell him, “I’ve wanted it for way too long.”

His breath leaves him in a shuddery exhale, something like relief or awe. 

“Yeah? You still want it?” 

His hand skates from the back of your neck to your jaw, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek. 

“Please, Marcus. Give it to me.” 

You turn your head to kiss his thumb, a sloppy little peck before you take it into your mouth. You smile around it when he groans, and bite it before it slips away. 

“Can you get on the edge of the bed for me?” 

You can, but not without throwing a cheeky ‘yes sir’ his way. You’re not sure if the noise he makes is from arousal or a lack of  amusement, but there will be plenty of time to explore that later. 

For now, you do as he says. You scoot so your ass is just about to fall off the side of his bed. The wooden bed frame is the perfect height to rest your heels on, and as Marcus slips a pillow under your head, you’re as comfortable as ever.

The mattress dips when he gets up to stand in front of you. The lamplight from the nightstand is really doing things for him. The slight sheen of sweat on his chest glistens, as does the wetness at his temples where his hair is starting to curl up. All those lean muscles have never been more apparent than they are now, the golden glow creating beautiful shadows across his naked body. 

He’s so hot. 

It doesn’t help that his big, warm hands snake up your bare thighs as he gets between them. His small dick stands at attention, pointing toward the ceiling, and you feel your pussy spasm with anticipation. 

“Please,” you whisper. 

He nods, steps closer as you spread your legs wider and wiggle even further off the bed. 

“Perfect, sweetheart.”

He leans over you with one hand on the bed to brace himself. The other is wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, and he looks down to watch it as he glides it through your slit. 

“Are you ready?”

You nod and hum your affirmative. He takes the go-ahead and his cockhead slides across your clit, down, so slowly, until it catches on the rim of your hole and you both gasp at the feeling. 

You look down to watch too, lifting up on your elbows to see the moment your pussy lets him sink inside, fluttering around him, engulfing his prick one inch at a time. 

You knew it. You fucking knew his cock was perfect but still you’re shocked at the way the curve makes him drag across your upper wall. And when his hips are flush with yours, all that pressure is concentrated at that bundle of nerve endings inside of you, and you’re going to lose your mind if he doesn’t move.

“Oh fuck.”

You let yourself flop back in the bed, but reach for his hand that’s supporting his weight. Your nails scrabble for purchase against the skin of his wrist as you curse again, your walls contracting around him as you tense. 

“Fuck, Marcus, please.”

You’re so far past caring about how desperate you sound. You need him, the textbook definition of it; it’s an absolute necessity that he fucks you. 

He curses, and you realize you’ve closed your eyes. When you open them, his jaw is hanging and he’s looking at you, your face, like it’s something he’s never seen before. Like he’s shocked you’re here in front of him. 

But his hips are still, and you’re helpless to the way your own cant up to urge him, and finally he’s pulling back out. The slow drag against the most tender spot inside you rips a noise from your throat, involuntary. He pulls almost all the way out, until the head of his dick is kissing your opening and you can feel how he stretches the tight ring of muscles. 

And then in again, almost as slowly, and you’re already out of breath. The feeling steals all the wind from your lungs. It’s setting you on fire, perfect friction against just the right spot, the one that’s still tender and alight from your previous orgasm. 

“It’s so fucking good,” you manage to choke out. 

Marcus moans above you, and his hips snap into you, and his free hand finds your waist so he can dig his nails into your flesh. 

“It is, fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking good.”

A bead of sweat drips from his nose and lands on your belly, and that seems to make you snap out of it. 

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard, please, make me come.”

You watch his mouth quirk up into a pretty smirk, dimples on full display. 

“Yes ma’am.”

Your giggles only last for a moment, dissolving into a high whine when he slides out of you and back in, a harsh thrust of his hips that doesn’t let up. 

He fucks you. You try to watch; it’s too hot not to. His biceps flex respectively, one with his effort to hold himself above you, and the other where he holds you in place by your waist. 

His neck, the one vein there that’s protruding as he bares his teeth. The way his chest is rapidly rising and falling as he drives into you. His big brown eyes, even darker now as he succumbs to the feeling of you. 

But you just can’t keep your eyes open for long. It feels too good, you’re too close to the edge. Your insides are so tender and alight from the first time you came. Every single thrust inside you is taking you apart and building your second so quickly. Your eyelids droop closed and there’s already stars blooming behind them. 

His little noises are louder, like this. Grunts and gasps and moans, falling over you, all for you. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you warn him.

Your back arches to encourage his pace. His skin slaps into yours faster as he groans.

“Thank god, me too. What do you need, sweetheart?” 

Without a verbal answer to his strained question, you slip your hand down to press against your throbbing clit. 

“Shit, yeah, play with your pussy for me. I wanna— fuck— let me see you come. Looks so gorgeous.”

His voice is thick in his throat, and you work your fingers over yourself faster. You’re clenching wildly around him, you can’t help it. Every thrust in sets your nerves on fire, almost too much, but not quite. His grunts are turning into growls, uninhibited and primal. You feel the mattress shift and open your eyes to find him standing up straight. 

Both hands grab your hips now, and that little angle change makes him grind even harder into your g-spot, and you’re tumbling over the edge. It’s been building under the surface for so long that when it hits, it’s blinding. There’s static in your toes that washes over you, up, up, dragging a fiery heat with it that consumes your center and makes your head fuzzy. 

There’s screaming. 

You’re screaming. Your eyes are clenched so tight, as are your fingers, all your joints, your pussy, around Marcus as he fucks you through it with sloppy thrusts. 

“That’s it, oh my god, sweetheart, you— fuck. I’m gonna come, I’m— where?”

“In me.”

Your throat is scratchy when you answer, and you don’t have any time to elaborate on why that’s not a bad idea. You’re still coming, wave after wave of warmth rolling across your body, and you’re vaguely aware of how wet everything is, the sound of him fucking you even more obscene. 

His shout doesn’t quite rival yours, but you feel it when he empties inside of you. His cock jerks and and twitches, wringing out every little bit of pleasure from you, and you think you’re still coming, the pinpricks of pleasure are still too intense to be aftershocks. 

He stays pressed as deep as he can be as his stomach convulses and his thighs shake, just like yours do where they’ve somehow wrapped around him. Your eyes open again, and the lamplight is so bright now, his breathing is so loud. He grunts and pulls out a bit, then presses back in, and again, until it falters and his whole body slumps. 

His top half collapses onto you, his little breaths huff and tickle the tingling skin of your belly. Your own breath comes out in a weak moan, and it takes all the strength you can muster just to run your fingers through his sweaty hair. 

“Jesus,” he says.

Your name cascading off his lips in such a strung out voice that it makes you clench around him again. 

“Huh?” 

God, how are you ever going to move again? 

“You uh… Is that a common occurrence?”

Christ, why is he using such big words? 

“What are you talking about?” 

He clears his throat. 

“You like— You squirted?”

You laugh, one delirious huff. It makes his head rock on your jiggling belly. 

“I what?”

You gather the will to look down at him. His mouth is open, surprised and amused, and his eyes are shiny and bright. 

“Yeah, like, a lot.”

He’s still inside you but softening, and his own chuckles make him slip out. 

You lift up on your elbows as he stands up straight and the evidence is clear. The hair above his dick and high on his thighs is all dark and soaked. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

The sheets on the edge of the bed are absolutely ruined, and you pray he’s one of those men that has a mattress protector. You’re more than a little mortified, and the way he’s staring at you, silent, is beginning to make you squirmy.

“What?” 

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

His fingertips are feather-light across your thighs, and you shiver. 

“I’ve never actually… done that? I would have warned you.”

He makes a pained sound, and those fingertips turn into a tight grip just above your knees. 

He doesn’t speak up. Instead, he lies on the bed beside you. He holds himself by his elbow, but that hand strokes your scalp while the other traces up and down your thigh, your hips, your breasts, anything he can reach. You avoid the topic at hand to relax into it, and you think you’re finally coming down as that boneless feeling washes over you. 

You’re vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, but the sheets are a lost cause anyway. You just watch his lax face, the way the wrinkles in his brow are all smoothed out, the way his eyes follow the patterns he’s drawing on your body. 

He catches you staring. His gaze meets yours and he smiles and it’s sunny. It warms you through, despite all the sweat that’s cooling on your body. 

“Hi,” he whispers. 

You giggle, and he does too. He tries to hold it in by biting his lip, but it’s no use. You will your exhausted bones to shift and face him, and he presses his lips to yours and they meld together.

It’s languid, unhurried, just reacquainting after too long apart. It feels a little goofy, with how you’re both smiling so wide, but it calms you into settling down after such a high. 

Both of your breathing seems even, when you part. 

“That was—”

“It’s never—”

You both chuckle. 

“Ladies first.”

You feel shy now. You can’t imagine why, but a fluttery feeling overtakes your stomach. 

“I was just gonna say… That was better than all those times I imagined it.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but his smile grows even wider. His eyes flicker from yours to the sheets between you, and you think maybe he feels as bashful as you do. 

“It’s never been that good.”

A sigh escapes him when he speaks, and his nervous gaze lands on you when his face falls into something more earnest. 

It takes your breath away. Because it’s never been that good for you either, and isn’t that such a perfect coincidence?

You tug him to you by the back of his neck, eat up the surprised little sound he makes against your mouth. 

“When can we go again?”

#Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x reader #Pedro pascal smut #Pedro pascal fanfiction #Pedro pascal characters #x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike smut #the mentalist

[vwritesaus]

you know you've made it in life when a fashion student compliments your appearance ( ꈍᴗꈍ)

#admin post #v speaks #it's been three days since that encounter and i'm still reeling from it #they complimented my hair :') #i was at work and they're obviously one of the fashion students there #SOOO fabulously dressed holy shit they were outfit goals right there #and as they were leaving the library they were like 'omg i love your haaaiirrrr - how'd you dye it??' #and when i told them they smiled so big and said 'it suits you SO much. i really love it the mint green is such a look' #(context: the underside of my fringe was dyed purple but it's faded out to a green now lol :'D) #i was screaming inside like oh my god what a compliment #went home with my heart soaring

[gay-dorito-dust]

How they’d react to you not kissing/hugging him before leaving for a mission…

Dick acts as though you told him his ass isn’t that fat in his spandex suit-

He’s insulted.

You always, always remember to kiss his cheek before he leaves. His ‘good luck, be safe and kick ass’ cheek kiss!

It’s your thing as a couple! Do you want to see him cry because he fucking will! He’ll do it!

Dick will pout, huff and whine loud as possible in hopes that you’d realise your error and rectify it tenfold. He won’t tell you what’s wrong. No, he wants and expects you to figure it out for yourself, which doesn’t get him anywhere when you’re looking at him confused and lost as to what he was whining about; Literally.

His mood will be down for the entirety of the day and you’ll no doubt have texts from his teammates and family members asking what was wrong with Dick to look so down.

You’re just as confused as them seeing as how Dick didn’t disclose his innermost thoughts and feelings to you despite being his partner, so you were at a loss on how to help them with something even you weren’t privy to knowing…it’s probably one of your biggest issues as a couple but that’s for another time.

Dick will do that pathetic thing where he looks back at you expectantly the closer he gets towards the door, even going so far as to walk extremely slow when he was within reaching distance of the door handle as to buy you enough time to notice before he genuinely had to leave.

When you don’t however, Dick acts like a kicked puppy for the rest of the day and will proceed to exaggerate to anyone with ears about how his lover was restricting him of his affection.

On the other hand, If you do manage to remember to give him a good luck kiss, planting an extra one on his other cheek for extra, extra luck. Dick will have a permanent smile on his face that will not go the fuck away, even when he’s beating someone’s ass, the smile remains glued on his face as though with gorilla glue.

Seeing Dick brutally beat someone’s ass with a smile was horrifying for anyone to witness but it’s okay bc he’s happy that you remembered to kiss him good luck.

Jason will immediately call you out on your bullshit.

And by that I mean cross his arms over his chest and stare at you saying. ‘Well?’

And you’re like: ‘well what?’

And he’s like: ‘where’s my good luck kiss that you owe me? Roy is waiting on me and here I am waiting on my kiss, so give me my kiss chipmunk.’

Jason doesn’t piss about and gets to the meat of the issue at hand. He wants his good luck kisses and he wants them now and he will not leave the apartment until he gets them.

You’d raise a brow at his not so subtle neediness for your affection and decided to tease him. ‘I thought you didn’t need my good luck kisses remember? You’re a big boy who can fight with or without my good luck kisses.’

Jason groans, not expecting you to pull that out. ‘I said that one time. One time and I was being a dick back then too because all you wanted to do was show me that you cared about me and didn’t want me to get hurt.’

You smiled and got up from the couch and walked over to him, resting your hands on his biceps. ‘So now that you admit that you were a dick and the way that you acted was wrong…’ you trailed off as you pressed a kiss to his lips once, twice, three times because you loved to kiss Jason whenever possible and will try to plant as many kisses as you could.

‘Thanks chipmunk.’ Jason murmurs against your lips, feeling everything has gone back to being right again. ‘Now I better be off or Roy will tease me for lingering too long-‘

‘Too late.’ Roy said from the doorway and Jason closed his eyes and silently curse while you smiled and waved at Roy. ‘Hi Roy!’ You said. ‘Hi y/n, mind letting Jason come out to play?’ Roy joked. You played along by making a thoughtful face as Jason mutters under his breath; ‘are you being serious right now?’

You snapped your fingers. ‘As long as you make sure Jason doesn’t get into trouble then yes, he may go out and play.’

‘I hate you both.’ Jason groaned as he walked past you and playfully shoved Roy aside to leave the apartment. Roy then cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted after him. ‘Are you sure you don’t want your goodbye kisses?’ You and Roy laugh together upon hearing Jason cursing him out from a distance.

Damian acts indifferent about it.

He doesn’t need a good luck hug, hell! he doesn’t need luck at all!

He’s skilled enough to win any fight without relying on something silly as Luck. Luck was just probability under a different name and definition. (A/n: Don’t quote me on that.)

So when you forget to give him a hug before a mission, Damian doesn’t think anything of it but it will linger in his mind unnecessarily much to his annoyance.

Why was he so hung up on not getting something a silly as a hug? Or was he instead more upset over the fact that you, his closest friend/partner, completely forgot about it as though it wasn’t anything worth remembering.

Either way he was conflicted and didn’t know how to go about saying any of this to you without getting frustrated over his apparent loss for words. He was a man of action more then anything so when he finally catches up to you, he will stride towards you and stop just a couple of inches and silently stare at you with his resting bitch face.

‘Damian?’ You asked. ‘Are you okay?’

Damian doesn’t say anything because he couldn’t think of anything to say in that moment and instead stays silent as to save himself from further embarrassment.

‘Damian?’ You asked again, getting worried over his unusual silence. ‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me-‘ before you could finish your sentence, Damian had lunged towards you and brought you into a very tight hug. You smile softly and gladly hugged Damian back, not saying a single word other then;

‘You don’t need me to say it but I’ll reaffirm it anyway, you’ll do great out there Dami. I know you will.’

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson fluff #nightwing x you #nightwing fluff #nightwing imagines #nightwing imagine #nightwing x reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #damian wayne fluff

[drefear]

Closer by NIN

This is part two for Nasty

Summary: You and Miguel have been finding things out about each other through your music choices.

TW: When I say that this one is rough, I mean that this type of sex could get you arrested. I'd bail him out. biting, scratching, dacrophilia, p in v, breeding kink, honestly just everything.

Miguel was panting a bit, rolling off of your body as you both came down from your high together. It had been a few weeks since he listened to that damn song you loved and found out about what you liked in bed, fully using this to his advantage and constantly making you a squirming mess underneath him. 

His eyes stared at the ceiling with a smile on his lips, then closing them for a second before feeling you shift beside him in his bed. He felt your breast press onto his chest as you laid on top of him and his hands slid to hold your waist, peaking open one eye at your smirking face. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours, mamacita?” He questioned, tapping his fingers into your skin a bit as you rested your chin on his pecks. You could feel his heartbeat becoming normal again after your rigorous rounds. 

“I’m just wondering what your turn ons are? What makes you insatiable and want more?” You go on and on as he just chuckles, brushing some of the hair from your face as you stare at him with your big doe eyes, filled with curiosity. 

“You, mi amor.” He answers and closes his eyes again, pulling you tight to him as he rolls onto his side and pecks your forehead. “Now we need to sleep, we have an early debriefing tomorrow.” He mumbled and you pouted a bit, pushing out your bottom lip even though his eyes were closed. 

You maniacally rubbed your hand against his still half-hard cock and his grunted, grabbing your wrist quickly to stop you. “Bebe.” His tone had shifted to authoritarian fast and you let out a ‘hmph.’

“One more, papi, please. One more round and I’ll sleep like a baby.” You begged and his eyes opened as an amused grin fell on his full lips. “I promise.” You finished and he yanked one of your legs around his hips, burying his face into your neck. 

“I can’t so no to my precious girl.” he nipped as you giggled, and you both continued once more, before falling asleep. 

The next day, Miguel was exhausted. One more round turned into three more rounds and then sex on the bathroom floor, in his kitchen, and giving him head in his elevator. 

So you could say it was definitely worth it to him. 

You brought out a sexual prince in him, someone caring and full of sweet, buttery smooth words that made your panties a swimming pool in the middle of July. And he was always welcome to dive in. 

