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#// there are a handful of things i'd still like to do to his model but FUKKIT WE BALL (aka im gonna try rigging him lol)
grandlinedreams · 1 day
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|| this man is an exposed live wire in my brain ok
|| notes: uhh prequel to [this] and [this], semi Canon compliant, pre-s1 but mentions of pre-war Cooper, I love the dynamic 😔👌✨️
|| warnings: hopefully IC Cooper, asshole x asshole dynamic we love to see it, weapons/supply dealer!reader, Canon typical violence, mention of blood/reader is injured kinda, spoilers? Abt Cooper's backstory, kinda enemies to friends/lovers
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He doesn't know why he's here.
No, that's a lie ㅡ he does know why he's here, he just doesn't want to admit it. To himself, or to anyone else, for that matter. That he needs help.
Those fancy little bullets for his gun are hard to come by, few and far between when he can't get them by looting and places like Ma June's enjoy extorting as much as they can for so very little.
There's a difference between business transactions and highway robbery, even now. Which is why he's here ㅡ he'd gotten talk about a place that sold weapons and weapon-related supplies at a fair rate, and necessity had made him swallow his pride to go and find out for himself.
Which is why he's not just turning around and fuckin' leaving.
The building is crammed between two others, as ramshackle as the rest being made of recycled tin and wood that's rotted by time and rain in places, but still suggests a stability that won't crumble if somebody breathes too hard on it.
Cooper's spurs jingle as he walks, lost momentarily to the chime of something over his head when he pushes the door open. He looks up, forehead creasing.
Is that a bell?
Rusted but still in working order, it clatters again when he shuts the door, looking around. It's about as put together as any other kind of shop, an eclectic organization to it ㅡ a couple of rifles, a pistol or two, along with an admittedly impressive assortment of knives ㅡ but it's the shine of something on the floor that makes Cooper stop.
His head cocks as he studies the stain, the still-slick shimmer to it that makes him crouch and drag two gloved fingers against it, studying the residue. Coppery, with a hefty dose of some kind of chem to clean it, but still unmistakable ㅡ blood.
Well damn. He doesn't know what's happened here and he's pretty sure he doesn't care to, much beyond the fact that if the runner of this place is dead, that puts a damper on things. Or maybe not ㅡ if nobody's here, what's to stop him from taking what he wants?
"If you're thinkin' of stealing," comes a call that snaps his head up as it echoes from further back in the building, "I'd advise you not to. Less you wanna meet your maker, then I'd be happy to assist."
It's a flat bravado that both amuses him and piques his interest, and he leans against the counter to rap his knuckles. "Not stealin'," he drawls, "just wonderin' what kind of business model you've got if you make customers wait."
"The kind where patience is still a virtue, that's what." Foosteps, unhurried ㅡ and then Cooper is staring at you as you round the corner. You've got a jumpsuit of some indistinguishable color opened to rest around your hips, dingy tank-top underneath ㅡ and a stimpak in your hand. No doubt for the mess of your other arm, bicep wrapped with gauze that's already seeped into a bloom of bright red.
Well now. Cooper wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but you still manage to surprise him. Enough that he's staring, which makes you scowl.
"I know that look," you challenge, "if you think I'm easy picking, you'll get a new place to breathe from, courtesy of the hole I'll put in your head."
Cooper's head cocks. "Well now sugar," he says, "that's not very nice now, is it? Wasn't even thinkin' of that." He turns, jerks a thumb at the half-assed cleaning of the mess on the floor. "That's your doin', I reckon."
You nod. "Don't get trouble much," you say, "but when I do, I make sure to prove a point." You jam the stimpak into your arm, and he watches the tension melt from your shoulders. "Now, what can I do for you besides point out the exit?"
Well damn, Cooper thinks again. You've got a pretty face, but it's at odds with the attitude coming from that nice little mouth of yours. About as welcoming as a rattlesnake and probably just as quick to anger, from the way you bristle as he eyes you.
"Need supplies," he says, and you snort.
"What a wellspring of information you are. What kind of supplies?" You eye him, brow furrowing. "You're a bounty hunter, aren't you? Get your kind in here all the time." You tap a worn boot against the floor, hands now on your hips. "Hope you got means to pay for shit, because I don't do tab and I sure as fuck don't do charity work."
Cooper isn't sure if he likes you or he hates you. Bit of both, he guesses. The like is tentative and the hate is more solid ground, because he hates just about everybody. Makes it easier to do what needs to be done.
"Well, sweetheart," he leans into the counter, tips his hat, "depends on what you got to show me that's worth buyin'."
You stare, unimpressed by whatever angle he's going for. He's handsome, you'll give him that ㅡ but not much else. He also reminds you of somebody, with that hat of his and the way he talks ㅡ the low, drawn out drawl that you've only seen in those movies you manage to scrounge up here and there for your amusement.
Rolling your eyes, you hold up a finger and shrug your arms back into the jumpsuit, though you don't bother to zip it up. "Gimme a sec."
You don't know why you're doing this. Entertaining the notion that if you show him good enough product, he'll become a regular. You like regulars, but most of what you get seem to run on about six months worth of visits and then vanish.
Probably dead. Such is the way of the world, and it's still enough to get by. But you like new faces.
To his credit, he doesn't flinch when you slap the first pack onto the counter, followed by a second, and then a third.
"This is baseline stuff," you explain. "Your usual grade of bullet. Black powder, the standard kick." You shove the first pack at him, let him inspect the bullets. "Then you've got these."
The second pack shoved over, thin fabric parted so he can eye the neat little row of what would be hollow-point bullets if they didn't end with a tiny, pointed bulb of red glass.