“Wow. That’s a new record.” Jess spoke and you looked around, confused. “The hickeys, I mean.” She points to your neck and you immediately close the mask of your suit to avoid her scrutiny any more. She laughed lightly, “don’t be like that, remember that I’m technically the one who led him to give you said hickeys.” She prompts and sits, leaning on your desk. “So I’m guessing it’s all going good?” 

“Better than good, Jess. He’s- he’s like a God in bed.” 

“Wow. He must really be into it.” 

“What do you mean?” You asked, now scrunching your brows together. 

“Well, listen- he’s an attractive guy, and you’re not the only person with eyes at the HQ. He’s slept with a few in the past before he met you, but it was always a one-and-done thing, so I’m just impressed that he’s opened up about what he’s into.” 

And then you sunk down in your seat. “What… he’s into?” You questioned. 

“Well, yeah. You two always do what you both want, right? He used to complain about how vanilla most people were, so you must be doing something right.” She stands again and walks off. 

Leaving you alone to your thoughts. What… he wanted? You assumed that he was into what you were into, since you’d found him jerking off to exactly the things you’d wanted to hear, especially after that song- 

The song!

Oh, Jess and her big mouth probably told him about your love for that song! You blushed in embarrassment as you thought about him submitting to what you wanted. 

You didn’t want him to only focus on your turn ons, you wanted compromise and to share his darker fantasies. Isn’t that what a relationship was? 

“Lyla,” you called out and found the little AI pop up in front of you. “I need to know what sexual interests Miguel has.” The orange hologram sputtered a cough for a second while you rolled your eyes at her overdramatic display. “Lyla, you don’t even breathe.” 

“If I did, I'd be gasping in shock and clutching my pearls.” She shot back and you just sighed in defeat. “Besides, those files aren’t accessible to just anyone. You need permission from Miguel or me.” She folded her arms.

“Wait- permission? Like… his passcode?” You blurted out with hopes and Lyla nodded. 

“Well, yes, but-“ 

“Thanks Lyla.” You cut her off and hurried to his office, ignoring the hologram calling back to you. Your steps finally made it to the dark office Miguel used, more like a workshop for a robotics technician, but you didn’t dare correct him when it came to the Society. 

“Miguelito?” You called out, testing out a theory. When silence was your only companion in the room, you smiled and continued your plans. 'Perfect!' You cheered to yourself and hopped to swing onto his platform. 

The screens were much higher than you could see or reach, so you jumped up to sit on his desk and tap along the floating screens. You found what you were looking for after a minute, being greeted by Lyla once more. 

“You know, he’ll be made when he finds out.” She announced and you shrugged. 

“Not if I put what I find to good use.” You answered and the AI pretended to wretch, feigning nausea. 

“Gross. Hold on, if it’s that important to you, I might be able to bypass the code. But I’ll deny ever being here if you throw me under the bus.” Lyla answered and tapped something, then letting you watch the code fill itself. 

“This is his porn history. He doesn’t know I can see it, and I’m happy he doesn’t because that conversation would be really weird.” She pops a few screens, but most of them are just… 

“Is this... my social media?” You wobbled on the desk for a second from leaning back in shock. 

“Yeah, it tends to get him going pretty easily. Sometimes he listens to certain music, too.” She adds and you look directly at her, making her sigh and hold her glasses in disappointment. “I hate that I’m enabling you.” 

“Don’t stop now.” You demand and she lets his playlist pop up, one titled after you. 

Most of the songs seem to be very lovey dovey- and that’s when you find it. 

“Nine inch nails…?” Your surprise was evident as you read the band name once more. “I listened to this band in high school.”

“So did he. Believe it or not, he was a little rebellious in high school. I think it was the daddy issues.” Lyla tapped the song and the strange sounds from the song played heavily. 

“Thanks Lyla!” You tapped her away and ran from his desk, trying to make it as though you had never been there. Your mistake. 

That night, you began playing the song while cooking and tried to focus on the lyrics. 

“You let me violate you 

You let me desecrate you 

You let me penetrate you 

You let me complicate you”

Your jaw dropped, listening to the words. Oh.

The song exuded dominance and power, something very Miguel. But you didn’t think he could be so… rough. Of course he could be rough, the man had fangs and claws, but you thought he was much more into sentimental experiences, making love and such. You didn't realize he wanted to fuck.

Pressing your palms flat into the counter, you'd long forgotten your meal when the chorus bursts through your speakers. 

“I wanna fuck you like an animal 

I wanna feel you from the inside 

I wanna fuck you like an animal 

My whole existence is flawed 

You get me closer to God”

Your knees became jelly as you imagined him saying thing these things to you, gravel voice smirking as you fall to the ground before him and worship him like he deserves- like he would demand. 

“you tear down my reason

(Help me) it's your sex I can smell 

(Help me) you make me perfect

Help me become somebody else”

You could feel the desperation in the reverb of the songs drums. It’s no wonder he always inhales so deeply when he eats you out, he’s letting his animalistic instincts take over. He’s technically part spider, which is inherently an animal. He literally needs to fuck you like an animal to feel his whole DNA’s satisfaction. 

“I wanna fuck you like an animal 

I wanna feel you from the inside 

I wanna fuck you like an animal 

My whole existence is flawed 

You get me closer to God”

You breath hitches and you hear the door close, your head shooting up as you can hear the sound of his boots coming closer, spider senses tingling from behind you. 

“So… the scent of your wet pussy was all over my desk when I got back from Peter's universe… want to tell me why?” He inquired and you wanted to answer, but the hand sliding up your body and the thoughts plaguing your mind from the still-playing song we’re holding your tongue hostage. “No answer? My good girl always answers me, what's wrong? His gentle kisses land on the slope of your neck and you give him more access by tilting your head.

“What if I don’t want to be a 'good girl' tonight? What if…” he freezes and starts to put everything together. You snuck into his office, this song, your pheromones filling the room. 

“What if what?” He growls and you practically cum at the sound of his aggravated voice hissing at you. 

“What if… I want you to do what the song says… and fuck me like an animal.” 

His brain drowns in conflicted emotions. He wants nothing more to practically maim your skin with his claws and teeth, fucking you so roughly that you beg him to stop and take a break, plead for him to breed you like a whore, to hear you crying from how hard he’s going, how bad it hurts and amazing it feels. He wants to see you wake up with a limp in your walk and a belly full of his potential children. 

But then he also doesn’t want to scare you away. He doesn’t want you to be forced to do those things just because you want him to finish, to feel satisfaction. He’s more than satisfied with you, loves the sex you two have, he doesn’t need-

The words fly through his head, but everything stops when you roughly grab his cock through his suit and get onto your knees before him. 

“Mi corazón… you don’t know what you’re asking for.” He encourages you to stand up again, to stop asking for this, but you bury your face into the fabric and breathe in deeply. 

“Please, I need it in my mouth. I want you to fuck my mouth.” You beg and who is he to deny such a gorgeous request when he can see your fat tits practically spilling from the keyhole of your spider suit from this angle. 

“Fuck. Fine.” He says through gritted teeth and yanks your head backwards by your hair, disabling his suit completely as his cock pops out and smacks you a bit. He likes the sounds, likes the view of his face smothering precum across your cheeks and lips. And he wants more. “You like the idea of me suffocating you on my cock, forcing myself down your throat for you to suck?” He slaps his hard dick across your face and because of the weight and width, it actually kinda stings. “That’s it, my little slut… so horny just for me, so hungry to take my dick.” He roughly grabs your face and forces your mouth open, smushing your cheeks in his large hands and tapping his tip on your tongue. “Open wide and stick out that tongue.” He commands and you comply, tongue out and mouth open for him. 

He slams into your mouth until you can’t take much more, still missing a few inches of him. “Relax your throat, or I’ll fuck it so hard that you’ll be forced to.” He threatens and you try to lessen your muscles tightening. Pulling your hair into his body until your nose is smashed against his pelvis, dark happy trail against your lips.

The gagging makes him practically cum then and there, but he won’t let this end just yet. No, he needs to enjoy this more. unbeknownst to him, you were on the verges of an orgasm just from him fucking into the back of your throat one time. You hand slides down to touch your clit and rub yourself in gentle circles.

Sliding out, he rams his cock back into your waiting cavern and begins a relentless speed, shoving himself further and further each time until he can see the bulge of his dick in your esophagus. His head falls back and his fingers tighten in your hair, tears flowing freely down your cheeks as he brutalizes your throat and refuses to stop. His hand pins your head between the countertop of the kitchen and his postponing hips, refusing to stop until he feels your nails on one hand digging into his thighs and making him almost cum. You groan on his dick and he realizes that sound, he knows that's a signal that you've just finished with your own hand. He yanks himself out and starts fisting his cock fast as you cough and gasp for air, tears still forming mascara tracks down your cheeks. 

He bends down and hurls you over his shoulder, then throwing you onto the ground of the living room and making you do a split on your back, blushing at how exposed he had you. Three sharp claws formed from his fingers and he shredded the hips of your suit, bending down to your tits and latching the top in his mouth so when he turned his head, the rip was loud and your nipples were open to the cold air. 

“You’re going to lay here and take my cock until the only words you know how to say are ‘Miguel please fuck me.’ And I’m not stopping until you pass out from exhaustion.” He declares and puts the tip of his dick in your entrance, not even wasting a second and thrusting into you completely, making a scream tear through your throat in pain as he once again found your hair and thrusted. The lack of accommodation made you tighter than you’d ever felt, jerking hips his harder as your hand fell onto his abs to push him away, hiccups coming from your lips as the pain begins to grow at how hard he could go. 

“That’s it, shut the fuck up and take this cock. Cry about it, try to get away, but I’ll pull you back and fuck. You. Harder.” He rammed his hips into yours to punctuate every word of the end of the sentence. “I’ll fuck you so hard, you won't be able to get up for work tomorrow.” He says as he pounds his tip into your cervix, most definitely bruised and possibly hurt worse. But god, did it feel good, watching him get so crazy, so psychotically obsessed with you. 

“Migu-el!” Your words get broken up with as I should have been gone. 

“That’s it, my little bitch in heat, I’ll fuck you so hard, your entire bottom half with be black and blue.” He grunted and groaned, starting to feel like an animal on the discovery channel, then bending down and biting into your skin hard. Blood drew at the little punctures and he continued to bite deep, painful marks all over, looking like you were stung by a bunch of bees. His hands slid up your back and you felt the claws in his fingers latch onto you, scrapping across your smooth body and forming bloodied lines and marks of what looked like pure aggression, but if only everyone who saw them knows… 

You were fucking loving this.

Your body looked like an anomaly mission gone wrong; dark, scattered bruises that looked like they’d take weeks to heal, punctures all over your body like you were a piece of cheese, and red scraps like you’d tumbled into a bed of razors. All done by Miguel and his primal needs, and you’d let him do it again and again as long as he used his cock to completely pummel your insides. 

“F-fuck me, please, Miguel…” you gasped and choked out as his eyes blared red like sirens on a cop car, heaving and large above you. You orgasm around him and he makes a sound as if he’s a roaring lion.

“That’s it, ask me to destroy this slutty pussy, to breed you, to own you.” His words come out in an octave you didn’t know he could reach and your back arches, keeping his dick in you as he flips you over. 

Like a battering ram in and out of your pussy, he holds your arms and yanks your body back and forth on his cock like his own life sized pocket pussy. “Perfect little cocksleeve, letting me use her body like a fuckin whore. Only mine, no one else can touch you, mine.” he grunts and growls as he attacks your back again, wet lines of him basically slobbering all over you like a dog. He humps into you at a dizzying speed and you cum again, the searing burn of a too-fast orgasm swimming through your belly as he smiles and ruts upward, bullying your g-spot more and more. 

“One more, you can do one more, right?” He insists and makes sharp, hard movements against that spot. You weep louder as the lewd sounds of your wet pussy sucking him in and milking him dry echo around the room. Miguel moves to web together your arms behind your back, holding them now with one hand and grasping the back of your neck like a handle with the other, smashing his hips into your suffocating insides. "I'm not asking, you will give me one more, I want to feel your cunt clamp down on me again and try to suck the cum out of my cock."

Everything becomes white noise as another painful and overwhelming orgasm wracks though your body, making you jerk and shutter wildly as he holds you in his control and rides you through it. 

“That’s it, you’re my fucktoy, my personal little cunt for me to ruin and get pregnant. Gonna be all knocked up, gonna let me cum in you and fill you up. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fuck this cunt for the rest of my fuckin life.” His words send him tumbling into his own climax, shooting his seed so deep inside you that you swear it’s gonna spill out of your mouth. Miguel’s dick is so deeply buried within you as he cums that your legs shake and the muscles cramp, dropping below him. You’re completely fucked out, everything feeling like an irritation to your bloody, bruised skin. 

And the look on Miguel’s face is heartbreaking once he looks at you. Yes, it makes his dick hard again, but it makes his mind unravel into panic. He needs to apologize. How could he mark you up like this, damage you like this? He never should have let go, never should have-

“Wanna go again?” You mumble out and give him a little smirk. And he completely malfunctions.

“You… enjoyed that?”

“Are you joking? That was the most amazing sex of my entire life. We can do the sweet sappy stuff I taught you some other time, now abuse my cunt with your cock again please.” You beg and Miguel thinks he’s gonna lose his mind. 

You will be the death of him, and as he plunges into your hole once more, propping a pillow under your hips, he thinks about what type of sex playlist you two are gonna make together.

#miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel smut #atsv miguel

[raggedyflowers]

“When you try to rizz them up”

summary: one piece character reacting at you (trying) to rizz them up. it’s my first time writing smut so … don’t look at me I’m shy (may delete later)

character: Ace, Law, Sanji, Zoro x female reader

cr: NSFW 🔞, heavily flirting, suggestive words, semi public sex

Ace:

Drinking with Ace was not a smart idea ‘cause while the alcohol went directly on your brain, it seemed that Ace burned it as soon as it touched his lips. So it’s not a big surprise when at the end of the evening you were drunk, but he was perfectly fine. “So” you smirked at him, with a courage you usually didn’t have. “You catch fire only to the fist or even up the elbow?” it was such a dumb line that you should’ve feel embarrassed even if drunk, but Ace found it endearing. “You are so out your mind right now, y/n” he told you, helping you get to your room. “You make me out of my mind” you kept going, ignoring his laughter. “Whatever you say” he respond to you. “Usually I’m better at flirting” you mumble to yourself. “You’re going great, why don’t you try when your sober?” he asked you with a smirk, leavening you at the door at yours room without words. The next time you hanged out together, Ace kept an eye on you. “Try to remain sober this time, y/n” he winked at you. “I really wanna satisfy your curiosity”.

that night he did satisfy your curiosity… and not just that

you two found your way to Ace’s room and then he showed you how fast he can warm up the situation

He let you sit on his face and he spent the night eating you out

Law:

Your relationship with Law has always been private and even if someone could have said that he was cold with you, you know behind closed door Law was nothing but a loving and caring partner. It didn’t stop you to try to rizz him up in front of the rest of the Heart Pirates. You loved seeing him blushing, but most of all you loved what did come after. “You don’t need to use your devil fruit” you said to a confused Law. “You already have my heart”. You look satisfied the red cheek of your boyfriend who shock his head. “Why are you like that, y/n-ya?” he asked talking over the laughter of your crewmates. “Like what?” you asked innocently. “I just want you to shamble my organs with your dic —” you never finished the sentence since Law grabbed your arms and took you away.

“You already stopped being a brat, eh y/n-ya?” he asked after pinned you at the wall as soon as you two have entered in his room

You could’ve just bite your tongue for keeping your moans low

“Ah-ah” he said while slowly tracing your entrance with his tattooed fingers. “Don’t stop talking now. Let everyone hear you like before”

And then he push his fingers inside of you and you couldn’t do nothing but scream his name

Needles to say your organs were actually shambled that night

Sanji:

“You should wear the burgundy suit more often” you said to Sanji taking him aback. “Mmh?” he asked you, stopping cutting the vegetables. “I need something pretty to look at”. You always said things like that to him, joking mostly, but not entirely. And you loved seeing his cheek turning red after you called him pretty. “Move please, pretty boy” you said one day passing near to him and grabbing his waist to move him. “Y/n ~ ” he mumbled covered by your laugh. “Pretty, really?” he asked you and you cupped his check. “The prettiest” you said to him. “Not as pretty as you, my love” he told you back. “Wanna show me how much pretty you can be for me” you asked him with a mischievous smile.

he did show you how pretty he is

with his red cheek and sweet smile while he pounded into you

“you are the prettiest” he said you groping your breast while he kept his pace. “taking my cock so well”

but really he was the prettiest boys, especially when he lowered himself and started eating you out

Zoro:

One of your favourite activities on the Sunny was watching Zoro work out. You pretended to read a book but your eyes couldn’t help but to lingering on his sweaty body. “Your book is upside down” he said to you with a smirk. “Really?” you asked, without an ounce of shame. “Are you training on the forth swords styles?” Zoro looked at you with confusion. “You know, the other sword in your — ” you pointed at his pants. He smirked. “Wanna found out?” he smirked again.

he actually spent all night “practicing” with his forth sword

you never been more happy to indulge him

“do you like my sword style?” he asked you while keeping the brutal pace pounding into you

you wanted to say yes, but couldn’t form a single thought

#one piece #straw hat pirates #trafalgar law #one piece fluff #sanji x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar one piece #one piece fanfiction #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #black leg sanji #sanji one piece #ace one piece #ace x reader #ace d portgas #one piece smut #reader insert

[daisynik7]

Make Me Sweat

Pairing: Aoi Todo x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: ~2.5k

cw: written with a curvy reader in mind, canon-divergent (post-Shibuya but a happy one), all characters are 18+, explicit language, smut – cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, spit play, PIV sex (cowgirl position, mating press), breeding kink, praise kink, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, baby, pretty girl, good girl), creampie 

Summary: With the start of the new year, you make it one of your resolutions to become more active. You begin at your apartment's fitness center, where you run into your muscle head, loud-mouth next-door neighbor, Aoi Todo. He offers his gratuitous advice, annoying you at first. But when he suggests a particular kind of workout, it piques your interest enough that you can't refuse.