"Explosive rounds." Your expression is unreadable. "They do the job, but they need special packing. Unless you wanna be blown up before the damn things even get loaded into the gun."
Cooper hums, eyes the bullet he holds up, the barely there shift of powder in the glass. He watches as you push the third over. "And these?"
"Same, but they pack even more of a punch. I'd recommend only shooting them at shit you want up in smoke." You shrug. "Or people, deathclaws, whatever the fuck you do out there."
Cooper studies you. "Where did you get this stuff? Thought bullets were hard to come by."
You give him a flat look of annoyance. "I make 'em myself."
Cooper stares, then smirks. Another little tip to his head. "Really now," he says, watches you bristle like a viper, ready to strike. Wonders if those fangs of yours pack a punch, what he'd need to do to get you to spit at him. "How 'bout you show me, darlin'? Wanna make sure what I buy is good quality."
You should tell him to shove it. Tell him to get the absolute fuck out of your shop, take his fuckin' yeehaw personality to someone else in the mood to deal with it ㅡ but you don't.
Instead, you sigh and tug the packages back, moving away from the counter. "Well c'mon then," you prompt, irritated. "Don't have all goddamn day."
The back of your shop is half a home and half a workshop, sprawled mess of equipment rusted with time but otherwise well maintained, smell of grease and hot metal and gunpowder that clings to everything.
You don't have to look back to know he's followed you, the jingle of his spurs as he takes his time, eyes missing nothing. The boxes of empty casings and empty glass bulbs ㅡ and the Mister Handy that's slumped in the corner, sparks spitting from it.
"Poor thing got shot first with that...situation earlier." Your voice is quiet. "Gotta fix 'im if I can."
Kind of funny, you sound sadder about the damn machine than the fact you'd killed someone over it. Then again, they'd been trying to kill you, so...eh. Justified, in your book.
The rest of the room is a haphazard attempt at something like a house ㅡ a couch with blankets on it, a short stack of books gone yellow at the edges, a coffee table ㅡ and sitting on it is a shitty little television, staticy and without color ㅡ but that doesn't matter. What matters to Cooper is that he knows what it's playing.
Your flitting around fades a little as he watches himself on screen ㅡ forever ago, a lifetime ago. Before the bombs, before vault-tec ㅡ when he'd been happy.
He'd loved his life, his family ㅡ and they'd loved him too.
"I've got enough stuff to make another round of flash-baㅡ" You stop, blinking at the way he's staring at the television. "Somethin' wrong? I know this isn't much, but it's my way of living, soㅡ"
"Stop your yappin'," Cooper rasps, and you glare as he shakes himself out of whatever reverie he was lost in. You scowl.
"Look, I know this doesn't seem like much of anything, but this is my business, and my shop." Your eyes narrow. "So try to be a little fuckin' nicer if you want me to sell you anything."
Whatever patience he'd had left promptly snaps like a bowstring as he snatches your arm, grips it tighter than he should. "Listen, sweetheart," he hisses, "what exactly is stopping me from just takin' what I want and leaving?"
Something whirrs behind him, distracts him just enough for the cool, sharp kiss of metal at his throat.
"Do it," you taunt, expression unreadable, grip tight on the blade you hold to his neck. "You're not the first one to try, and you won't be the last."
And there, Cooper notes, are your fangs, ready to sink into his skin. The two of you stare at each other for a good, long minute while the Mister Handy spits and sputters. And then Cooper huffs something like a laugh. "Glad to see you've got some bite to you, darlin', but I still think I could handle you."
A threat and something a little less hostile all in one, even as you yank your arm out of his grasp. "You couldn't handle me even if I came with a fuckin' manual," you snap back, but there's a playful gleam to your eyes. "You gonna buy anything or just lookin' to be a pain in my ass?"
A crooked grin tugs at Cooper's mouth. "Both."
The truce between the two of you is tentative. An understanding in the barest sense, because neither of you are dumb enough to pass up a lucrative, beneficial deal. He gets his supplies, you get caps. Simple.
You won't go as far as to say you're even friends, up until the point that you greet him on a visit with, "You know, you remind me of somebody."
He eyes you. "Really now. And who would that be, sweetheart? You workin' with more ghouls than just me?"
You snort. "Careful," you tease, "you almost sound jealous." Your tone quiets as you drum your fingers on the counter. "Nah, you remind me of that one actor, Cooper Howard."
Cooper stills. Watches you warily, turning a spent bullet casing over and over between gloved fingers.
"He played a cowboy," you say, nodding to yourself. "Talked like you do, too. Good movies, at least the ones I've gotten my hands on." You eye him, playful light to your eyes. "Wouldn't happen to be a fan of him too, would you?"
Cooper debates. He's not sure if you've put the pieces together and if you have, you're polite enough not to say it. He appreciates that, makes that fleeting temptation of putting a bullet in your head all the more temporary. He likes you. Be a shame if he had to cut ties.
"No," he answers. "I can safely say he and I are nothin' alike." Not anymore. He lets himself lean over the counter, too close to your face. Intimidation, maybe, or perhaps just because he likes being able to look at you like this. "Got anythin' else to tell me?"
Your eyes flick over his face, down to his lips as you lean a little closer, the suggestion of your mouth just shy of his. "Yeah," you murmur, quiet. "Next time you come by, work on your fuckin' manners."
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cybernexus · 1 month
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Reyesh Bedi - aka "Raj" (modeled + rendered in Blender)
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miniimight · 7 months
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Gotta admit the way you write midoriya is just so... Literally can't find the words to describe it. I had this scenario I wished to request of you it's okay if you don't want to do it. Midoriya with an significant other that hears people taking about them, not deserving of him and how they are using him for his fame and all, then he teaches them a lesson?
DEFENDING YOU the gossip around the office gets on his nerves a lil bit
with izukuuuuu :heart: + gn!reader
notes absolutely in love with this request ! thanks for reading my stuffs <3
a while after you were revealed as his girlfriend, izuku was faced with many backhanded comments about his relationship. sure, they were few and far between, but when they did happen he felt his self-control diminishing way faster than usual. especially if that person had the balls to say it to his face.
to be completely honest, he thought that everyone else should mind their own fucking business. he doesn't kid around when it comes to the people he cares about. the fact that he wants and needs you is enough.
but, nonetheless. people will still run their mouths.
it was another casual day in the office. you had the day off work and he was stuck at the agency headquarters, flipping through paperwork.
you were excited to see him. izuku had been holed up in work for what seemed like forever, and you were so happy to get the chance to spend time with each other during the coming weekend.
as you walked through the halls, you noticed the eyes following you. they were hard to miss, but they were part of the routine at this point. you soon found yourself in the elevator, head ducked as you pulled out your phone.
izu: you coming up soon baby?
you: yeah, i'm like 5 mins away
you: okay im in the lobby, heading up rn
izu: yayyy can't wait to see you, love :3
you smiled softly to yourself. when you looked up, the elevator was packed; all you could see were the backs of the seven or so individuals in front of you, pushing you into the corner. your stomach felt a little uneasy, thinking about how you'd have to tell these people to move to let you through, but you remembered izuku was on the top floor. there was no way they were all heading there.
the hushed voices of a few employees made your heart pound.
"you're talking about deku's s/o?"
"yeah! aren't they... i dunno. a little out of his league?"
"i'm saying! like i'd get it if they were maybe a model or something. but they're literally just a civilian. how disappointing is that? like uravity is right there."
"i'm sure they're just using him for his fame. he's in the field so much with other badass heroes, they probably barely get to see him. if deku wasn't deku, they'd dip in a heartbeat."
they all laughed.
you wanted to stop listening. flood your mind with meaningless thoughts to distract you. but you couldn't resist tuning in, feeding your insecurities and doubt.
the ding of the elevator saved you. they filed out of the elevator, leaving you with the cheerful jingle of the lift.
you were quiet as you walked down the long halls of the top floor, their words echoing in your mind. you knew they weren't true—and god, would izuku reassure the fuck out of you—but negativity was negativity. and negativity had a way of finding cracks and slipping through.
the giant glass doors slid over the tiled floor soundlessly, yet izuku's head popped up from behind all the papers and files at your arrival.
a huge grin bloomed on his face as he sped over to you, paperwork forgotten. "hello, honey. did you get up here okay?"
"yeah," you smiled and held up a takeout bag. "i got some snacks for us."
izuku's calculating gaze bore into you as he gingerly accepted the bag. "you alright?"
"hmm?" you tilted your head in confusion. of course he noticed. "yeah, i'm good." the last thing you wanted to do was stress him out even more.
his brows furrowed. he stepped closer to you, his hands resting on your waist. "don't lie to me, sweetheart." his tone was scolding but his eyes were gentle. "what's bothering you?"
you pursed your lips, sighing. "just a couple people talking about us, 'n how i don't deserve you—"
you felt him stiffen, his expression going cold.
"how i'm using you for the fame, blah, blah, blah." you forced a smile, trying to play it off in an amusing light. "you know, the usual."
izuku was tightlipped, responding only with a "hmm."
he was staring at the wall behind you, eyes narrowed as if he'd seen a villain or something. you knew that expression well.
you cupped his face, guiding him to look at you. "hey. it's okay, izu, i'm used to it. don't mind them, alright?"
izuku's gaze softened and he leaned into one of your palms, the other lifted off his face by his own hand. he pressed a little kiss to your wrist, rubbing his hand up and down your arm soothingly as you both walked out his office.
he decided to drop it, and just love the shit out of you as an apology for experiencing such disrespect. even if he did everything in his power to make sure everyone knew he belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him, he still felt guilty when people attacked you.
he still had many questions: who were they, what floor did they get off, and how can i discipline them? he usually felt sympathy for when employees messed up, but suddenly... he wasn't against firing them all.
the ride down to the lobby was filled with many adoring employees who giggled at the sight of the pro-hero, a phenomenon you were also very familiar with.
soon, you were gliding through the lobby, so close to freedom when he picks up on the idle chatter he hates so much.
"i think that's them!"
"it is. woah, his s/o is way more dull when you see 'em next to each other."
izuku grit his teeth. his eyes glanced down to you, seeing the way you blinked and pursed your lips. he suddenly paused. you walked forward a couple steps before you were tugged back by his stationary hand.
you looked at him curiously. "izu..?" your eyes darted around, lingering on the three that said those things about you.
he smiled, bending over you as he kissed your lips gently, pecking your forehead as well. "why don't you go to the car, love? i'll catch up in a second."
you gave him a warning look, noticing how he was drifting to where the three sat. "izu... really, let's just go."
he kissed you again and your head was swimming. "i'll only be a minute, angel. go on." he pat your back and watched as you left the lobby. when he turned around his expression was completely different.
he walked over to the three people, who instantly straightened at his approach. they shared glances with each other, both a little scared and confused.
"hello." izuku smiled, but there was no indication that he was happy. "i'm deku, and you all are..?"
they meekly listed their names, to which izuku took mental notes and nodded.