Author’s Note: I used metric units (kg) to describe the weights. Also, I am no expert in lifting so please take all of this with a grain of salt LOL. I just know that canonically, these characters are fucking STRONG. I stopped with the tag list on this one bc technically this was a bonus fic and I wasn't sure if anyone wanted to be tagged in these. With that, please enjoy some shameless smut about our favorite JJK himbo! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

part 6 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

When you said you wanted to start exercising more, you weren’t expecting this: being bounced up and down your next-door neighbor’s impressively huge cock. Yet, here you are, getting pounded with your ass slapping lewdly on his thighs. His big hands dig into the sides of your belly, his lips on the skin of your neck, voice gruff and husky.  “Told you, didn’t I?” 

Let’s rewind to a few hours earlier.

You haven’t been prioritizing yourself lately; your obligations during the day drain all the energy from you and your bed is always so enticing for a nap. When the new year approaches, you make it one of your resolutions to be more active. The gym in your apartment complex is finally open after being renovated the past three months and now, there’s really no excuses when the opportunity is just five floors below you. Your forego your usual nap and suit up in your favorite workout clothes, heading down the elevator to the fitness center. 

Luckily, it isn’t crowded; the only other people inside are Aoi Todo, your neighbor, and his pink-haired buddy, Yuji. They’re both at the weights section, Yuji doing squats with the barbell while Todo spots him, yelling at him encouragingly. “Come on, brother. Hold it, hold it! You got this!”

Yuji grunts, holding the deadlift for as long as possible, eventually dropping it to the floor with a loud thud. Todo claps emphatically, beaming at him. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

You smile to yourself, amused at Todo’s contagious enthusiasm. When he notices you, he gives you a nod, which you return, slightly embarrassed for being caught watching. 

Have you mentioned yet how fucking ripped he is? Today, he wears a loose tank, arm holes cut low to show off his extraordinary physique. Arms bulging with muscles, an incredibly large chest, a well-defined eight-pack. He’s built like a Spartan warrior, ready for battle, destined for victory. It’s impossible to ignore a body like his, even more impossible to ignore his eccentric attitude, which gets on your nerves when you have to listen to his noisy demeanor on the opposite side of the wall. 

The cardio section is on the other side of room, so you make your way to one of the treadmills, setting the level to a walking pace for a quick warm-up. Before you put your headphones in to listen to music, you eavesdrop of their conversation, observing them from your peripheral. 

“Good shit, brother,” Todo says, massaging his shoulders affectionately.

Yuji scratches his head, grinning. “Still got work to do to match my PR. After Shibuya, my strength hasn’t been the same.”

“You’re still the strongest fucker I know. Besides me, of course,” Todo adds, chuckling. “Spot me before you go.” 

They replace the already notable weights with what you suspect are heavier ones. Yuji whistles through his teeth. “300. You’re losing your touch, don’t you think?” he teases, nudging him in the ribs.

Todo digs into a container of powdered chalk, coating his fingers with it. “I’m taking it easy today. Don’t want to over-exert myself in case something exciting happens later.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He grabs on to the barbell, smirking. “I don’t know yet. We’ll see.” Maybe it’s your imagination, but you can almost swear that his eyes meet yours for a split second in the reflection of the mirror. 

You continue to observe as Todo easily deadlifts 300 kg, as if it weighs nothing to him, repeating this ten times without breaking a sweat.

Yuji laughs, helping him rerack. “That’s crazy.”

Todo pats his back. “You’ll get there soon, brother. Once you’re fully recovered, you’ll be lifting more than me, I’ll make sure of that.” His unwavering support is actually endearing. Sure, he can be obnoxious, but this side of him is charming. 

Unfortunately, this sentiment doesn’t last long. Once Yuji leaves, Todo decides to choose the treadmill right beside you, purposefully neglecting the surrounding unoccupied cardio machines. You’re still at a walking pace, eyeing him suspiciously as he stands there, blatantly watching you with a cocky grin. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Avoiding his gaze, staring at the console in front of you, you mutter, “Excuse me, but I’m trying to focus here.”

“Focus on what? Walking?” he scoffs, leaning on the handrail nearest to you. “You’re not going to get far if you keep going at a snail’s pace.”

You roll your eyes, finally looking at him. “So what do you suggest, Oh-Wise-One?”

It’s meant to be sarcastic, but of course, he thinks you’re genuinely asking. “You’ve got to alternate between high intensity and low intensity. Sprint for thirty seconds, then walk for a minute to cool off. Then repeat. Simple as that.”

As much as you appreciate the gratuitous advice, you’re already familiar with high intensity interval training. You’re just nervous to actually do it, not confident in your running abilities. “I’m not a good runner,” you admit. 

“I’m sure that’s not true. Come on, show me what you got.” He crosses his arms over his pecs, waiting. 

Deciding it’s better to relent to him rather than argue, you brace yourself, upping the speed so that you’re doing an easy jog. 

“You can do better than that!” he hollers, reaching for the controls to increase the level, making the track move faster and faster. You’re sprinting full speed now, lasting about thirty seconds before you swat him away, tugging at the emergency shut off cord to stop it. 

You catch your breath, glaring at him, sweat starting to bead on your forehead. "What the fuck, are you trying to kill me?!"

He’s unfazed by your outburst and oblivious to the asshole move he made. “Don’t be so dramatic. You did great. You have really nice form.”

You don’t let his compliments dissuade you from being angry at him. “You can’t just do that without any warning. I’m still getting used to all this.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I won’t do that again.” He watches you take long sips from your water bottle, scanning your figure up and down. A coy smirk spreads across his face. "You know, if running ain't your thing, there are other workouts we can try that might suit you better."

You continue to drink, gradually regaining your composure. "Like what?"

He leans in close to you, breath hot on your ear. "Sex."

You choke on your water, using your towel to wipe the mess. Ready to give him an earful, he hops off the track, walking towards the exit. "If you want to work up a real sweat, you know where to find me. I promise to make it worth your while.”

And with that, he's gone, leaving you speechless. And intrigued. 

~~~

After dinner, you take a long shower, Todo’s unconventional suggestion replaying continuously in your mind. You’re almost certain it’s a ridiculous joke, though the more you analyze it, the less ridiculous it seems. In fact, by the time you’re drying off in front of the mirror, checking your reflection carefully, you’re seriously considering it. You’re not particularly tired from earlier, so maybe you have room for one more workout. And hey, if the offer still stands, why not take it?

You slide into a different pair of leggings, one that shows off your curves, and slip on a t-shirt, fulling prepared to exercise. In your running shoes, you walk the few steps next door and knock twice. When he doesn’t answer within the first ten seconds, panic sets in and you’re tempted to turn on your heel to retreat. Before you can, the door swings open and you’re greeted by Todo’s bare bust. He smirks, not at all surprised to see you standing in front of him. “Hey.”

Swallowing the thick saliva gathering on your tongue, you let out a meek, “Hello.” His enormous frame towers over you and you can’t help but salivate at the sight of him. You always assumed he’d be the type of guy to walk around shirtless in his apartment. Not that you’re complaining.

He beckons you inside, closing and locking the door shut behind him. “Can’t stop thinking about it, huh?”

You roll your eyes at him, cracking a smile simultaneously. “Well, it’d be rude to turn down such a generous offer, right?”

He lets out a small laugh, stepping towards you, gripping at your hips to pull you into him. “I knew you were a smart girl.”

You’ve severely underestimated how much bigger he is than you until this moment, as you peer up at him eagerly. “Todo.”

He bows his head down, mouth grazing your ear. “Aoi.”

“Aoi,” you repeat, breath hitching. 

“Good girl,” he praises, making you shudder with anticipation. “Tell me exactly what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

You paw at his chest, admiring his sculpted muscles, pressing your fingers into them without even making a dent. “I want you to give me that workout you promised me.”

“Yeah?” he croons, his noticeable erection strained in his sweatpants. “You want this fat fucking cock, don’t you?”

He’s as vulgar as you imagined he’d be and it only spurs you on. You link your arms around his neck, on your tippy-toes to meet him for a kiss. Instead, he hoists you up, holding you with his hands below your ass, your legs wrapped around his waist. His boner throbs as you buck your hips on him, desperate for friction on your aching clit. “You feel it, don’t you?” he purrs, grinding you against him. “That’s all for you.”

He carries you into the bedroom, kissing you sloppily with his massive tongue invading your mouth. When he can’t take it anymore, he tosses you onto the mattress, stripping his clothes off swiftly, you doing the same. He crawls on top of you, ogling your naked body, a lustful gleam in his expression. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“You’re so fucking big,” you blurt out in response, not knowing a better word to describe him. Because everywhere you look, Aoi Todo is big. Big biceps, a tremendous torso, a huge fucking cock ready to fill you the fuck up. You spread your legs open for him, practically begging for him to fuck you. 

“Look at this perfect pussy,” he coos, face inching closer to your cunt. He hocks a thick wad of spit directly onto your clit, smearing it with his tongue. “So wet for me.”

You squirm beneath him, unable to control yourself. “Fuck, Aoi,” you swear, toes already curling from the sensation. 

“I’m going to make you come first. Make this pussy extra creamy for my dick. Is that okay, sweetheart?” He massages circles into your clit with his thumb, looking up at you from between your thighs. 

“Yes,” you whine, trembling with arousal.  

“Good girl,” he says again, and you realize how fucking sexy it is when he praises you like this. “Can I finger you too?” 

“Oh god, yes,” you moan, growing impatient, needy for whatever he’s willing to offer you. 

With his lips latched to your clit, he teases your entrance with his middle finger, slowly sliding deeper until he bottoms out. He adds another digit, pumping inside you while he sucks on your bud, tongue swirling around it. You rock your hips against his face, greedy for more. Todo hums, encouraging you, the vibrations spurring you on until it’s too much. You come for him after a few more strokes, gushing all over his face. You reach down to grab his hair, trying to pry him off you, but he’s obviously way stronger and more resilient. “One more,” he muffles, chin shiny with your slick, his tongue flicking your clit. “For me.” He flashes you a cocky smirk that makes him even more impossible to deny.

You throw your head back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling, hazy-eyed from the pleasure. The squelch of his fingers in and out of your wet cunt is obscene, combined with the shameless moans pouring out of you. After your second climax, or maybe it’s the third (you’ve lost count), he finally eases off you, slurping his digits clean to swallow up your juices. “You’re doing so good for me, pretty girl.” He strokes his cock in his fist, tapping the glistening head on your swollen clit. “It’s going to feel fucking amazing.”

You hum, the only response you can muster in this fucked-out state. 

“How do you want it, sweetie?” He lifts you off the bed, having you straddle his lap. “You want to ride me?” 

You nod, resting your head on his shoulder, yearning for anything. “Yes.”

“Fuck yeah,” he growls, slapping your ass before guiding his cock into your slippery cunt. You gasp, astonished by the extraordinary girth of him filling you up to the hilt. “You’re swallowing me up.” He spreads your cheeks apart, squeezing your ass in his grip. “That’s my girl.”

You gaze at him, pressing your forehead to his, sticky with sweat. “Fuck me,” you whimper, kissing him fiercely, completely enraptured by him.

He does, bouncing you on his lap, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you’re unraveling for him once more. “Told you, didn’t I? Told you I’d make it worth your while.”

Whatever semblance of rationale you had is gone. All you can think of is Todo’s manhandling you like a fucking rag doll, pliable and yielding to his every touch. Before you reconsider it, you spout the words, “Breed me,” wishing nothing more but to have his hot load leaking out of your cunt.

As if he wasn’t already feral enough, he most certainly is now, planting his feet on the bed to fuck up into you faster and harder. “That’s what you really want? You want my fucking seed in you? Oh fuck. I’ll give it to you, then. I’ll give it to you so fucking good.”

It happens quickly; you’re on your back again, folded nearly in half, knees to your chest, Todo fucking you in a mating press like his goddamn life depends on it. The mattress creaks noisily with each savage thrust he delivers. Sweat drips from his face onto yours as you kiss each other passionately, his massive body surrounding you as he floods your womb with his cum. “Fuck, milk it all out of me baby. That’s it. That’s my girl.”

You stay like this for a moment, allowing yourselves to catch you breaths and cool down. This really was a workout. Todo takes his time, reluctantly pulling out and watching his cum ooze out of you. 

“I can’t believe we did that,” you sigh, hiding your face in the pillow.

He gets comfortable beside you, giving you a smooch on the forehead. “Honestly, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

“Really?” You look at him, cupping his cheek gently, wiping the perspiration off his brow with your thumb. 

He smiles, nuzzling into your palm. “Yeah.”

“Then maybe we should make this a regular thing,” you suggest as you snuggle into his arms. 

“Sounds like a plan to me,” he agrees, embracing you.

And just like that, you have yourself a new and very, very personal trainer. 

#todo aoi #todo x reader #todo jjk #todo smut #todo aoi x reader #todo aoi smut #aoi todo #aoi todo x reader #aoi todo smut #aoi todo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #to all the boys who live next door #todo x you

[peaachypie]

Video

Warning :

(camgirl, masturbation male and female, mention of porn video)

Miguel is a stressed man.

Always working, doesn't have time to rest properly neither to go outside and have his way with women.

But it happen, sometime when finaly sit on his chair to have a small break.

Ding !

Turning his blood red eyes to his phone he stare at the notification.

"@.peachie♡ is on live ! Don't miss it ;) "

When he click on it, you were there all smiling and welcoming everyone with those revealing clothes. Even a blind person could see your nipple through the fabric of the shirt. You were smiling, saying how much you missed your fan.

" you're so pretty !"

" spread your legs for daddy sweet girl..."

" can't wait to see those tits bouncing "

It was the comment you always had. You never answers to them. If they wanted to, they need to pay and Miguel knew it.

Some people might say it's easy money, or dirty money but for you it was just money. Doesn't give a shit from who it's from and how you make it.

You were talking about thing most people don't listen but he did.

Miguel always listen, he never comment.

He just listen.

@.Miguel_Ohara send 2k to @.Peachie♡

" thanks you Miguel ! Aw so...so sweet !"

You clap your hands, bending over to " see " the notification. Your breast exposed from the position. Miguel doesn't use his money for himself ... why not for you ?

The night keep going with that.

Miguel send money and you show some part of yourself until it was interesting for him and the others viewer.

" h...haa...t...thanks Miguel...!"

You breath heavily, as your finger move inside your hole with wet sound coming out.

Miguel watch, sighing against his teeth before looking down at his crotch. His aching cock pulsing against his holographic suit.

The sound of your moan and whine echo in the empty office as he let his cock break free in a small whimper.

He comment in private. He doesn't want people to see his public comment. It wasn't the first time you talked with on in private chat and it was where he mostly ask his request. He doesn't let his need come often, but when he does. He does it good.

Your eyes were filled with tears as you read the paragraph he send you, the way he describe you and the dirty talk but in a polite way. It was a lot. It was too much. It was often odd for the viewer to see how you played with yourself when someone gave you money, almost like if it was boring for you but when it come to him, everything was so much better, so much powerfull.

They couldn't see what Miguel told you, but by the expression on your face, it was good.

Miguel moves his hand on his cock, his thumb stroking his tip as precum would slowly run down his lenght. His eyes were almost close, as he let escape some whimper from his lips. Bitting his bottom lips to hold himself.

Watching you pleasure yourself was so pretty to watch. Hearing you cry his name and the fast " thanksyouthanksyou " you said everytime you reach an orgasm was music to his ears.

His start moving faster on his throbbing cock. His was so desesperate, he wanted to come with you, to come in you.

To watch you cum in person as you would thanks him for giving you his hard cock.

He scratch his desk with his talons, his cum coming out on his hand and lower stomach.

When he turn back his eyes to the screen, you were breathless, making a heart with your hand.

" thanks you all for watching ! See you next time ♡"

The live end on this.

Miguel take some time to think, to have some rest from his lewd activity before his phone ring again.

Peachie♡ send you a message :

" You're one, even THE only one always here and you send me a lot. You're a good fan♡

I was thinking that ... If one day you want to make a video with me, it would be my pleasure ♡"

His eyes widden at this message.

A video with you ? Did he wish too hard ?

His face goes hard again when his holographic assistant appear.

" aw come on big guy, you could have dress yourself !"

" Lyla, shut up please. I'm tired."

" too tired to do a video ?"

She says with a teasing grin as he groan in a slightly annoyed expression.

" I don't have time for video or whatever it is."

He clean himself and dress up, standing ready to leave for his apartment in Nueva York.

" you have nothing on wednesday ..."

He turn his eyes to the " innocent " face of his assistant. He leave in silence.

@Miguel.Ohara : are you busy on wednesday ?

@.Peachie♡ : i can be busy with you :)

@.Miguel.Ohara : you're gonna be.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #across the spiderverse

[dcxdpdabbles]

Cave boy Danny just casually mentioning things that correspond with Bruce, like the time he stole an experimental power suit and shot a god corresponding with Bruce shooting Darkseid or the Infi-map being like the time Bruce was lost in the time stream, and the bats wondering how this kid can remain a civilian

Danny tried his best to not blink too quickly, as it may cause the stranger to shoot him. He honestly has no idea how he ended up here, but somehow, he was taken hostage alongside a bus full of people on his way to buy some chips.

He got tired of Alfred's instance to ban all junk food from the manor and had snuck out while the Wyanes had been busy going over plans for some big showdown with a guy named Scarecrow.

Danny doesn't know who that is and doesn't care to find out. The less he knows, the less likely he will have to deal with rouge. He's on vacation, dang it.

Or he was until the bus was taken over by a group of men wearing gas masks. They forced their way onto the bus when they stopped for some passengers, forcing the driver at gunpoint to drive them off course, and now they were heading to a wear house. People were crying, but Danny felt like screaming.

He just wanted spicy chips, and- maybe if he had the time- he would swing by the old junkyard to find a steering wheel for his ship! Fenton luck strikes again, it seemed.

"I wouldn't be so smug, Kane," One of the people in a gas mask shouts at him. He blinks up at the woman pointing her gun at his head but scoffs at her stance. His mother would throw a fit if Danny or Jazz ever placed their feet so off balance like that while wielding a weapon. "Once Dr.Crane is done with you-"

"I'm sorry did you just threaten me with myself?" Danny cuts her off. She pauses seemingly thrown before she sputters.

"No- not Kane, Crane."

He blinks at her. "You just said the same thing"

"C-R-A-N-E." She spells in a huff.

"Ohhhhh. Sorry, the mask makes it hard to understand you. Okay, so where were you? Dr. Crane is going to do what with me-?" Danny asks, leaning back in his seat, and waving his hand at her.

There is a moment of silence before she hits him across the face with her gun. "Don't you mock me!"

"Ow." He deadpans, rubbing at his cheek, and wonders if it was supposed to hurt. His healing had vanished the pain before her gun left his skin. "I thought we were having a conversation, but forgive me, I had no idea you had an inferiority complex and assumed everyone was mocking you. Let me guess, no one has ever told you they are proud of you, and now you are defensive of every action you take because-"

"Shut up!" His voice wobbles and Danny knows he hit the nail on the head.

"Does it keep you up at night? Does it freak you out that everyone can see your issues on your face as bright as day? I bet it does it. Bet it causes you to cry like a sad little confused kid who still can't figure out how to ask for help." He doesn't mock. He states it as fact because that is what it was. Fact. She does break down about it; he can tell by her reaction, and his tone makes it all the harder to swallow.

"I'll kill you!"

"Do it." He smiles. "Saves me from your boss. But will that keep you safe? Let's find out! How long will it be before he breaks you down? Ten, maybe fifteen minutes? And he will break you; you know he will. He's already halfway there."

"I-" She stumbles away from him. He doesn't have to see her face to know it's gone pale. Ha.

One of her crew hits her shoulder, having heard him speaking while the rest of the bus stares. "Stop letting him into your head!"

"Oh, what's your name?" Danny asks, blinking his large blue eyes at the man, watching his body language for clues. His eyes zero in on three belts and how they all match up at the buckle despite the fact that they are stacked on top of each other. Didn't Jazz once say that a belt with that much control hinted about attention to detail?

Hmm.

"Is the plan falling apart- can you not control it? The way life just moves on without you and that freaks you out doesn't it. The lake of control?" He asks, and the man jerks back. Bingo.

"Holy shit," A teenager whispers in the back horrified. "It's Dr. Crane jr."

"No, that's the Rabid Dog," Another answer. "Heard he made three elites cry after talking to him for more than ten minutes."

Danny is about to open his mouth when suddenly Robin crashes through the front window. Rude. There is glass everywhere now.

Hours later, Alfred franticly checks him over for injuries while the rest are freaking out. Apparently, they had feared to find Danny screaming from terrible visions but instead found him mentally breaking the hired goons with Jazz's training. "It's not like they did anything. I had a harder time stealing a super suit than those fruitloops-"

"You stole a what?" Tim cuts him off, eyes narrowed. Danny shrugs.

"I mean, haven't we all stolen a super suit?"

"Literally, no one here has done that," Steph tells him, and Danny tilts his head.

"You guys must have had boring childhoods. Surely you at least tried to organize your school into a battle-ready militia? No one can finish school without doing that at least once."

Dick raises a hand. "Brucie, how common is this in your world? Because that's alarming."

"All the kids at my school do that. My graduating class has done it three different times back in freshmen year." He shrugs. Cass makes a strange noise in the back of her throat.

"Not a lie. Brucie is strange," She tells the group, and everyone stares in bewilderment at the boy sitting on the medical table, even Bruce.

Danny smiles at them sweetly like he would at Vlad when the fruitloop is over, and he gets his parents to throw him out sooner than he wants to leave. It curves with just the right amount of innocence and mischievous nature that no one can tell if it's a positive or deadly expression.

"You are from a war-torn world?" Damian inquires, fingers under his chin with a frown. "How are you so carefree?"

"Oh no, we haven't had a war in about- eh fifty years? Give or take." He answers and once again Cass confirms the truth of his words.

This does nothing to settle their nerves.

"Every day I learn more about teenage Bruce, and every day I am more unsettled," Jason announces, and the rest of the Bats nod. Danny's smile turns broader and softer. It makes him more attractive but unsettling in a way.

Alfred sighs with a fond smile. "Oh, the memories. Master Bruce used to smile at his dates in the same way. I can picture him taking that sweet girl to the movies as if though it was yesterday."

"Bruce, how in the world did you get people to date you? That's creepy as hell. " Dick accuses the man who only shrugs.

"Oliver once told me it was part of the thrill. The idea that I could kill them."

"Why!?"

"I wish I knew chum."

Danny slips the control into his sleeve- he will rip it apart later for the Bluetooth piece. He will wait till the Waynes are too busy with Bruce's old stories about his first few dates to take apart the fear gas bomb he took from the woman earlier today. Could he use it as a fuel?

He'll have to do some tests.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Cave Boy #Part 4 #Danny continues to be strange #He tells no lies but not all truths #The weird part is that he's still acting like teenage Bruce #Mentally breaking down Scarecrow's crew is a big accomplisment #Tim is even more weary of him

[russellsppttemplates]

Hiiii I love all your writing!! so I wanted to request one where Hervé is so sad when he sees that his parents (y/n and Charles) didn't invite him to their wedding. They try to explain to him that it's because he hasn't been born yet, but he still thinks it's because they didn't want him there, so his parents organize a fake wedding so that he can attend.Sorry if you don't understand much, English is not my first language🥺🥺❤️❤️

Note: no worries, I got it! English is not my first language either! 🫶 Thank you!!!

"Oh, what's in this box?", Hervé asked, opening the box where you kept your wedding albums and hard drives, taking the big photo album out, "Why does it look like it's your wedding? You're wearing a white dress, mama", he reasoned.

"It was our wedding", you offered after sharing a look with Charles as he patted Thomas' chest to get him to burp.

Hervé looked at both of you and Charles, his bottom lip trembling before he started crying, "and you didn't invite me? Or Amélie or Thoma?", he said as the distraught was clear on his voice.

"Amour, you weren't born yet - we couldn't have you there if you were still not in the world", you tried to explain to him, but it was to no avail as he looked from comfort in your arms as he looked at a worried Charles.

"You didn't want us there with you? Everyone is there! Uncle Pierre, Uncle Lorenzo, Uncle Arthur, grandma! They're all there but we are not", he cried on your chest, making you coo at him and explain it to him again.

"We're going to celebrate our 10 year anniversary soon anyway, we could make something small in the garden", Charles suggested once you were back in your bedroom, "you in a pretty white dress, me in a nice summery suit, the kids and close family and friends", he smiled.

On the first weekend of the summer break, you stood in the garden, your friends and family presiding the ceremony as they told all different kinds of stories of your relationship and focusing on the first ten years of your marriage.

"Seeing these two become parents to those little ones", Pascale pointed with her eyes as Amélie waved at her, "has been the most beautiful journey I could wish for them. Charles, Y/N, you built a family in the pillars of unconditional love, affection and attention to your kids and never once did you fail the other - everybody faces challenges and you have fought together through them as I was sure you would and will anytime life presents them to you. I love you both so much, and here's to many more anniversaries", your mother in-law smiled.

"When is mama kissing papa?", Hervé butted in, making everyone giggle. The boy might have had a hard time grasping the timeline, but he definitely knew what needed to happen.