"great. uhm, i overheard you talking about my s/o?" he cocked his head to the side. "please, i'd love to hear your thoughts." he chuckles. "i'm kinda obsessed with them, or whatever."
"o-oh..." they stutter and avoid his gaze, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "no, it was nothing, really."
"hmm? nothing?" izuku and his months of public appearance training only made him more intimidating when angry; the joyless smile he wore as annoyance bubbled through him was ten times worse then any outright show of anger. "are you sure?"
"yes! promise." one nods eagerly.
he laughs mirthlessly and the three weakly chuckled along, thinking they were out of trouble. leaning close to them, his voice dropped into a low hum. "i'd like to keep it that way, yeah? let's not make them sad just so you could feel like you have an opinion about something that does not concern you whatsoever."
the three held onto each other, eyes rounded with shock as they listened to the pro-hero before them.
izuku's head tilted ever-so-slightly. "well?"
they began to trip over each other with their agreement, yes, of course! we wouldn't dream of it. consider it done! whatever you say!
izuku flashed his famous smile. "glad we got that sorted out. and just so that we're crystal clear, if i—or anyone for that matter—catch you talking down on my s/o again..." he pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing in thought. "i'd hate to have to terminate your contracts... it's a lot of paperwork, you know?"
they shook their heads, bowing deeply to the pro-hero. "never again, sir!"
"great!" izuku chirped. "bye!"
[]
your leg bobbed nervously in the car, wondering what izuku was doing and if you should go in there and see for yourself. just as you were about to act, you saw his green hair bob over the cars beside you, eventually coming into view.
you exhaled in relief as he slipped into the driver's seat, sighing happily. he turned to stare at you, leaning dreamily over the steering wheel. you smiled, though your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"you're so pretty." he sighed.
"i—" you blinked, laughing. "thank you, baby."
"i'm so lucky to have you..." he continued, leaning over the compartment separating your seats.
you giggled, matching his energy. "mhmm."
he gave you a lopsided smile. "you deserve everything i have and more."
your face felt warm as you shy away from him, knowing why he was spouting all these affirmations. his fingers hooked under your chin, tilting your face. his hair brushed against your forehead as he captured your lips. he grinned at you when he pulled away, staring at you with such adoration.
"so..." you ignore your racing heart and try to regulate your breathing. "are you gonna tell me what happened?"
he squished your cheeks before turning back in his seat, starting the car. "nope!"
you smiled and rolled your eyes, uncertainties gone and doubt erased. in the end, you weren't ever bothered. and strangely, you never saw those three faces again.
© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3
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golden-cherry · 2 months
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deal - cl16 (25/?)
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader
Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.
Chapter Summary: Having lunch with friends always leads to sharing information. And girl, those friends don't hold back.
Warnings: 18+ (mentions of smut), fluff, Kika is the bestest friend on this planet, mentions of Carlos and his girlfriend (yes, I consider this a trigger)
Word Count: 3.3k
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A/N: I just reached 2.6k followers and wow!! thank you so much!!! I love you! and this one is for you!!! feedback is appreciated.
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Although it's only a few days until Christmas, the sun is shining so brightly that it's pleasantly warm as you and Kika leave the furniture store. As planned - but still with an uneasy feeling - you have left the almost overflowing shopping cart in front of the checkouts and while Charles pays for your "early Christmas present", you and your friend walk to the restaurant.
"I hope all this stuff fits in the car." Kika curls her mouth into a grin. "The mirror I wrote on the note - you know, the one they have to get from storage - is pretty big."
"I'd like to have your guts," you answer her. "Just picking out a huge mirror without knowing exactly whether it will fit anywhere in our apartment."
Kika grins and points to her brown eyes. "Eye measurement, baby. Those marbles are that big for a reason."
You have to stifle a laugh. "If you say so."
While the Portuguese woman plans where in your room she will place which decoration, your thoughts drift off. 
It bothers you a little that Charles wants to spend so much money on you. And for no good reason. "I want you to feel comfortable" was his explanation, which is of course very courteous and loving of him. But you could have bought the things with your own money. At least a small part of it. 
Would he expect a similarly expensive gift for Christmas now? If so, what could you get him? What do you give someone who already has everything? 
"Are you mad at me?" Kika interrupts your flow of thoughts and grabs your elbow. 
Confused, you turn to her. "What?"
"I - I don't know." When she stops, you're forced to stop too. "I didn't tell you that Charles is a famous Formula 1 driver. You - you confided in me about Raphael and I kept you in the dark about your roommate." 
You exhale. "Kika..."
"I wasn't a good friend and I'm sorry about that. Charles had asked us all not to tell because he wanted to protect you and enjoy the time with you when he was just Charles to you. Even if it wasn't fair to you. I can understand if you're angry with me and-"
"I'm not angry with you," you interrupt her and smile at her. "You're Charles' friend first and foremost and I can't blame him or you for keeping his secret. It doesn't affect our friendship in the slightest."
"Promise?" Her tone sounds a little more pleased than it did a few moments ago. 
You nod. "I promise."
She hooks back into you. "Thank goodness for that. I felt super bad because I couldn't tell you. But it wasn't my secret and it wasn't my place to tell you. And I'm really relieved that you see it the same way." She rests her head on your shoulder as you continue walking. 
"So you're a model, huh?" you ask her. 
She nods. "Yes. Well, I put a lot of effort into it and it's very tiring at times." Kika shrugs her shoulders. "But because of that - and Pierre, of course - I get to travel a lot and see great places. And I really appreciate that." She looks at you. "Now that you're unemployed -" You give her a dirty look. "Maybe you'd like to take my pictures sometime. And then I can post it on my Instagram and maybe other models will want to book you."