Charles put on a show, supporting your back with one arm as he left you fall, pressing his lips on yours as everybody cheered, "Je t'aime tellement, mon coeur".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

#charles leclerc blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hi. Could you write a rafe smut with 16 and 7 ‘’Be a good girl and spread your legs.’’ + ‘’Does that turn you on?’’

Here it is, part 2 of Rave x Thornton!reader (part 1 here)

Warnings: 18+, smut, p + v, mention of oral (f receiving)

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

It was past 1am when the boys came home from the club. Judging by the voices, Topper's 23rd birthday had been well celebrated. Your brother didn't abuse alcohol very often, but you could hear his drunk voice talking to Rafe in the hallway. 

 You laughed quietly. Happy birthday, Top!

You heard his door close, then shortly after Rafe's opened. He didn't turn on the big light, moving around in his bedroom as he was taking off his clothes and tossing them in a corner before going into his en-suite bathroom for a quick shower. 

When he came out of his shower, that’s when he noticed you in his bed. 

‘’What are you doing in here?’’ he asked, a white towel wrapped around his waist. 

You didn’t move from the comfort of his pillows. ‘’I told you I was taking your bed.’’

‘’I never agreed to that. Get out.’’ Rafe dropped his towel and opened one of his dresser’s drawers to pull out a pair of clean underwear. He didn't care that you saw anything. It was nothing you hadn't seen before - or tasted.

You propped yourself up on the pillows, grinning mischievously. ‘’Come on, Rafe, you’re really gonna kick me out at this hour of the night? I’m already in bed.’’

‘’I don’t care. I don’t let people sleep in my bed.’’ He walked to his bed and yanked the covers from you, catching the small matching pink pajama set you were wearing. It was hugging your figure in a way that made his cock twitch. ‘’Take a pillow and get out. I have shit to do in the morning.’’ 

‘’I’m not sleeping on the fucking couch,’’ you said stubbornly, tipping your head up to look at Rafe. 

The latter groaned, his patience wearing thin at this hour of the night. Without warning, he reached down and firmly grabbed your ankles, roughly pulling you towards the edge of the bed. 

You grabbed at the sheets, trying to resist his grip, but he was stronger. ‘’What are you doing—’’

‘’Getting you out myself.’’ 

‘’I'm not leaving,’’ you repeated, pushing at his hands and kicking your legs and feet. ‘’Let go of me, Rafe.’’ 

In the midst of your erratic movements, one particular hard pull made Rafe lose balance and topple over you on the bed. The scene felt right out of a cliché enemies to lovers rom-com. Your first instinct was to push him off you, but then it came to your realization that you could use this position to your advantage. 

‘’Let's make a deal,’’ you suggested, trying to ignore the heavy body on you. ‘’Earlier, we got interrupted before I could fulfill my second part of the agreement. So, how about I let you fuck me and you let me stay here?’’ 

‘’Absolutely no—’’ 

Before he could finish his sentence or get up, you pushed your hips up, purposely rubbing your bottom halves together. Although there was thin cotton separating both, the contact made Rafe groan — and his cock stiffen. He usually didn't get hard so fast, but the alcohol in his blood was making his hormones increase. 

‘’What was that? I didn’t hear,’’ you asked with a teasing smile, tilting your head to the side. 

A mix of desire and frustration filled the blue eyes looking down at you. He was trying to resist your advances, but Rafe was a guy and he was having a full on cock to brain dilemma. 

You gasp when his mouth crashed on yours. You won.

There was nothing slow or sweet about this kiss. It was rough and passionate and heated, just mouths smashing into each other. Exactly what you expected from Rafe Cameron after getting his patience tested by his best friend's little sister. 

His hand ghosted over your jawline, along the side of your neck, and then you felt him wrap it around your throat just lightly enough that you noticed it. Rafe broke the kiss, his blue eyes looking right into yours. No one ever did this to you, but you didn’t hate it. Your lips curled into a devilish grin, waiting for his next move.  

‘’I’m gonna show you how I deal with little bitches like you.’’ 

Rafe’s words had you dripping between your legs. Some girls preferred to be good, but it wasn’t your case. You liked to tease and get punished. 

He nudged your knees apart with his and you melted into his touch, mewling when he pressed against your clothed clit. ‘’Does that turn you on?’’ 

You pushed your hips against him to get more friction, but he removed his knee and stood to get a condom. One thing about Rafe was that he never hooked up with a girl bare. 

‘’This needs to come off,’’ Rafe said when he returned to the bed. He peeled off your pajama shorts and panties in one go. ‘’Be a good girl and spread your legs.’’ 

You spread your legs as wide as they’ll go, giving him the perfect view of how dripping wet your pussy was. Being completely exposed like this should be embarrassing, but if your legs could open wider, you would. You clenched around nothing, feeling Rafe's eyes on you.

‘’Look at that,’’ he said, giving your pussy a tap that echoed in the room. You squirmed at the contact, secretly wanting him to do it again. ‘’Looks better from the vip seat.’’ He then pulled at your pajama top up to free your tits and palmed your breasts as his fingers rolled your nipples, pinching it hard.

You hissed and his face bored the meanest smirk as he ripped the foil packet. He jerked himself a few times before rolling on the condom. 

You were about to be completely ruined. 

Rafe teased your clit with his tip, but plunged his cock into your cunt before you could push back against him for more. It would be a lie if you said it didn't hurt, your tight walls hugging every inch of his cock. 

You had been thinking of this since Topper interrupted you in the afternoon. How his cock would feel inside you. And now it was finally happening.

You grabbed at the bedsheets until the discomfort subsided, pleasure slowly taking over as Rafe began to thrust. You gasped in pleasure, clenching around him.  

He folded your legs for a deeper angle and groaned, looking down and watching his thick cock disappearing in and out of you. ‘’Such a good pussy. Surprised it’s still so tight after getting stretched out so often.’’

The urge to slap him was strong, but every thrusts felt so good that if you opened your mouth, only high pitched cries would come out. He may be an asshole, but the dick was good. 

Getting bored with this position, Rafe pulled out and flipped you over like a ragdoll, your bare ass raised in the air. You didn’t get time to register what was happening; Rafe wasted no time and began pounding you from behind, his big hands gripping your hips. You pressed your face in the mattress to muffle your moans, terrified that Topper would hear on the other side of the hallway. He was likely sleeping like the dead, but you didn’t want to risk it.

It was a matter of minutes before you felt close to your edge, the sounds of wet slapping of skin mixing with Rafe’s low groans echoing in the room. You reached below you to rub your throbbing neglected clit, but Rafe grabbed your hand with a vice grip and pushed you down on the mattress, holding you down as he pounded his last thrusts. 

When he was done, Rafe pulled out and threw the used condom in the trash, then flopped on his bed and pulled the covers over himself, leaving you there. ‘’Good night.’’ 

‘’Are you being serious?’’ 

Rafe looked at you, amused by how mad you looked. ‘’Aw, you haven’t cum yet?’’ 

You narrowed your eyes at him. He knew. He was doing this on purpose. 

‘’Get over here. Sit on my face, I’m tired.’’

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx  @sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife  @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue  @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker  @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage  @maybankslover @sunflowerziva @laylasbunbunny @Honey-marvel15 @leoluvsur-pappy @slytherhoes @kcskye123 @outerbanksacc  @pedrosprincess  @mikaelsonsstuff  @skyesthebomb  @a1mzcruml3y @iluurmom  @popeheywardssecretgf  @madelynie  @loverofdrewstarkey  @radiant-whore  @outsider-at-hogwarts @luci1fer @bbycowboi @rafecameronsbadussy @urbfsbitchlol @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @Veescorneroftheworld  @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @johannelis2302nely @lynbubble  @straberryshortcake143 @beth-gallagher22 @doestalker @rubyliquor @theflcwer @angelxxrose @sierraluvzz @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @sunnysunny133696  @under-seasoned-pasta @hoeforsirius  @buckyswhxre @emerald-09  @simonessolarsystem @rehead1180 @stvrkey

All and more taglist:  @kenqki  @hawkegfs  @gillybear17   @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade   @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff  @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #i have not reread this so i apologize

[norrizzandpia]

Edits (CL16)

Summary: When Carlos exposes Y/n watching edits of her boyfriend on Instagram. She’s incredibly embarrassed, but after an interesting conversation with the man himself, should she really be?

Warnings: nothing i dont think lmk tho

"Bye, baby! I'll see you in a little." Charles smiled down at his girlfriend as his thumb caressed the side of her face.

She smiled up at him, accepting the kiss he planted on her lips, before letting out a small "bye" and watching him walk out the door.

"I am not going to lie, Y/n. You are pretty cute together." Carlos said as he watched his partner walk out.

Y/n laughed before looking at her boyfriend's best friend, "Thank you? Did you not think that before?"

"Yes, I did. I just realized I never told you." He said, his accent bleeding into his voice and the smirk on his face deepening. Carlos had known how 'cute' they were from the start. He had endured the long rants from Charles about Y/n and how pretty she was. It had taken Charles so long to ask the girl out and when he finally had, Carlos almost threw his hands up and rejoiced. The poor monegasque had spent months pining over the girl and it was obvious she liked him too, but neither party took the chance. Until Charles did. Since then, the two had fallen in love, moved into together, and practically gotten engaged with how much they talked about their future together.

Y/n shook her head, a big smile evident on her face, as she took out her phone, prepared to waste an hour or two on her phone while she waited for her boyfriend to come back. After about 30 minutes on Instagram, she moved to TikTok. It was no secret Y/n found her boyfriend extremely attractive considering the multiple times she had shamelessly checked him out or said outloud how hot he was, however, the girl's 'For You Page' was something of another nature. Endless scrolling to find that the only videos were edits of Charles. She wouldn't ever like them, trying to keep a low profile, but she would move them to her favorites. Whenever Charles was away or they had a busy day and they hadn't seen each other, she would open that page of favorites and scroll for hours, reliving everything her boyfriend was and is. When she opened the app, she always tried to be alone, knowing what lied within the app's algorithm for her. Although, she had completely forgotten about Carlos who had moved to sit behind her at a table while they rested in Charles' racer suite. So, when the Spanish racer caught a glance of what his friend's girlfriend was watching over her shoulder, he had to hold in his laugh. Immediately, and with absolutely no hesitation, Carlos whipped out his phone and opened to his camera app. Taking a few second video of F1's favorite girlfriend watching thirst trap edits about her boyfriend was something he knew would be extremely funny and something that would go viral.

Clearly, Carlos could care less about the embarrassment Y/n would later hold.

Which she did. After a few minutes of Carlos having posted the video on his Instagram story, thousands had saw it and reposted it. Y/n was quick to turn around in her seat and see the mischievous grin laid out on the Spaniard.

"CARLOS!" She yelped, her phone waving around in her hand. He didn't say anything back, he just began to laugh. Hard.

The y/h/c haired girl's cheeks flushed as she groaned, knowing how much the rest of the paddock would tease her for this. Before either of them could say anything, the man of the hour strolled through the door.

"Hey, guys!" His smile melted Y/n's heart and she almost forgot all about the TikTok situation. Almost.

Charles' smile dropped as he saw the worry etched into the face of his girlfriend.

"What's wrong?" He said, his eyes frantically searching over her body.

"Charles, give me your phone." "Look at your Instagram." Both Y/n and Carlos said at the same time, making Charles eyes dart towards Carlos. Y/n glared at the man whose number was 55 and she silently pleaded, with her hands out, for Charles to give her his phone. She didn't know what she was going to do if he gave it to her, but it sounded something like deleting every app off his phone.

Charles gave a confused look to the two before his phone dinged. Y/n watched in horror and Carlos watched in amusement as Charles scrolled through his notifications before clickling his screen a few times and pausing, his warm smile being replaced by that toothy grin he gave Y/n when he thought she was cute as he looked at her through his lashes. Y/n hid her face in her hands before Charles broke the silence.

"Are you- Are you watching edits of me?" He said it in disbelief as he moved closer to her, giving Carlos a shooing motion which they both knew was him telling Carlos to get out of the room. Carlos listened, Y/n hearing shuffling as he exited the room. She felt Charles' warmth radiating towards her as he began to stand over her, slowly taking her hands in his and lowering them to her sides. When he could see her beautiful face, as he loved to call it, he brought her into his arms and kissed her forehead.

"Don't be embarrassed, ma chérie, it's cute. Plus, it's not like I don't do it too." Y/n's face scrunched up in confusion as she met his eyes that were already focused on her.

"You watch edits of yourself?" Charles only laughed at this before tightening his hold on her, pulling her flush against him.

"No, gioia mia, I watch edits of you." Her face was overtaken by more confusion.

There were edits of her?

"Yes, of course. People aren't blind, mon amour." It took her a second to understand that what she had thought in her head had come out of her mouth as well, but when she did, Charles was already taking out his phone and opening TikTok. She watched as he slid through the app to find his page of favorites. She scanned the rows of videos and found that they were all of her. She couldn't help the smile that began to find its way on her face as he continued to scroll down and proved that every video was of her.

He leaned down and kissed her, pulling away to look her in the eye as he said,

"What do you think I do when I'm away on my work trips?"

#f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine

[apoemaday]

Eurydice

by Carol Ann Duffy

Girls, I was dead and down in the Underworld, a shade, a shadow of my former self, nowhen. It was a place where language stopped, a black full stop, a black hole Where the words had to come to an end. And end they did there, last words, famous or not. It suited me down to the ground.

So imagine me there, unavailable, out of this world, then picture my face in that place of Eternal Repose, in the one place you’d think a girl would be safe from the kind of a man who follows her round writing poems, hovers about while she reads them, calls her His Muse, and once sulked for a night and a day because she remarked on his weakness for abstract nouns. Just picture my face when I heard -- Ye Gods -- a familiar knock-knock at Death’s door.

Him. Big O. Larger than life. With his lyre and a poem to pitch, with me as the prize.

Things were different back then. For the men, verse-wise, Big O was the boy. Legendary. The blurb on the back of his books claimed that animals, aardvark to zebra, flocked to his side when he sang, fish leapt in their shoals at the sound of his voice, even the mute, sullen stones at his feet wept wee, silver tears.

Bollocks. (I’d done all the typing myself, I should know.) And given my time all over again, rest assured that I’d rather speak for myself than be Dearest, Beloved, Dark Lady, White Goddess etc., etc.

In fact girls, I’d rather be dead.

But the Gods are like publishers, usually male, and what you doubtless know of my tale is the deal.

Orpheus strutted his stuff.

The bloodless ghosts were in tears. Sisyphus sat on his rock for the first time in years. Tantalus was permitted a couple of beers. The woman in question could scarcely believe her ears.

Like it or not, I must follow him back to our life -- Eurydice, Orpheus’ wife -- to be trapped in his images, metaphors, similes, octaves and sextets, quatrains and couplets, elegies, limericks, villanelles, histories, myths…

He’d been told that he mustn’t look back or turn round, but walk steadily upwards, myself right behind him, out of the Underworld into the upper air that for me was the past. He’d been warned that one look would lose me for ever and ever.

So we walked, we walked. Nobody talked.

Girls, forget what you’ve read. It happened like this -- I did everything in my power to make him look back. What did I have to do, I said, to make him see we were through? I was dead. Deceased. I was Resting in Peace. Passé. Late. Past my sell-by date… I stretched out my hand to touch him once on the back of the neck. Please let me stay. But already the light had saddened from purple to grey.

It was an uphill schlep from death to life and with every step I willed him to turn. I was thinking of filching the poem out of his cloak, when inspiration finally struck. I stopped, thrilled. He was a yard in front. My voice shook when I spoke -- Orpheus, your poem’s a masterpiece. I’d love to hear it again…

He was smiling modestly, when he turned, when he turned and he looked at me.

What else? I noticed he hadn’t shaved. I waved once and was gone.

The dead are so talented. The living walk by the edge of a vast lake near, the wise, drowned silence of the dead.

#poetry #carol ann duffy #eurydice

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Uncle Aegon said you threatened muña— threatened!❞

[ Aegon amusingly reveals to your children how his brother actually met you. ]

[ 2,272 ] | aemond targaryen x dr. wife!reader, modern au!

contains— no warnings, just fluff, innuendo - children (you & aems have four kids hsdhjsdhs) - aemond being a dick the first time he met you!! but within reason ig??? - you're a doctor, hon, cos you're so smart - aegon being the fun, shit-stirrer uncle help - hospital? accident but no graphic depictions.

a/n— enjoy my first fic mwa ♡ comment, like & reblog at will!

Every weekend, you spend your days with your mother in law and the rest of the family. Family— to your husband — is very important. Spending it surrounded not just you and your kids, but his mother, his siblings, and the afternoon sun casting a glow over the family home that he grew up in, through hells and heavens, was everything to Aemond Targaryen.

A few times a year, Aemond forgets his family also included his older brother.

Because when the birds are chirping, the music of the trees swaying in the breeze are calming, and you are lying on top of him on the hammock, lazily swaying about as he relished in the feel of your body on top of his, your warmth engulfing his senses, and a book he placed gently on top of your back— of course Aegon Targaryen was going to be the reason his oldest child and teenage daughter, was going to come thundering in big steps and a huff, smacking her hands to her hips and glaring at her father.

"You lied to me, daddy!" she half roared as she stopped right in front of him. Her siblings, like little ducks, followed suit as they clamoured all over the hammock, giggling at their mother who woke up from her drowsy reverie, blowing raspberries at them before turning amusedly at their daughter, then to Aemond.

"What'd you lie about, hon?" you asked with sleepy mirth in your eyes.

"Apart from Santa and the Easter Bunny incident, I have no idea." He kissed the top of your nose, then sighed, as you rose and untangled yourself from him, picking up your youngest, Daegon, only about four years old, murmurs of asking about his day and did he enjoy having tea with his grandma.

He then turned to his eldest daughters, impatience and betrayal exuding from them in spades (he often enjoyed how much his daughters resembled him; not so much in fiery-licked rage), and he sighed again before he turned to Valera, his eldest. "Can you elaborate better, little dragon? As far as I can remember, I have not lied to you since you were six."

"You said you met mom through Auntie Hel, you lied," your third child and eldest boy, Rhaegar, said with a happy little giggle as he hid from his father into the dress of your skirt, clinging to your leg. Both of you froze, you with a slow, widening smile as you realised the kids knew.

Aemond on the other hand, wasn't as amused. In fact, his entire soul froze.

"Who—"

"Uncle Aegon said you threatened muña, threatened!" your second daughter, Rhaella, shouted, eyes bugged out in disbelief. Rhaegar giggled again, no doubt remembering the chaos that ensued once their uncle told the magnificent story without his permission as his sisters lost their mind.

"I—"

Valera, often sweet and admired her father fiercely (she had three years of being an only child before Rhaella was born, and Aemond did not hold back in spoiling her), started to have tears in her eyes as his heart squeezed at the sight.

"You lied, daddy, how could you?" There was devastation in her voice that mirrored Aemond's, a panic growing deep in the pit of his stomach while you tried to muffle your snickers behind your youngest's head.

He would have glared at you if he didn't feel like he was about to lose his mind, instead employing his best 'please help me i will literally do anything you want' wide eye, before you chuckled, shaking your head as you put down Daegon who immediately plopped down on the ground, yanking grass. Rhaegar followed, trying to find bugs; a habit he formed by hanging out with Auntie Helaena.

As you keep a mindful peripheral eye on your boys, you gathered your daughters to you, they immediately latched to your torso as if they weren't thirteen and ten respectively, sniffling and glaring at their father as he was made public enemy number one.

You bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from bursting into laughter as his face sunk deeper into despair, standing up, unable to stay seated any longer, offering them open palms of mournful looks and piercing glares at the manor behind his girls where the reason for his current predicament was no doubt giggling like an idiot.

"My loves, tell me, what did Uncle Aegon actually tell you?" you ask soothingly, running your hands through their silver hair. They looked up at you mournfully, and you bit your lip harder as you realised they even looked like their father in this moment.

"H-he said," Rhaella sniffed. "That he was angry at you. At the hospital."

"And that he yelled at you!" Valera wailed, shooting his father a withering look that had Aemond sinking into himself before he shot his own withering look at the house again, murder in his eye.

"I did not yell at your mother, Valera."

Amused, you raised an eyebrow. "And what would you call it?"

He shot you a 'you're not helping' look as he ave a disgruntled little hum. "I wouldn't it call it 'yelling', my love, merely raising my voice."

At the sort of confirmation, Val and Rhae let out a hiccuped wail. Aemond begun marching back at the house, fingers flexing with a mutter of, I'm going to rip him from spleen to spine, break every bone in his body and stomp on his—

You jolt out your arm, grasping his, laughing lightly as you brought him close and gave him a peck to the corner of his lips. This abated him, if slightly.

"Please don't kill your brother at your mother's house," you whispered against his lips, grinning.

He rubbed your back, more a habit he used to keep himself in control, whispering back, "Wouldn't be the first attempt."

"Then don't kill your brother with your children present, and your wife, who is a doctor. It is literally against my Hippocratic Oath, darling."

"It's why you're the doctor, my love. My job is to defend our honour freely."

"I really think this is your honour instead of mine." You giggled against his lips as he groaned, and you turned back at your daughters who frowned at both of you. You smiled calmly at them. "Okay, okay, girls. I don't think your Uncle Aegon told you the full story. Let Kepa tell you, hm?"

"Is it a good story?" Rhaella asked, wide eyed. "I don't want to know it if kepa sucked."

"If kepa sucked, does that mean we're bastard children?" Val frowned. "Lyanna said bastard children happens when fathers suck, her father said so."

Aemond and you shared a look, his in alarm, yours in complete mirth, before you burst out laughing, unable to stop yourself anymore.

"What is with everyone saying things to children?!" Aemond inhaled deeply. "Please let me explain. It's a long, longer story than just me raising my voice at your mother. Very interesting that your Uncle Aegon left out the part that I was panicking because of your Aunt Helaena and Uncle Daeron."

"Ha?" Rhaella's eyes comically widened further as she pulled away from you and moved closer to her father. In relief, like a cartoon cat dangling the cheese in front of a mouse, Aemond pulled her hand gently until he managed to wound her arms over his torso. "What happened to Auntie and Uncle?"

"They got into an accident, dōna mēre sweet one," Aemond murmured against her head, palpable relief as he kept her close. Rhaegar, bored brought himself and his little brother to their father, until Aemond swept them the four of them into the hammock, Daegon giggling and blowing bubbles at his father's rearranging of them so they wouldn't fall.

"Wanna go?" you teased your eldest daughter who was squirming not being part of the little huddle. Aemond opened his arms, smiling hopefully. You laughed as Valera gave you a kiss to your chest and raced to her father and siblings, moving around until they all managed to fit together.

The tree creaked as you placed your hands on your hips, pouting at them playfully as Aemond met your gaze with a shit-eating proud smirk on his face.

"Come, ñuha prūmia my heart."

"And risk crashing and burning? No, thank you. Go tell your little story while I avenge your honour and maybe get lemon cakes."

At the chorus of 'me toos' and 'yays', Aemond mouthed 'I love you' before you disappeared off, and he turned to your kids, keeping them close to his ribcage; little pieces of his hearts that grew legs and arms.

"Okay, ñuha byka zaldrīzoti my little dragons, so it all started with an accident that was entirely your Uncle Aegon's fault. . ."

Your Uncle Aegon had borrowed your Uncle Daeron's motorcycle to get to a frat party because the girl he liked would be there— this is irresponsible, children, and this is why you shouldn't be riding motorcycles and going to frat parties, yes Val, it's not as cool as it looks — anyway, his car had a broken taillight and he forgot to had it changed or tell anyone.

Your Uncle Aegon... didn't return the bike— or returned back home for the rest of the night, yes Rhaella, it was because he was, um, reading with the girl all night, like your mom and I do when we go to bed, yes Rhaegar, like how we read to you but, um, just with them.

Anyway! Your Aunt Helaena's little pup at the time, Dreamfyre, yes, baby, Dreamfyre was a puppy before she was a big dog, just like you— Dreamfyre got sick, and since Uncle Daeron was at home and he had a bike, Hel asked him. But then they saw it was gone, they had no choice but to take your uncle's car. They didn't notice the taillights.

They were speeding through, which is bad, yes, don't speed, but this was an emergency and Uncle Daeron was doing his best to hit every red stoplight when they tried to go one way but the light didn't go on, and they got into an accident.

No, Rhaegar, they didn't die, you know this, your Uncle Daeron is with Auntie Nyra, remember? And Aunt Hel is just inside, don't cry, baby. Ok, so where were we? Right, accident.

I get the call and I was panicking, out of my mind. All they said was that both of my siblings were at the hospital, declaring your uncle's plate number and I just knew it was his fault. I was already pretty angry then, and I might have transferred most of that to your mom.

Your mom, at the time, was a resident. A first year resident so she still had bad hours, and at the time, her shift mate had gotten sick and no one was able to take her shift.

Yes, dōna mēre sweet one, the times when muña can't come home fast enough. Because she has to be at the hospital to save people.

That night, your mom had been awake for 32 hours. She was not having a good day. She had lost a patient that day too, but I didn't know that, hm? She was just trying to get through the rest of her shift, having finished checking up on your uncle, when I had barrelled through like an angry beast.

All I could really remember was that I couldn't see your Aunt Hel, and your Uncle Daeron was on the hospital bed with a cast on his foot, and your mom had just looked away when I... well...

"— When you started ranting like an absolute madman, demanding better care of your baby brother when he wasn't even wincing in pain, asking for a real doctor because I looked five shies away from having graduated high school," you said, grinning wide as you handed your procured lemon cakes, and outright laughing at Aemond's sheepish, flustered look as both of his girls stared at him wide eyed.

"Kepa, oh my god," Val murmured, munching on her pastry. "That is so bad."

"You had no game," Rhae continued, sort of perplexed about the reason for her conception. "How did mom ever like you?"

"I would've slapped you," Val confirmed, nodding. "Just like you told me I would do if boys acted stupid."

As you couldn't stop laughing so hard you were bent over, your boys found your joyous display wonderful, pushed and kicked around their father while their sisters yelled about their lemon cakes, before reaching your skirts and you started spinning them around, plopping on the ground not a minute later, snuggling your babies close.

Aemond breathed a laugh, pulling his daughters close. "I know, I know, it was so bad. I was actually impressed your mother didn't slap me."

"I wanted to strangle him with the dextrose!" you chirped. "But I made an Oath, so I didn't. But ohh, with that haughty look your father sometimes get when he thinks— no, when he knows he's right? When he doesn't even need to say I told you so, he's just smirking like it?"

At your daughters— even your darling Rhaegar's triple nods, Aemond made a hm of offense, lips flattening.

"I made you three," Aemond said.

You coughed.

"I helped make you three. This is betrayal," he declared before his hands found its way to your daughters sides and tickled them with no mercy. Crows of 'Kepa, please!' between giggles warmed your chest.

"Aemond," you chidded as Rhaella gasped, snorting, and he stopped.

"So how'd you make mom fall in love with you?"

You and Aemond shared a look, your entire life stretching with one warm gaze, and a smile stretches both of your lips. Its lovesick, and familiar to your kids. Rhaella coos at it, but Rhaegar, having favoured his Uncle Aegon, makes a gagging noise before you started tickling him too.

"He apologised," you said. "Took him several tries. Your Uncle Daeron was actually ready to be discharged by the third day. Your Kepa brought him everyday to have a 'check up'."

"Daddy... that is still so lame," Rhaella whispered, in awe of how dorky her father is. Val is hiding herself in shame.

"Got her to accept my apology, and say yes to a date, you two should be grateful," Aemond said smugly.

"Why, mom?"

"Well, he was handsome for one." You snorted at his smirk. "He was sweet for another, explaining he just panicked, and I could understand that. Also he groveled for a long, long while."

"Even after the first date?" Val asked, eyes owlish.

You smirked. "Oh, definitely."

"I did deserve it."

"You did."

He smirked. "But I charmed you anyway."

You rolled your eyes. "You did."

"Come and give me a kiss, my love."

"Ewwww!"

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 25 - Release the Ice Bath Thirst Traps

Ok guys! here we go!

TAG LIST IS CLOSED (sorry for those who have asked)

For the very end of the chapter, there's something I made up for Singapore (this fact is made up just for the story)

Like always comments, questions, concerns, inbox messages, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! Love you all and enjoy :D

The moment you stepped out of the cool, airconditioned car, your team shirt suddenly clung to you. Beads of sweat dripped from your forehead as you made your way through the paddock. Max had warned you that Singapore and Qatar would be impossibly hot: you just didn’t think it’d be this bad. 

All you wanted to do now was go back to the hotel where it was ice cold. You wiped your brow with your forearm as you got closer to the garage. Giant fans welcomed you with air. It wasn’t freezing cold, but it would do. You were already on your third water today, smartly forgoing the Red Bull that was bound to make you dehydrated. 

You stood next to Max as the team had a quick debrief. The heat was definitely getting to you, as you really couldn’t remember a word that anyone said. You blink your eyes as they were burning with sweat. Your older teammate could only offer you a remorseful smile. 

Max could see that the heat wasn’t going too well with you. You had told him beforehand that some females, including you, just couldn’t regulate their temperatures as well as males could. Women often gave off more body heat than men did as well. This caused the Dutchman to send out a group text, warning the other drivers to look out for you. 

You groaned as you tried to put on your fireproofs and race suit. The more you moved around, the more you seemed to sweat. You kept your suit tied around your waist. You definitely wouldn’t be putting it on until you had to be in the car.

Max was already zipped up by the time you returned. 

“Here.” He handed you another ice cold water bottle. 

“Thank you Max,” you croaked out, making the Dutchman look a little weary at you. You just smiled back. 

“Once we qualify, we can go to the ice baths.” 

Max would have thought that you would hate the idea since you always showered with the water at a boiling temperature. Yet, he could see that you were slightly “warming up” to the idea of a bath full of ice (pun intended). 

From the corner, Mitch watched as you poured the remainder of your water on your head. She had requested a few ice packs to be ready for you when you arrived, but sadly they weren’t completely frozen. She’d make sure that you’d have them for tomorrow. 

Surprisingly, your laps were great with you qualifying in P3, behind Charles once again. Halfway through, you had opened your visor, trying to get some air through your sweaty helmet. Your water pouch had to be refilled multiple times between sessions. Yet, your trainer advised you to try not to drink so much during the race, as they wouldn’t be able to refill. 

Mitch had come over to your car as soon as you were back in. You gave her a big smile as you started to get out of the car. 

“How are you doing kid?” 

You took a moment to look at her outfit. Where a pantsuit should have been, there was a Red Bull Tank top and some very loose pants. You were jealous that she got to wear those while you were stuck with skin tight clothes. 

You gasped a bit for some cooler air once your helmet was off. 

“I’m good. Max said something about an ice bath?” 

Your eyes were faintly glimmering with hope for something to cool you down. Mitch smiled at you. 

“Yep. I put a change of clothes on your bed, but I think you need some help?” 

You nodded at her question before heading to your room. You didn’t want to waste any time getting out of your suit. 

The zipper came off smoothly. Mitch definitely saw that you had sweated through your fireproofs and felt terrible. Surely, there was something that the team could do. 

You giggled. “I’ve probably already lost a few pounds.” 

Mitch rolled her eyes at the terrible joke. If anything, there was truth in that statement. She had seen the numbers after you got weighed and you had lost a lot. 

“Well, there will be lots of food for you to fill up on.” 

“I hope we’re not going to go over the catering budget again.” 

Mitch let out a snort as she helped you out of the sticky fire proofs. She pulled out a bag and handed it to you. You grinned at the sight of the limited clothes in the bag. 

“I didn’t think that you’d want to go out in full bikini, so there’s a sports bra and some spandex shorts. I’ll wait for you by your door and will walk you to the back.” 

Once Mitch left, you quickly peeled the rest of your clothes off. The sports bra and spandex were all black, and covered everything that needed to be. You said a quick thank you to her in your mind as you got dressed. Your skin was definitely cooler with no clothes to stick to, but you were still sweating. 

You swung the door open. 

“Ready to go?” you asked, giving her the bag back with your other clothes. They would definitely need to be washed by tomorrow. 

You followed the woman to the back, going through multiple doors. Once she opened the door to the little outside area, your eyes landed on Max, who was already soaking. His eyes were closed as he leaned his head back on the tub. 

Yours was a bit more like a giant trough, filled to the brim with ice. 

Mitch spoke as you got closer. “We thought that you’d need more ice, hence why yours is bigger. It’s also more insulated with the metal than the plastic. Do not stay in more than 15 minutes. We don’t need your temperature dropping too much.” 

You tossed your foot over and gingerly place a toe in, just to get a feel for it. The temperature was perfect and you found yourself sinking into the ice. 

“You think it’s ok if I dunk my head?” you asked Max. 

He didn’t even bother to open his eyes. 

“Go for it kid.” 

You held your breath as you sunk below the ice layer. Your brain went a bit fuzzy as the freezing water went over your scalp. You let your eyes open under the water, just to feel the cold and relieve the stinging. 

Once you came up gasping for air, Max finally looked over. 

“Had fun?” He laughed a bit. 

You lovingly flipped him off. Your hands came and brushed your hair back. You looked over at Max’s plastic pool, and saw ducks in his. You pouted once you realized that you didn’t have any. 

“What’s wrong kid?” the Dutchman asked at the sight of your pout. 

You murmured, “I didn’t get any ducks.” 

Max rolled his eyes before gently throwing one of his ducks into your pool. Your eyes immediately lit up as you began to play with it. Max just watched as you found so much joy in something so little. You felt his gaze and you guessed that you needed to say something. 

“I never had a rubber duck growing up. It’s so cute.” 

You held the little yellow thing in your hands, right in front of your face. Max had a sad smile as he watched. 

“You have plans for after the race?” 

You sighed as you let the duck rest on the water, not breaking the surface tension. 

“Logan, Oscar, and Lando wanted to go see the city and I said I’d join them. Something about needing a good drive around Singapore.” 

Max snorted. Of course the group of three would want to invite you. The door opened, which had the two of you whip your heads to it. 

“Oh, hey David,” you greeted the photographer. You sank back into the ice, still enjoying the cold. Max groaned when he realized what David was there for. 

You smirked as you looked over at your teammate. “Ready to do some thirst traps Max?” 

The Dutchman rolled his eyes. “Let’s leave that for Ferrari and Lando.” 

You giggled at the statement. “Yeah, I would rather not show much on screen. Taken woman and all.” 

That time, Max laughed. 

David looked apologetic. “Just need to get some pictures. Trust me, this isn’t my favorite.” 

He took some pictures while you and Max tried to look as non-sexy as possibly. You definitely tried to sneak some goofy facial expressions in. You kept your whole body submerged and thankfully the ice kept anyone from seeing much below your neck. David quickly thanked the two of you for your time before leaving. 

“Instagram is going to have a field with those.” 

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing splish, splash - racers in the ice baths

liked by arthur_leclerc, y/n.nation, rookie&maxie, landonorris, and 846,294 others

redbullfan what the heck is this?? this was not the thirst traps we wanted

maximillian he's giving "moto-moto likes you"

y/n.nation everyone is focused on the lack of thirst-traps, I'm just focused on the amount of ducks that Red Bull has

oscarpiastri what are your duck's names?

landonorris probably can't top cold, as, and fuck y/n.89 max's is James Pond and mine is Duck Norris landonorris my son?? y/n.89 no - something american so you won't understand logansargeant DUCK NORRIS RAWWRRRRR

rookie&co BOOOOOO TOMATOES TOMATOES TOMATOES

f1fan I know admin is hiding the thirst traps

charles_leclerc no thirst traps?

maxverstappen1 we leave that to you and the Spaniard y/n.89 I mean, I could be sexy if I wanted carlossainz55 sure chica, sure y/n.89 who is single? and who is taken maxverstappen1 HA

iamred_iamyellow ducks, ducks, ducks, ducks

You snorted at the Dutchman’s bluntness. 

The timer on the wall signaled that it was time to get out. You let out a giant groan as you stood and climbed over. 

Mitch came in with two big towels. One for you and one for Max. Your skin was finally covered with goosebumps instead of sweat. You quickly had an idea as you walked back to put normal clothes on. 

“You think I could dunk my head in before I get in the car? I think my wet hair will keep my head cooler if I do. It’s something about heat escaping through your scalp when you overheat. If it’s covered by my balaclava and my helmet, it can’t escape.” 

Mitch finished your thought process. 

“So if you wet your hair, your scalp can be cooler longer.” 

You nodded before heading into your room. 

“Ah, Max wanted me to hand this to you.” 

It was a normal Red Bull polo, which made your brows pinch in confusion. But, you shrugged and took it anyways. 

However, once you started changing you realized that the shirt was almost three sizes too big. Yet, you grinned as you put it on. Since it was oversized, it wasn’t sticking to your skin as you started to sweat a little. 

The crew laughed a bit at the sight of the giant shirt almost swallowing you. But, you didn’t care about that. You were significantly cooler and you could follow the last debrief of the day. 

Sunday night came and went super-fast, and you were thankful this time around. You were definitely more cool that you had been for qualifying. Mitch had sent the ice vest to you early, so you didn’t start off too warm. With your hair being dunked in ice water, your head was cooler during the race. The little bit of breeze that you got helped as well. 

That bit really helped you stay focused as you gained another podium. Surprisingly, this was Max’s first time winning in Singapore. Adrian really made sure that the car could keep up with the street race and not end it like 2023. Charles came in a very close second. 

Charles and Max poured their champagne bottles onto your overheating body. Halfway through you needed to sit down. Your body was slowly becoming even more dehydrated and hot as the minutes passed by. You were kind of held by Max as the three of you left the podium. 

The Dutchman had a worried grip on your bicep as he held you upright. He needed to get you some water, quickly. You thankfully weren’t on the verge of passing out, but he knew you were thirsty. He heard your radio toward the end where you were just begging for a drink. Max couldn’t imagine being without water, but he normally didn’t drink as much while racing. 

He gently set you on a seat in the garage, before turning away to get some things. Your eyes were closed as you sat right under a fan. Max soon returned with a cooling towel and three bottles of water.

The cold of the towel made your eyes open as he put it on your neck. Your race suit was tied around your waist and your fireproof shift had been swapped for a thin, random oversized shirt. Max gently cooed as you leaned into the cold water bottle on your face. 

“There you go,” he whispered as you finally were able to take big gulps of water. He unscrewed one of the other bottles before he lightly tipped it over your head. Streams of water ran down your face as you finished off the water bottle. 