"You haven't seen any of my pictures yet," you reply with a laugh as she grabs your hand and jumps up and down. "Of course we can. We can try it out if you like."
Your friend looks around briefly before letting go of you and moving away from you. "How about now? I know you don't have your camera with you, but you can use my phone. The photos won't be as focused as with a real camera, but it should be enough to get you started." 
She hands you her cell phone before standing opposite you against the wall of the house. You watch her uncertainly as she fixes her hair. "Are you sure about this? What if the boys are already waiting for us?"
"Let them." She pulls her black jeans up a little so that they sit loosely on her hips. "It won't take long. And I trust you. So here we go."
While Kika turns, repositions herself and smiles at the camera, you take as many pictures as you can. In between, you adjust her purple cardigan so that it sits in the middle of her narrow shoulders, tell her how her feet should be positioned to emphasize the curves of her body and even tousle her hair once so that a few strands fall loosely into her forehead. 
When you look at the pictures after ten minutes and favor three of them, she looks curiously over your shoulder. "They look great. Really outfit of the day vibe." You hand the phone back to her. "I like this one. And this one. You've captured my butt well," she grins and puts the phone in her black handbag before hooking it back up to you. "And now let's go. I'm really hungry and I don't want to keep your tiramisu from you."
Oh well. 
Charles' words - "Then lie down on the bed, mon amour. I'd like to see how you look on it" - haunt your mind and the images that appear in your head don't make the situation any easier.  
For example, Charles kneeling between your legs and his gaze wandering hungrily over your body. How his hands rest on your thighs to open them a little wider so that he can lie comfortably on his stomach between them. How he slides his fingers under the hem of your panties to slowly pull them off your legs. And the way his mouth moves up from the soft skin of your thighs to where you want it to be. Need it to be. The way he opens his mouth and licks his tongue over his lips before closing the distance between you and - 
"Watch out. You start drooling." When you give Kika a confused look, she pokes you in the side. "I didn't know you could daydream about tiramisu."
"I wasn't even thinking about tiramisu," you defend yourself, but Kika doesn't believe a word you say. 
"Of course not." You could even hear her grin if you weren't looking at her. She lifts her hand and puts it to your cheek, playfully wiping the non-existent spit from the corner of your mouth. "I hate to repeat myself, but you're really not very good at lying."
You chew the inside of your cheek and look down at your sneakers. "Is it that obvious?"
"That you're totally into tiramisu? Hardly," she replies wryly, but puts her arm around your shoulder. "Let's be honest. A trained eye like mine can spot something like that, but if you're worried about the boys seeing it - you really don't need to worry. They wouldn't even recognize a dessert if you put it right in front of them."
"I just don't know what to do," you confess to her. 
Kika purses her lips. "Would you be ready for tiramisu after everything that's happened?"
A question you don't know the answer to. After Raphael's betrayal, you had actually sworn off men for a long time for fear that something similar would happen to you again. You tried to build a wall around your heart, but Charles has broken it down piece by piece and now there is only him. He has spread inside you, in your head and in your heart, and you are hungry for him - a feeling that you have never felt for Raphael before. A feeling that takes you by surprise and overruns you like an avalanche and you are helplessly at its mercy. 
"It's not the end of the world if you're ready for it," Kika assures you and her smile is genuine. "And when you're ready to give the tiramisu its real name, I'll be here if you want to talk about it."
You hug your friend tightly, causing her to let out a loud gasp. "Thank you, Kika. Really."
"You don't need to thank me. After all, I'm going to make full use of the mirror in your room soon and use you for your photography skills."
A few minutes later, you arrive at the small restaurant. As you enter through the glass door, you can already see the two men sitting at a table at the back. And Kika was right - apart from the four of you, the restaurant is deserted. 
"Where have you been?" asks Pierre as you join them. While Kika sits down opposite her boyfriend, you take the empty seat next to her. "We've been waiting for ages."
"We had to stop for a moment because I wanted to take photos," Kika explains and shows them both one of the pictures you took of her.
Pierre grimaces in amazement. "Very good photos. I hope you tag her in them too."
Playfully indignant, she puts her hand to her cleavage. "Of course! What makes you think I wouldn't do that? It might even land her more photo shoots with other models." She leans in your direction. "But as long as I remain your favorite model, everything's fine."
"You are and always will be my favorite model, Kika," you reply and briefly lean your cheek against the top of her head before she sits up straight again. 
While Kika and Pierre argue lovingly, you feel Charles pressing one of his legs against yours under the table. When you look at him, he smiles. "Everything okay?" he asks silently, tilting his head. 
You nod. "Everything's perfect." You press your leg against his as well.
The risotto you ordered doesn't taste too bad, even if it is a little more fancy than your typical meals. The boys talk about their sport and you try to understand everything, but when the conversation eventually turns to engines, you stop listening. 
You watch Charles as he talks energetically and passionately to his friend about his job, while the French mainly listens. He tries to explain things with his hands, waving them wildly in front of his face, and if you didn't know him, you'd think he was a bit out of his mind. But there is something twinkling in his eyes, a spark that shines brighter and brighter the longer he talks about Formula 1.
It makes him so attractive that you have to swallow. 
"How are Carlos and his girlfriend doing?" Kika interjects into the conversation. "I saw on Instagram the other day that they went on a trip together."
You look from Kika to Charles. "Who is Carlos?"
"My teammate at Ferrari. The other driver," he explains briefly with a smile before turning to Kika. "I've seen that too. Santorini or something, wasn't it? It was definitely nice, but let's see how long it lasts."
You have to ask again. " How long will it last? That doesn't sound like you have much faith in the relationship."
Kika, who has taken a sip of her water, puts her glass back on the table. "Unfortunately, this has nothing to do with faith," she explains and takes her cell phone out of her bag. She taps on it a little until she hands it to you. 
You see an Instagram page of a Becca, also a model, it seems. 27 years old, model at the Bijou Management agency. Her last post is actually from Santorini and alongside all the pictures of her lolling by the pool is one of her with a man. Carlossainz55 is tagged in the picture.
"When you're famous, it's harder to have a relationship," Pierre continues. "Not everyone is so lucky and falls in love with someone who is a good match for them. Sometimes rumors surface about people that aren't true, but still damage reputations. And to counteract this, some people go into relationships that put them in a good light."
You look around in confusion. "So it's a marketing strategy? So that people can sell themselves better?"
Charles nods. "These PR relationships are very conspicuous and usually easy to see through, but even then they distract from the actual rumor."
"And Carlos and Becca are in one of those PR relationships?" Your friends nod. "And what's the rumor that needs to be put to rest?"
Charles bites the inside of his cheek. "Carlos was with a young, super-nice woman for years. When they broke up, there was a rumor that he had a secret family and even a son. That this was the reason for the break-up. And that triggered a few conversations at Ferrari." He shrugs his shoulders. "And then they pulled Becca in for him."
You furrow your eyebrows. "Pulled her in? How do you find someone to willingly agree to a fake relationship like that?"
Kika catches your attention. "Some racing teams have a cooperation with certain modeling agencies for such cases. Which of course makes the whole thing even more conspicuous. But just think how much publicity the girlfriends get from it. It definitely doesn't hurt the modeling job."
"But you also have to understand that millions of euros are attached to a driver's reputation," Pierre explains. "Fans buy tickets to see their favorite driver. They buy merchandise like shirts, caps or whatever to show their loyalty. And loyalty is not exactly low. Ask Charles. One priest has his whole Instagram page dedicated to him."
As you look at your roommate, he can only nod. "That's true. Fans put their favorites on pedestals, praise them to the skies and would defend them to the bitter end. But a rumor that is so serious and has consequences like falling sales figures - anything is better than fans who refuse to support their favorites."
"And why do you think it won't be good for much longer?" Charles looks nervously around the room as if he doesn't know what to say, and his friends also avoid your gaze and your question. "Guys, I don't know these people. So, whatever you tell me - I can't do anything with the information anyway. Is there another woman?"
"It's not exactly another woman," Kika mumbles into her glass and all heads turn in her direction. "What is it? Like she's going to run to the nearest news agency and tell them that the Spanish Ferrari driver isn't exclusively into women."
You raise your hands placatingly. "In case it's not clear - of course I'll keep everything that's said around the table to myself. I'm not crazy and risking our friendship."
"I didn't expect anything else," Charles replies with a smile that could melt glaciers. "I couldn't bear it if we weren't friends anymore either." 
As you look at him and mindlessly lick your lips, you feel Kika's elbow gently on your arm. 
"What do you think? Do you fancy some tiramisu?" 
Your gaze lingers on Charles and when he presses his leg a little harder against yours, your breath hitches. "I'm craving it."
And indeed. The tiramisu isn't as good as the one at the restaurant where you met Kika and Pierre, but it comes close. You try to look away from Charles, but every time you look at him, his eyes are already on you. Something that makes you even more nervous than it should. 
When you get into the car a short time later, unnoticed, you glance briefly over the seats back into the trunk. "Where's the new bed?"
Charles straps himself in and has the seat belt fastened against his torso. "They'll deliver it between Christmas and New Year and set it up straight away. Then I won't have all the work and Pierre won't have to lug it around with me."
"For which I am very grateful," replies the Frenchman, steering the car through the streets of Monaco. "I don't even know how we're going to transport this mirror without breaking it. It was already barely possible to get it into the car."
"That sounds like a you-problem," grins Kika, looking at her boyfriend through the rear-view mirror. "You're the strong men. You'll find a solution while we get all the little things into the apartment. Right?"
The question is directed at you, but apart from a nod, she can't expect anything else in response. Charles's fingers are once again wrapped around your calf, his thumb gently stroking your warm skin and you can't think of anything else but the feeling of warmth that spreads through you from this small touch. 
It takes a good hour for both the mirror and the rest to get to the upstairs in your apartment. After Pierre involuntarily teaches you several swear words in French and Kika decorates your entire windowsill with fake plants, they quickly make a run for it, worried that you're both going to take even more advantage of them than you already have. 
"We've had a good day so far," you call out to Charles from the kitchen as you pour you both a glass of water each. You don't know where he is, but he will probably have heard you anyway. 
"Definitely," comes his voice from the living room. As you follow it, you see Charles sitting on the large couch, his head back and his eyes closed. Only now do you notice how thick his neck is. Is it from all the training for Formula 1?
"Here." You hold his glass of water out to him and he opens his eyes to accept it. As you sit down, he takes a sip. You watch his Adam's apple bounce as he swallows. 
"Thank you," he replies quietly and rests his arm on the back of the couch. A sign for you to lean against him, which you definitely don't refuse. 
As you snuggle into his side and breathe in his unmistakable scent, you feel tiredness overtake you. "But it was exhausting."
""Mh-mhh." 
"Thanks again. For my early Christmas present. Even though it wasn't necessary," you joke, but as rigid as Charles is sitting next to you, he doesn't seem to be in the mood for jokes. And as you follow his stare, the roses on the white piano come into your field of vision. The reason why you suggested the trip to the furniture store. And suddenly your tiredness is blown away. 