The team was glancing at the two of you. In the back of their minds, they were worried about how you’d react to Qatar, which was way worse. However, they held on to some hope that it would be cooler than last year due to it being moved later on the race calendar. 

Your water bottle was on in moments. You flashed a smile at your worried teammate. 

“Thanks,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath after guzzling. 

Mitch came from the back with another woman who was holding a device. Mitch kneeled next to Max and put her hand on your knee. 

“Hey kid, we just want to make sure that you’re okay. Brianna here is going to take your blood pressure and other vitals just to be safe.” 

You only nodded and leaned your head against the wall. The medic made quick work and started to strap the device on. Max stood up and walked a bit away, just to give everyone some space. His eyes caught glimpses of orange, red, and blue and he could only guess who it was. He took one more glance at the situation before walking out of the garage. 

Logan, Charles, Lando, and Oscar were waiting patiently by the opening. They all looked up once they heard Max walk out, but deflated when they realized it wasn’t the Red Bull driver they were looking for. 

“Is she doing okay?” Charles asked first, concerning the other three boys. 

Lando put his arms out, stopping any conversation. 

“What does he mean by ‘is she doing ok?’ Where’s Y/n?” the Brits voice going more high pitched the more he started to panic. 

Max sighed. “She’s just having a hard time with the heat. She got super dehydrated this weekend and really couldn’t get over it.” 

He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. 

“They’re just checking vitals I think, to make sure everything is ok.” 

Logan sighed loudly in concern. He definitely knew what it was like, getting memories from Qatar 2023. 

The American asked, “Is she going to race in Qatar?” 

Max blinked slowly before answering. “She wants to. The team is really hoping that it’s going to be significantly cooler than last year. And they know to get her started on hydration much earlier. I talked to her physio and she thinks that Y/n’s diet also wasn’t right.” 

Oscar raised his eyebrows. “Diet?” 

Max nodded. “Yeah. She was apparently eating foods that might dehydrate the body, like lots of salt. Her physio said that she’ll start her on more fruits and water heavy foods way in advance. And drinks as well, more electrolytes.” 

Lando nodded in agreement. “I remember when I had to do that. They took away my chips for like….months.” 

They had been so into talking that they didn’t notice that you had walked out, now changed into shorter shorts and a bigger top (one that Charles strangely recognized as one of his brother’s shirts). 

“Are we ready to go?” you asked, getting closer. “Lando is driving because I am done for today.” 

The boys looked a bit guilty at your tired face. 

Oscar spoke up first. “We don’t have to go driving if you don’t want to. We know you’re probably tired.” 

You waved your hands and made a sound. “Nope, I’m good. Nothing will ever beat the one time I spent an entire summer on a farm in the middle of Texas.” 

You pretended to shiver at the thought, making the group laugh. 

Charles suddenly remembered why he was there in the first place (well, second because he was worried about you after the podium). He handed you a small bag. Opening it up, you saw a bright colored water bottle. You raised your eyebrow in question. 

The Monegasque smirked. “From you know how.” 

Your face practically melted at the loving gesture as you looked at it. Lando, Oscar, and Logan suddenly got the memo. 

Logan wrapped an arm around you first. “Aww such a sweet little boyfriend.” 

Oscar looked at Lando. 

“Where’s my water bottle?” he mocked whined, batting his eyelashes at the Brit. Your rolled your eyes. 

Lando put his arms around the Aussie. “Don’t worry love, it’s in the car.” 

The Brit puckered his lips before pretending to lean in. You just watched with an annoyed grin on your face. You looked at Max and Charles and winked, the Dutchman and Monegasque getting what you were about to do. You shrugged Logan’s arm off before taking a step toward your teammate. 

But, you purposefully made your knees buckle and fell into Max and Charles’s waiting arms. Lando and Oscar shut up quickly, before yelling that you needed help. Except that they heard your giggles as Max put you back on your feet. 

“I was just kidding.” 

The trio huffed. 

Logan murmured, “That was not funny.” 

Charles snorted. “Oh but it was. Should have seen your faces.” 

Your giggled died out before you asked, “Are we ready to go? I think I’ll melt if I stand out here for any longer.” 

Lando flicked your forehead. “We were just waiting on you.” 

The four of you said your goodbyes to Max and Charles before heading to the parking lot. Somehow, Logan got his hands on a Jeep to take the four of you somewhere. And, he was even able to get the top off. And because he claimed it was an all American brand, Logan begged Lando to let him drive it. Lando reluctantly handed over the keys. 

You claimed earlier that you needed shotgun, because “men can’t be passenger princesses.” Oscar and Lando tried to disagree. 

The breeze from outside in addition to the cool air-conditioning from the car was perfect. You let everyone have their turn with the aux, praying that they wouldn’t pick anything too embarrassing.  

Oscar ripped the phone out of your hands when Logan tried to request Free Bird again.

The Aussie sighed as the American whined. 

“We are not having another shirt ripped or a speeding ticket.” 

You laughed as Logan tried to hit Oscar in the back. At an empty road, Lando grabbed his camera. 

“Bug, put your head out the window real fast.” 

You did as suggested and smiled toward the camera that Lando was holding. 

Immediately you had a sense of déjà vu. Except this time, it was actual friends in the car and not just your manager. You thought back to how far you’ve come since the night before going to Milton. 

Lando laughed as he looked at the camera. 

He spoke, “This reminds me about the time that me and my friends were driving around and then this car pulled up next to ours. They were blasting What Makes You Beautiful and there was this girl in the front seat.” 

Your cheeks were becoming warm as Lando kept telling the story: that was definitely about you. Lando kept blabbing about the night. 

“And then the next morning, I got out of my hotel elevator and I think the same girl literally bulldozed me over. Didn’t say sorry or anything. I just thought it was funny, she seemed like she was in a rush.” 

Logan was laughing at the story, but got concerned at your flushed appearance and sudden quietness. 

“You alright champ? Do we need to get you some more water?” 

At the sound of the question, Lando and Oscar were leaning up, trying to look to see if you were going to actually pass out. Lando was already on his phone, trying to bring up Max’s contact to call just in case. 

However, you started laughing, making the trio at ease. You tried to cover your giggles with your mouth. You had this bright look in your eyes. 

“That was actually me Lando. Sorry about that.” 

Lando’s jaw dropped at the reveal. 

You gave a half shrug. “Arthur was waiting for me in my hotel room and I was excited to see him.” 

Logan’s and Oscar’s shoulders were shaking as they kept laughing at Lando’s facial expressions. The Brit huffed and crossed his arms, mouth formed into a pout. 

“You owe me a race win now.” 

“Excuse you?”

“You heard me.” 

“Uh, guys?” Logan asked, but you and Lando ignored him. 

“Get your own race win. You’ve done it before.” 

“Cause Max crashed out.” 

“That’s not true.” 

“Guys?” Oscar’s voice also sounded, worry in his tone. 

“Lando, it’s really not that hard. You just go around him.” 

“It’s a tractor versus a rocket ship. One cannot simply just go around.” 

“GUYS!” 

“What?” you and Lando yelled at the same time. Once the car was silent, you finally noticed that it had stopped moving. 

“Logan why aren’t you driving?” 

You looked at the American, who was slightly shaking while looking in the rearview mirror. Your eyes glanced at it, blue and red lights reflecting through the glass. You looked behind you and saw the source. 

“Ah shit.”

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 Alexa, play free bird by lynard skynard

liked by maxverstappen1, georgerussell63, redbullrocket, and 725,028 others

box_box_express oh thank goodness she's out

y/n.nation you think she jailbreaked?

georgerussell63 good to see that I don't need to pull up any power point presentations on why you four shouldn't go to jail

y/n.89 good to know that you have one ready? landonorris you think that we'd actually get arrested?? logansargeant oh yee of little faith oscarpiastri it was already ready???????

change_ur_f-car BAHAHAHAHAH I'M DEAD - ARRESTED RACE CAR DRIVERS FOR BEING IN A CAR

formulalala_delulu this whole race/day was a fever dream

christianhorner good to see you not in cuffs kid

y/n.89 good to not be in cuffs maxverstappen1 rookie arrest before I was y/n.89 HA I BEAT MAX VERSTAPPEN IN EQUAL MACHINERY landonorris oh that's not...ok

lestappenlove your honor I love them

Race Results

Max Verstappen - 25 points

Charles Leclerc - 18 points

Y/n L/n - 16 points (fastest lap)

Carlos Sainz - 12 points

Oscar Piastri - 10 points

Alex Albon - 8 points

Lando Norris - 6 points

Logan Sargeant - 4 points

Pierre Galsy - 2 points

Daniel Ricciardo - 1 point

Champions Standings

Max Verstappen - 334 points

Charles Leclerc - 304 points

Y/n L/n - 223 points

Lando Norris - 196 points

Carlos Sainz - 157 points

Oscar Piastri - 140 points

Lewis Hamilton - 113 points

Alex Albon - 70 points

George Russell - 65 points

Fernando Alonso - 45 points

Logan Sargeant - 44 points

Daniel Ricciardo - 26 points

Lance Stroll - 17 points

Pierre Gasly - 14 points

Valtteri Bottas - 13 points

Yuki Tusnuoda - 9 points

Zhou Guanyu - 1 point

Nico Hulkenberg

Kevin Magnussen

Esteban Ocon

Constructors Standings

Red Bull - 557 points

Ferrari - 461 points

McLaren - 336 points

Mercedes - 178 points

Williams - 114 points

Aston Martin - 62 points

Alpha Tauri - 35 point

Alpha Romeo - 14 points

Alpine - 14 points

Haas - 0 points

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @fly-me-away @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @33-81 @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

#f1 x driver!reader #f1 imagine #platonic grid x reader #f1 x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #formula 1 x you #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #alex albon x reader #new twitch quartet?? #lewis hamilton x reader #george russell x reader #fernando alonso x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 edition #formula 1 imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x female reader

[honeyedmiller]

A Burning Desire part one

firefighter!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: joel miller au, fluff, mutual pining, reader is a tad bit shy, sort of a slow burn, tons of flirting, reader gets into a serious car accident (but they’re fine i promise), mentions of minor cuts, bruises and disorientation from car accident, brief mentions of blood, no use of y/n. some descriptions of the car accident may not be suitable for everyone to read, so please be weary of this if you choose to read on.

word count: 3.1k

synopsis: you meet a handsome firefighter on a day where everything just feels… different.

a/n: would you believe me if i said this au has been in my drafts since october of last year? it’s a miracle i actually finished it. i scrapped the first idea i had for this au and switched it to this instead. hope you enjoy!

divider by @saradika-graphics

Today wasn’t like most days. 

Something had felt off. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but a feeling was there, idling in the depths of your very being. 

Maybe it was the way the summer sun was actually shining instead of a roaring thunderstorm rolling through Austin. Maybe it was the way you’d woken up to the sound of mourning doves, the birds you swore you hadn’t heard since childhood. Maybe it was the pleasant walk you had taken to your local café, multiple strangers smiling at you along the way. 

Or, maybe, it was the handsome stranger behind you in line at the café that had caught your eye. 

You didn’t mean to look intentionally. You just happened to have wandering eyes, enjoying the cozy atmosphere of Rosemary’s Roastery before your gaze settled on him—the incredibly handsome stranger behind you in line. 

You did a once-over, subtlety not your strong suit today. You immediately noticed he was in navy blue slacks with a black leather belt holding them up at his waist, and a navy blue shirt with Austin FD printed on the upper left corner. 

So he was a firefighter. 

His kind brown eyes caught yours, and time fucking stopped when he smiled at you. You felt your face heat, tossing him a shy smile before turning back around. 

The barista called you up to the counter, and after you gave her your order, you quietly asked if you could pay for the gentleman behind you. She nods with a smile and you wait at the other end of the counter for your drink. 

You watch as the firefighter orders his drink, bewilderment crossing his features when the barista told him his drink had already been paid for. He nods slowly with a smile, tucking his wallet back into the front pocket of his slacks. 

He walks over to the other end of the counter, a shoulder length away from you before turning to you. 

“You didn’t have to do that, darlin’.” His sweet Southern accent dripped like honey through your veins, warming you in a way you didn’t think was possible. 

“It was– uh– no big deal.” You shrug, and he chuckles before crossing his arms over his chest. 

Christ was he broad. His thick biceps strained against the navy blue fabric of his shirt, tan skin glowing under the soft lighting of the café. 

The veins on his forearms were prominent when he flexed his arms with every subtle move. And, god, he was so tall. 

Aside from his dark brown eyes, he had a defined jaw that was sprinkled with graying stubble and a mustache above his dark pink lips to match. His nose was strong and angular; something of a Greek god himself. His hair was dark brown with grays strewn in, the only indicator of his age. If you had to guess, it’s between mid thirties to early forties. 

He quirked a brow at you, hiding his amusement poorly as you checked him out. 

Yeah, subtlety definitely wasn’t your strong suit at all. 

“So what’s your name?” He asks, and you open your mouth to speak before the barista calls your name out to indicate your drink was ready. You sheepishly smile up at him as you thank her and grab your iced coffee. 

“Guess that answers that,” He chuckles, holding out his hand. You slot your hand in his and he gives yours a shake. “I’m Joel.” 

The barista called his name as well, and he thanked her as he grabbed his coffee. 

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” You pull him back in for conversation, deciding to throw all of your shyness behind you. “So, firefighter?” You ask, and he looks confused for a split second before he looks down at his t-shirt. 

He rolls his eyes at himself with a huff of a laugh. “Was thinkin’ you were psychic for a second before I realized my uniform says it clear as day.” He laughed at himself, and it was incredibly infectious. 

You couldn’t help but admire the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. You were so enamored by someone you just met, allowing yourself to indulge in the warm feeling you got in your belly when you talked to him. Never in your life have you experienced this, but the way he made you feel just a few minutes into some small talk had you yearning for him to stick around. 

“My brother and I joined the academy together and now we work at the same station.” He’s thoughtful when he speaks, a telltale sign that him and his brother might be close. 

“That’s really cool. Bet it’s fun working beside him.” You say lamely, internally cringing at yourself for your awful attempt at flirting. 

He doesn’t seem to notice, and thank god for that. 

“It is, when he’s not bein’ a pain in my ass.” 

“Younger brother I’m assuming?” You guess, and Joel looks at you quizzically. 

“Alright, y’sure you’re not psychic or somethin’?” 

You smile and shake your head. “Not at all, Joel. Just good at picking up context clues.” 

“What about the one where I was gonna ask a gorgeous stranger for her number?” His teasing tone warms you, and you bite your lip to suppress the face-splitting smile that was threatening to spill onto your lips. 

“Who’s the stranger? Lucky girl she is.” You play along. 

“Some kind samaritan who decided to pay for my much needed coffee this fine summer morning.” He hums, leaning against the wall next to him. 

“Mm. In that case,” You reach over to the section with the fixings for drinks, grabbing a napkin. You pull a pen out of your purse before scribbling your name and number on the napkin, handing it to Joel. “There you are.” 

He waves the napkin in between both of your bodies, eyes alight with happiness. 

“Definitely usin’ this to text the gorgeous stranger n’ ask her on a date.” 

“Lucky girl. Hope she’ll say yes.” You nudge him softly. 

“I hope she does too,” He grins, looking down at his watch-clad wrist—green band with a black and gray face. His brow furrows and he sighs, taking another sip of his coffee. “‘M real sorry darlin’ I gotta jam. My shift starts in twenty minutes.” 

“No worries, Joel. Hope you have a good shift.” 

“Thank you darlin’. I’ll keep in touch.” He holds up the napkin with a smirk, turning to walk out of the front door. 

You watch as he walks to his truck before exiting the side door, walking back to your apartment. 

-

“Does this mean you have a date for my wedding?” Your sister asks excitedly on the other end of the receiver. 

“Seriously? I just met this man today.” You roll your eyes and continue jotting down grocery items you need to stock up on on a pad of paper. 

“So what? If you guys hit it off that quick then maybe he’d wanna tag along.” 

“You do realize that he’d have to meet the whole family, right? I wouldn’t subject him to that. Plus, we’re getting too ahead of ourselves. I don’t even know if this is gonna go anywhere yet.” 

“Oh come on. Live a little. Let yourself be happy for once, sis.” Your sister is persistent, you’ll give her that. 

“I was fine being single before our small interaction this morning, and I’ll be fine at your wedding without a date too. I’m fine.” Which is sort of true, sort of a lie. You didn’t mind being single, because, hell, it had its perks. 

But another part of you—deep, deep down in the depths of your being, so badly wanted someone to give a shit about you in a romantic sense. You yearned for someone to hold you, someone to do cheesy shit with, someone that you could call home. 

Your sister sighs on the other end of the line. “I know you’re Miss Independent and all, but you need to learn to let go of the reins a little bit. The world won’t end if you give up an ounce of control.” 

You hated when she was right. Your sister, being a few years older than you, always had the superiority complex with I told you so’s plastered across her forehead. 

You couldn’t deny the truth, though, and the truth was you really needed to let yourself have this. Let go and unashamedly let this kind, handsome man take you out on a date. Let him sweep you off your feet. Let him treat you right, because it’d been few far and between since a man has done that for you. 

If the way you felt around him this morning was any indication that you should just relinquish control, that was it. 

“Fine. But I’m still not inviting him to your wedding.” 

And your sister laughs heartily, making you crack a small smile. 

“Right. I gotta go, but keep me updated on him!” 

“I will. Love you.” And she says it back, hanging up the phone. You sigh and stare down at your grocery list, continuing where you left off. 

Not even five minutes later, your phone buzzed again. A text from an unknown number. 

Unknown number: 

This wouldn’t happen to be the pretty stranger I met at Rosemary’s this morning, would it? ;)

You laugh at the text, biting to suppress a growing smile as you type a response. 

You: 

Depends, is this the handsome firefighter who put the number on the napkin to good use? 

You saved the number under ‘Joel’, finishing off your list before you received another text. 

Joel: 

Sure is, sweetheart. Although I wouldn’t necessarily say ‘handsome.’ Glad to know the number you gave me wasn’t fake. 

You: 

Me? Give you a fake number? Now that would just be downright stupid of me, wouldn’t it? 

Joel:

Stupid how? 

You: 

Why would I give up an opportunity to get to know a (yes, very handsome, by the way) man such as yourself? 

Joel:

You flatter me, sweetheart. I’m glad we met this morning. 

You can’t contain your smile anymore, having half a mind to drive down to the fire station to see him in person again. 

You: 

I’m glad we did too, Joel. 

Joel:

Watcha up to right now? 

You: 

Heading for the grocery store :) I need to restock a bunch of stuff. How’s your shift going? 

You double check your purse for everything you need before you stuff your grocery list and phone into your bag, grabbing your keys before locking up and heading out. 

The drive to the grocery store was only ten minutes. Emerald Eyes by Fleetwood Mac softly played through the speakers in your car, and you wondered briefly what kind of music Joel liked to listen to. You smile softly at yourself at the thought of him once more, shaking your head as the light turned green. You had to get a grip. 

And then, halfway through the intersection, a loud crash had sounded. It took you several seconds as shock and adrenaline coursed through your body that you realized you were the one who got hit. You hit your head on the driver’s side window, a throbbing pain nearly unbearable sprouting within seconds. Your car spun out, glass shattering everywhere and airbag deploying as you gripped onto the steering wheel for dear life.

“Shit shit shit!” You cry, and once your car was at a stand still, you tried your hardest to look out at the scene to decipher what happened. You know your light was green, so someone must’ve run the red. 

Other civilians pulled over and gathered around the accident, and you hoped someone was calling 911. Your vision became blurry as your head was pounding, and you groaned in pain as you tried to open the driver’s side door of your car. Your limbs felt like steel. You were shaky as you attempted to shove at your door, but you realized the door was stuck. You were trapped in your car. 

Panic started to seize your whole body until you heard the faint wail of sirens. 