"Do you happen to know anyone who has something like a fire bowl or something?" you ask your flatmate. 
This question seems to break him out of his spell. His gaze wanders from the roses to you and he raises an eyebrow in confusion. "A fire bowl?" You nod. "Joris has a rooftop terrace and we've had bonfires there before in the summer." He licks his teeth once. "What do you need a fire bowl for? You're not thinking about sitting around a fire with sticks and marshmallows in winter, are you?"
"Not exactly," you reply and get up from the couch. As you look down at him, you hold out your hand. "Come on, mon joli. I have an idea."
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cheriladycl01 · 3 months
Text
Baby, can you call me back? I miss you... its so lonely in our mansion - Lewis Hamilton x Model! Reader
Plot: You are the 'IT GIRL' of celebrities right now. Dating older F1 driver cooks up a storm.
Warnings: Age Gap, Established relationship, Smut (Consisting off Unprotected Sex, Fingering, P In V etc.) Minors Do Not Interact 18+
Credit to alexalbongf for the GIF
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You were currently waiting for Lewis to come home, it was the Monaco GP and you'd left early during his debrief as you were sporting a slight headache from all the excitement.
He knew you'd be there and he knew you were waiting for him. You were sort of a current century IT girl.
That happens when you are on the cover of vouge and in big blockbuster movies alongside modelling for Versace and other big brands that wanted your name.
You were all the talk in the media for the past few years, especially where you were dating Lewis Hamilton. He was 10 year older than you, but he treated you well. Even though you were 23 when you and Lewis started dating, people still seemed to treat you like you were made of glass. Yes, that was probably more to your high profile status and the fact that you're in the public eye.
Lewis treated you like an adult and you loved it, he wasn't in the relationship for publicity or just for a quick time. He had met you at exclusive party that you happened to be at as well as some of the 2018 F1 drivers.
Now in the middle of 2024 and Mercedes had a rocketship for a car, Lewis was on track for winning his 8th World Champion, you and Lewis had been together for 7 years now and what an interesting 7 years it had been. You'd been there for him winning 3 of his championships, seeing him get robbed of his 8th and then have a shit car for the next two seasons while Red Bull seem to be in a horrible sort of domination.
He'd won in Monaco today sharing a Podium with Lando Norris, who was actually his biggest competition this year. Mclaren came out on top, right now it was Mercedes Mclaren and Ferrari dancing around each other and then Red Bull who focused on their 2025 car too early and didn't do enough work with the 2024 car.
The door to the home opens and in walks your beautiful husband.
"How's my race winner" you smile at him, walking over to him slowly. He hangs the keys up to his car on the hook before his hands wrap around your waist pulling you into a hug. He nuzzles his face into your neck, his arms travelling up to stroke your soft hair, running down to the side of your face to hold your face steadily in his hand.
"I haven't stopped thinking about you all day!" he offers, pushing your hair back behind your ear before leaning in, kissing you softly.
"You were thinking about me when you were racing?" you ask with a smirk, stepping closer into him so your arms are able to hold his upper arms, helping you lean up to place a soft, yet sensual kiss on the corner of his mouth.
"I'm always thinking about you baby" he mumbles looking you up and down.
"Well, I think my World Champion deserves a reward!" you smile, grinning at him.
"Mmmmm what kind of reward, I can think of 20 things I'd settle for right now" he admits biting his lip.
"Well, I don't know about you but your fav vegan dish is in the oven. I can run you a nice hot bath and give you a massage, or we can take Rossi on a walk, or we can watch a movie and cuddle.." you say leaning closer into him.
"Hmmmmm, that all sounds very good. But first i want you!" he says pulling into you. He pulls you up so your legs are wrapped around his waist and your arms around around the back of his head. He holds you up while pulling you into a kiss.
He walks you into the bedroom and places you down on the bed, making you bounce into the plush duvet and cushions. You lean up and you elbows moving back a little while Lewis crawls on top of you.
"Such a pretty baby!" he says, as he reaches round the back to unzip the black silk dress you were wearing. He tugs it down, throwing it onto the bedroom floor, a groan coming from him as he sees the matching black set that was on underneath.
He couldn't help but think that you'd been looking that delectable all day, and it didn't help and wouldn't help any future thoughts of what you wore on race days.
"God, Y/N!"
"Lew, come on" you groan, as his hands run up and down the curves of your body. Eventually his fingers work their way around your underwear, while his other hand goes behind you arching back to undo your bra. He skillfully undid it with the one hand while his other focused on your clit.
Your thighs squeezed together in anticipation as you feel his finger on your clit speed up. A gasp comes from you and your hand reaches down to hold his wrist.
"Lewis, i need you please!" you groan as his mouth encases around your left nipple and starting to suck and bite at it leaving hickies along the curve of your breast.
You feel movement on the bed, you look down to see him grinding against the mattress.
"Come here..." you moan and he crawls up the bed. His hand doesn't leave, going the step further and pushing one finger in. You reach down palming him through his trousers.
"Fuck baby, just like that" he groans adding another finger while leaning into your neck and kissing up and along it.
"Just take those pants off" you moan, looking up at him. He shakes his head, adding a third finger going faster.
"You gotta cum for first darling" he breathes out, you gasp watching him closely.
Lewis always put your pleasure first, that was one of the highlights of your relationship is that he always wanted you happy and content, as he would say that it made him happy and content.
He lived by the happy wife happy life memo religiously.
You feel that familiar coil built up and with the way you start moving Lewis speeds up knowing that your close.
"Lewis, Lewis fuck" you gasp as that sensation is released. You breathing slows as you come down.