Good. Someone called for help. Good. Good good good, you repeated in your head. 

The sirens started to get closer, and you heard people shouting once the firetruck, ambulance, and cops arrived on the scene. 

Joel’s seen many nasty accidents before. The most gruesome, heart wrenching things nobody should ever have to see. 

And yet, he didn’t feel panicked when he was rescuing people, being the hero everyone claims he is. But when he saw that the woman who got hit was you, he started to internally panic. He seized up at the sight of you with tears in your eyes, blood dripping down the side of your face from the cuts of shattered glass. 

“We gotta get her out of there. Tommy, hand me the jaws.” 

“Joel, we need to wait for Cap’s orders.” 

“I’ll get them myself.” Joel grits, passing by his Captain to grab the jaws. 

“Miller, what are you doing?” His Captain asks, and Joel looks at the man. 

“I know that woman in that car. Her door is stuck.” Joel’s desperate eyes trail back to your totaled car, and his Captain nods.

“Have Tommy help you.” He says, and Joel nods. Joel motions for Tommy to follow him. 

“Hey sweetheart,” You hear Joel’s voice, and you swear you’re hallucinating until you see he approaches your car in a hurry. “We’re gonna get you out, okay? I promise you’ll be out soon.” 

His voice is soothing, and a sob leaves your throat at his familiar, kind face. 

“You’re gonna hear some loud creakin’ but it’s jus’ me gettin’ the door open.” He warns, and a few seconds later you hear the loud groan of metal being pried with something sturdy. The door pops open a minute later, and Joel reaches over to unbuckle your seatbelt before lifting you out of your car. His muscles ripple beneath you even through all of his gear, careful not to jostle you too much. He didn’t know the extent of your injuries, but he was hoping they weren’t too bad. 

“Hey, you’re okay darlin.’ I got ya. Let’s let the EMT’s check you out to make sure you’re okay.” Joel places you on a stretcher while the EMT’s get to work, asking you a bunch of questions that you try to answer. You’re still a bit shaken up, but they concluded that you’d be fine. You only had a few cuts and bruises, and they cleaned up the blood swiftly. 

You were fine to walk, so Joel gently draped a blanket over your shoulders as you sat on the ambulance’s bumper. He sat down beside you and sighed as you both looked out to the other car that hit you. A police officer came up to you and asked for your information, letting you know the person who hit you was texting and driving. 

“Are they okay?” You ask the officer, and she nods. 

“They’ll be fine. You both got very lucky today.” She says, walking off to talk with the few other officers on the scene. 

“You okay?” Joel asks, and you look up at him. Worry is blatantly evident in his eyes, and it makes you melt. You just met this man hours prior and he cares about you much more than you probably deserve. 

“I’m fine. ‘S gonna fucking suck trying to find a new car, though.” You huff a laugh, and Joel grins as he stares down at his hands knotted in his lap. 

“Listen, I know we just met n’ all, but seeing you like that in your car scared the hell outta me, n’ I’d never ask a lady for permission to kiss her before the first date, but I just—”

You lay a hand on his arm, a smile on your face as you try to stop his rambling. Your sister’s words from earlier replayed themselves in your head: You need to learn to let go of the reins a little bit. The world won’t end if you give up an ounce of control.

And so you did just that. It was time you stopped worrying about the consequences of falling, because fuck did you deserve happiness. You had quite the hunch that Joel could give you just that. 

Any man that saves me from being trapped inside of a car, is a man I’ll let kiss me anyday.” Your voice is gentle as you look at him with a burning desire. 

And he does. He smiles softly and leans in, his plush lips enveloping yours in a steady, calculated motion. 

You’d be a goddamn liar if you said you didn’t feel like you were floating. You gasped softly into the kiss, and a knowing smile curled onto Joel’s lips as he pulled away in the slightest. 

“I feel it too.” And his lips are on yours again. You thread a hand through his thick locks, deepening the kiss marginally, until you hear a throat clear before you. 

“Really, Miller?” One of his coworkers said with a shit-eating grin, and a man, who’s name you think is Tommy, pipes up as well. 

“Ah, so this is the woman you’ve been talkin’ my ear off all day about. Nice to meet you darlin’, I’m Joel’s brother.” He sticks his hand out and you shake it while introducing yourself, turning to Joel after with an eyebrow raised. 

“Talking about me all day, hm?” You tease, and his cheeks burn bright red. He clears his throat and waves his hand out in front of himself, brushing you guys off. 

“Whatever.” He mumbles toward Tommy and his coworker, and they laugh as they begin to walk away. 

“It’s alright. I was talking about you today, too.” You avow to him. 

His eyebrows raise in shock. 

“To who?” He asks. 

“My sister.”

“Mm. N’ what’d she have to say?” He questions, leaning in closer to you once more. 

“She said I should give it a shot with you.” 

“Really? And what do you think about that?” A smirk makes its way onto his plush lips, and your face heats at his question. You decided to be honest with him anyway. 

“Told her I’d give it a shot.” You bite your lip to keep from smiling too hard, heart thumping in your chest as a low chuckle rumbles through his throat. 

“‘M real glad y’did, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to yours once more, butterflies raging through your whole body. Your veins are pumping with excitement and adrenaline, reveling in the man that is Joel Miller. 

Today really wasn’t like most days, but the unwavering sweetness from the handsome stranger behind you at the café truly was the start of something more than you could’ve ever wished for.  

if you want a part two, lmk!

tags: @party-hearses ; @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @cool-iguana ; @tinygarbage ; @bastardmandennis ; @amanitacowboy ; @punkshort ; @pamasaur ; @nerdieforpedro ; @brittmb115 ; @joelsranchbaby ; @lovely-ateez ; @nandan11

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #firefighter!joel #Joel Miller au #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagines #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

[finelinevogue]

i love you more than dino nuggets

summary - the night before the final show

pairing : fiancé!harry x reader

word count : +2.3k

a/n : originally was going to include the show but i have another idea for that so i’m off to write that now !!! the title will make sense as you read😭😭

It was the final night before the last love on tour show and you’d already cried three times.

Once on the plane over to Italy. Once on visiting the stage being set up today at the stadium. And once, now, crying because of how overwhelmed you feel.

You were busy getting ready in your shared bedroom, whilst Harry entertained the rest of your friends and family downstairs.

The house Harry owned in Italy, that was soon to become yours too in a week, was a massive Roman inspired villa. The orange stone that the building was made of created a cool villa to live in and with over 12 bedrooms it was the biggest house Harry owned.

All of Harry’s family and friends were staying over here for the duration of the last love on tour show, and then also for your wedding next week.

Whilst some wondered why Harry would end the love on tour shows in Italy, when nothing would ever beat the homeliness feeling of Wembley, it was all because you were getting married here a week Saturday.

How could you not? The perfect background for a summers wedding, in yours and Harry’s favourite country.

“Babe?” Harry knocked on the door and enters before you answer.

“Yeah?” You sniffled, wiping your fingers under your eyes to clear the mascara marks.

“Wha— What’s with the tears, baby?” He asked with a laugh.

“I don’t even know!” You laughed, starting to cry all over again.

“Is it ‘cause the the cake decorator cancelled on us again? ‘Cause, babe, I promise you that I will bake the bloody thing myself.”

Harry came and sat next to you on the bed, handing you a handkerchief he pulled out of his blazer pocket.

Tonight was a big celebration for him and so you’d decided to all get dressed up and have one final supper all together. Harry was in a gorgeous black slate suit, with a basic white t-shirt underneath. You matched him with a simple black halter-dress.

“Turns out these suit tissues are useful for something.”

“Thank you.” You said, dabbing underneath your eyes.

“You’re going to make me cry before the night is up, I just know it.” He nudged you with his shoulder, causing you to fall into him.

You rested your head on his shoulder and let your hands fall into his lap. His arm came around your body and hugged you close, kissing the side of your head as he inhaled your coconut shampoo.

You sat in silence for a few moments, Harry’s fingers coming to play with yours. Twirling around each other until they find home in an interlocking movement.

“Can’t believe this is all real.” You said first.

“Babe, you’re only saying that because we watched The Truman Show the other day.” Harry chuckled.

“Don’t say things like that.” You playfully hit him, but Harry caught your hand before you can go for a second playful punch. “Y’know that my worst fear is this all not being real.” You mumbled.

Harry nodded his head.

“Then let me show you just how real this is.”

Harry pushed you to lay your back down on the bed, your legs still touching the floor from where you sat on the edge of the bed. Harry moved to hover over you and took your intertwined hands with him, moving them to link above your head.

A loose strand of hair tickled your forehead and Harry blew it away with a soft blow, making you smile.

“You’re so pretty.” Harry stopped to pause and just take you all in.

“I thought you were supposed to be showing me how we are real.” You sarcastically told him. The glint in his eyes told you just how cheeky he thought you were.

Harry didn���t waste another moment before kissing you. Your lips met his instantly and just like you’d been doing for the past five years, you kissed and kissed and kissed. You both knew when to bite or slow down and speed up. You were so in tune with each other.

When you started to pant slightly out of breath, Harry slowed down and moved his lips away from yours just a fraction.

“Breathe, baby.” He whispered against your lips.

“Mhm.” You tried to inhale some air.

“Was that real enough for you?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe we should try a—”

Harry’s lips pressed back against yours and he let go of your hands, because he knew you were itching to touch him.

Your hands went straight to his cheeks, pulling him in to guide his lips against yours, whilst his own hands remained gripped to the bed sheets as he held his weight up. You kissed him until both your lips were red and swollen.

A knock on the door is what interrupted you both.

“Fuck.” Harry mumbled, stuffing his head into your neck to hide from everyone else. Now that he’d had a moment with you, he didn’t want anyone else.

“H? Y/N?” The sound of Anne came through the other side of the door. “I know you two love each other, but you have people downstairs waiting for you.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle that you’d been caught making out by Harry’s mum. You felt like a teenager all over again.

“It’s not funny.” Harry pinched your sides playfully.

“Did y’hear me?” Anne asked.

“Yes muumm!” Harry replied, pretending like he was annoyed when in reality he could never be anything but kind to his mum.

“Be down in five, otherwise I’m coming in next time.”

Harry grunted and dropped his head back into your neck, softly kissing and biting at the skin he could find exposed down there.

“Harry stop.” You tried to push him off, laughing, but he was too heavy and you were too weak to fight him off. “I’m not having your mum come back.”

“It’s an empty threat, babe.” Harry continued to kiss your neck and it was heading straight for a hickey.

“Umm… Do you remember Christmas of 2020?”

Harry’s head shot up at that, smirking as he looked down at you.

“Be more specific.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed because he knew exactly what you were talking about, but was just too much of a tease and wanted to hear you say it.

“Your mum thought I was in pain, but it turned out I was just receiving head from her son. So thanks for that. It’s a memory that will haunt me forever.”

“What? Me eating you out?” Harry looked even more cheeky. “Well, I guess we’ll have to fix that.”

His hands shifted underneath your body as he moved down until he was knelt on the floor in front of your legs. You kicked him with your foot before he could lift your dress though.

“Harry Styles!” You scoffed. “Your entire family is downstairs. Stop it.”

You were well aware that you sounded like a teacher, or a scolding mother, but sometimes it was the only way to get him to stop his adolescent behaviour.

“You’re no fun.” Harry groaned and laid on the floor like you’d just shot him through the heart with an arrow.

“Don’t marry me then.” You said jokingly.

You shook your head and walked towards the door, heels clicking on the marble floor as you went. You brushed your dress down from creases.

You stopped in front of a full length mirror to check yourself out before you rejoined everyone downstairs. Everything was still set in place, despite the copious amounts of crying.

Harry came up behind you, having felt him before actually seeing him through the mirror.

He wrapped his arms underneath your armpits and squeezed you in a hug from behind. You tilted your head to one side of his body so he could plant a soft kiss on the skin you’d left exposed.

“I love you. And I can’t wait to marry you.” He kissed you again. “For you to be mine. Officially.”

“And you’ll be mine.” You turned your head and looked him in his eyes. They were so full of love, sparkling from the excitement you gave him.

“I’ve always been yours.”

His lips met yours once last time before you really did have to go downstairs.

Harry held your hand as you walked down the stairs together, occasionally checking that you were alright and that your heels weren’t going to make you fall.

Once you were down them, Harry immediately brought you into his side and had his arm around your waist. You copied his motion and followed him into the outdoor seating area.

Lots of long tables had been set up on the large patio for people to sit at, with an extra long table that was arranged with food and drinks for everyone here and an extra hundred people.

There was meats, fish, pasta, pizza and even veggie dinosaur nuggets that Harry had shipped from England just for you. For drinks there was everything from water to very expensive wine. Wine that come from the vineyards Harry has invested in around this area.

Everyone cheered when Harry and you finally turned up, many people already sitting down and tucking into their food and some people nursing glasses of fizz as they chatted.

The glow of the moon and the strings of hundreds of fairy lights made the atmosphere that little bit more special. There was some light piano music playing in the background and everything felt at peace with the world.

“I’m just going to go say to hi to a couple of people. Are you okay?” Harry asked you.

“‘Course. I’m starving and starting to get hangry.”

“Well nobody wants to see a hangry Y/N. Go on!” Harry shooed you along and you stuck up your middle finger at him. He watched you with admiration as you wandered off.

You made it to the buffet selection and happily see your dinosaur nuggets waiting for you. They even have a little sign on them that says ‘property of the lead singers fiance. don’t touch’ in Harry’s handwriting. Every minute he’s got spare he’s reminding people that you are soon to be forever each others.

You sit at a table with some of Harry’s relatives, chatting with them for a bit, before moving down the table to speak to your family.

You finished off your dinosaur nuggets and excuse yourself, wandering back inside the house and towards the freezer.

Opening it, you are amazed to find another three boxes of nuggets and you instantly fall a little bit more in love with Harry because of the simple action.

Your best friend, Ruby, meets you in the kitchen, as you’re turning on the oven to make more.

“Someone has been looking beautiful tonight.” She teased you, handing you over what must be your fourth glass of prosecco of the night.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” You laughed.

“Don’t be daft. No one is glowing more than you are tonight.”

“Not even H?” You challenged.

“I mean, yeah. But he’s only happy ‘cause you are.”

You blushed at her comment and take a sip of your drink. After the nuggets are in the oven, you sit on top of the granite kitchen island. Ruby clambered on after you, falling straight onto her back with how tipsy she is.

You laughed so hard that you ended up falling back too. Luckily the kitchen island is that big that you remain on it.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married next week.” You best friend says.

“Why does everyone keep focusing on that and not the final show tomorrow?” You wondered.

“Maybe because your wedding day is slightly more important than the end of Love On Tour.”

“I don’t think I see it that way.” You hummed at your own realisation. “They’re equal in importance. Tomorrow night is the biggest night of Harry’s career and it means a lot to me, therefore meaning a lot to me.”

“Girl, don’t tell me you’ve got cold feet.”

“No!” You blurted out, more sure of that fact than anything. “Never. I love Harry and I can’t wait for married life together.”

“But…?”

“But I think tomorrow night will be as equally as important to him and so it will be to me too.” You answered truthfully.

“Ugh. When did you get so sappy?” Your best friend teased you.

“Harry brings it out of me.” You gushed over your fiancé.

“You two are so sickeningly in love.”

“Don’t worry. Harry will give me my medicine later.” You attempted a bad joke.

“Okayyy….” Brad said as entered the room with a beer in hand. He’s been following your best friend everywhere she’s gone recently and you’re wondering whether he’s harbouring a little crush.

Both you and Ruby burst out laughing, you clutching onto your stomach from laughing so hard. Everything is so much funnier laying down too.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Harry asked, smiling when he saw you laughing. He walked up Brad and slung his arm around his shoulder as they watched on.

“Mate I don’t even know. I don’t think I want to know.” Brad answered.

“Harry? Do you love Y/N?” Ruby asked.

“Yes.” Harry answered quickly.

“Y/N? Do you love Harry?”

“I doo!!” You shouted, laughing afterwards.

“They love each other! You’re now both wifed up.” Ruby announced.

“What?” You laughed. “Harry can’t be my wife.” You giggled.

“Oh yeah.” Ruby laughed and it set both of you off laughing again.

Harry shook his head at you both and nodded for Brad to handle Ruby whilst he handled you. Brad made sure Ruby didn’t fall over when he stood her up, announcing he was going to take her somewhere to lay down for a bit to calm down.

You felt Harry’s hands on yours as he pulled you to sit up.

Once you sat up you warmly smiled at him, cupping his cheek and leaning your forehead onto his.

“Hey, baby. Y’doing okay?” Harry asked and smiled at you.

“Mhm.”

“Your dino nuggets are ready if you want them.”

“Yes please.”

“Okay. Stay here for me.”

Harry arranged them on a plate and added some sweet chilli sauce on the side for you. He then came back over to you and stood between your legs.

He dipped a nugget in some sauce and held it up to your mouth. He blew on it to cool it down, only because he’d seen chefs on the TV do it, and waited for you to take a bite.

You hummed in delight as you bit into it. “Mm mm.”

“Nice?” Harry asked, wiping your mouth of crumbs with a nearby napkin.

“Thank you.” You nodded. “I’m excited for a life full of you and dino nuggets, Harry.”

“Do you love me more than dino nuggets?” He offered you another bite.

“Love you more than anyone or anything.” You finished chewing before speaking. “But veggie dino nuggets are the second love of my life.”

“As long as I’m the first.” He kissed your forehead.

Both of you were in the kitchen for another twenty minutes, talking about anything and nothing whilst Harry fed you. A few people had walked in, but had left you just as quickly to enjoy this quiet time together.

A couple of people had snapped photos of you too, which you would be thankful for later.

At the end of the night, after there was a mass of friends and family cleaning up and washing dishes, everyone retreated to bed.

Harry had been saying his rounds of good night before he had joined you in bed.

It was past midnight and you wanted time to slow down. It was unfair that the last show of love on tour has crept up so soon. How dare it.

You understood Harry needed some time to himself now though and start building more of a life outside of touring for himself. For starters, marrying you.

Harry sighed as he got into bed, peeling back the covers and immediately wiggling is way across the bed, over to your side, and spooning you from behind.

He kissed the back of your neck a couple of times, just because he could, as you wiggled in his hold to get comfortable again.

“Tonight was fun.” You said softly, speaking into the darkness and knowing it was only Harry who could hear you.

“It was. Tomorrow night will be even more fun.”

“It’ll be bittersweet.”

“Maybe.” His hands held yours. “But I’m getting tired, baby, and I just want a bit of rest now.”

“I know, bub. I’ll just miss it, is all.”

“You’ll always still have me, though. I’m not going anywhere.”

You turned around in his hold, facing him and resting your faces so close that your noses were touching.

“I’m here to stay too. Forever yours when that ring gets put on me next week, baby.” You tell him, smiling a little too much at that comment.

“I… I think I’m going to play something for you tomorrow. Something i’ve never done before.” He sounded nervous telling you.

“Just for me?”

“Everything’s always for you. This piece will especially be.”

“Can’t wait.” You leaned in and pecked his lips so he could taste your excitement. “You’re going to be amazing.”

“I’ll be sad it’s over, but more than ready to step off the stage and down the aisle instead. That’ll be the best day of my life.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles fic #harry styles blurbs #harry styles love on tour #love on tour italy #harry styles italy fic