"Okay, my turn" you say sitting up on your knees, squishing your thighs together.
"I can't wait, for that baby. Gotta be in you now!" he whimpers. He pulls you up so that your against the headboard, he lays you down before positioning himself above you.
He sinks all the way in, the both of you moaning and groaning as you feel every inch of him inside of you. Each ridge, every edge you can feel against your walls as you push further against him to get him deeper. He bottoms out with a sigh of happiness partially collapsing against you.
"I love you Lew, and im so thankful I'm yours" you admit with a gasp as he starts moving back and forth, the thrusts making lewd noises as he grips your hips.
"Say it again!" he exclaims looking at you in the eyes, one of his hands moving from your hip up to your cheek.
"I'm yours Lew, all yours!" you moan arching up into him and clenching.
"I love you so much darling. Fuck" he moans, nipping and biting against your collarbone as he starts to thrust quicker into you. Your own grip tightens on him as that same feeling from earlier resurfaces but more violent.
Your eyes screw shut, the moans coming from you mouth is like music into Lewis' ears. He wishes he could have it as his ringtone, or playing to him before a race. Even during a race, that for sure would make him finish a race quicker knowing he could see you quicker and stuff you full.
"Baby I'm gonna cum" he groans right into your ear making you twitch and attempt to thrust up into him. He holds you still putting pressure on your stomach making you gasp loudly and try to sit up.
"Cum baby, cum in me" you cry, tears start to stream down your face.
"Oh fuck baby" you cry and clench hard round him as he hits that spongey spot that just feels so good. You release with a whine and head thrown back, while Lewis follows helping you both ride out your high.
He collapses on top of you staying sunk inside of you. He kisses you, whispering stuff to you about what he loves, making little plaits in your hair as he goes.
Maybe waiting for Lewis in your mansion wasn't so bad after all.
A/N: This is my first smut on this account, so it will get better when i know what i feel comfortable putting out there!
Taglist:
@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma
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whorekneecentral · 4 months
Text
A Sandy Christmas
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Sugar Daddy!Jenson Button x Fem!Reader
Warnings: the iconic sugar daddy JB, college aged reader (over 20), expensive vacations, gift giving is his love language, you're both soooo all up on each other, the use of daddy both in a sexual and non sexual context, thanking him in good way ;), oral (m!receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), hair pulling, some old man teasing at the end.
Word Count: 1,714
Author's Note: this is for my og jenson girlies that were here from the start, dedicated to the anon that sent in the first sd!jb ask cause you started all of this pookie!!
merry smutmas series
--
Jenson takes you on a dream vacation over the holidays but still makes sure you’ve got a gift to open come Christmas morning.
Exam season is killing you, mentally and physically.
Every bone in your body hurt from being hunched over at your desk for 18 hours a day and your brain felt like it was going to explode if you kept it up for much longer.
Jenson knew as much and he also knew your exam schedule; he couldn't bear to see his girl like that so he did the one thing he did best.
He whisked you away the moment your final exam was over. He knew it'd be a welcomed distraction given that you'd be returning home for the new years; your obnoxious sister was getting married to her high school sweetheart - you'd rather fall down the stairs than attend the wedding but Jenson promised to take you in to trade your car for a new one if you went.
To be fair, he did just get you the car 2 years ago but he figured he needed some sort of reward to get you to go. If he could join you at the wedding, he would but alas he can't.
Sunny Bora Bora was a welcomed distraction; the sunshine, the beaches, the endless cocktails and cock, were keeping you happy.
The first few days were you and Jenson rolling around in bed, lazing and eating whenever, barely getting dressed and spending sun up to sun down on the beach. You had everything you needed right there.
Despite it just being you and Jenson, he rented a whole villa. All the privacy in the world for you two; it was more so, so he could fuck you anywhere he liked but I digress.
Christmas morning and you're woken not by the sunshine but the feeling of Jenson's stubble on your neck.
"Merry Christmas, pretty girl."
You hum, a hand on his jaw. "Merry Christmas, Jense."
"C'mon, I have something to show you." He whispers in your ear, not giving you a moment to gather yourself. Instead he pulls you out of bed, his hand in yours as you sleepily follow him though the villa.
There's a massive Christmas tree by the windows, right in the middle but that was there when you arrived. What wasn't there before were all the gifts surrounding the tree.
"Jenson," you stop, looking at him. There's a grin on his face. "You didn't."
"I couldn't let Christmas pass without giving you a gift." He smiles, kissing your temple as he sits on the couch.
"We agreed that this trip was my Christmas gift."
"But the trip is for me too, so it can't count. Loophole baby," he raises his eyebrows, almost as high as his ego. You huff, "this is more than a gift, Jenson."
"You're a good girl, I'd buy you the world if I could." He tells you, smiling as you kiss him.
"I don't need the world, Jenson." You tell him, sitting in front of the tree. There are at least 20 bags and boxes neatly wrapped and set under the tree.
"I'd still buy it for you, princess." He smiles, taking a sip of his coffee as you unwrapped your gifts one by one; Gucci, Prada, Van Clef, Louis Vuitton - you name it, it was under the tree.
You had no idea how you'd get it all back home.
You thank him, doing a little try on haul as you unwrap the gifts. Jenson smiles, sitting comfortable as he watches you model your gifts for him.
"Happy?" He asks, patting his thigh. You sit yourself on his lap, an arm over his shoulder as you lean into him.
"Beyond happy," you whispered against his lips. "Thank you daddy."
"Anything for you, baby."
The two of you go about your day, you'll be leaving your little paradise tomorrow and returning to reality so you were trying to soak up the last of the sunshine. Lazing by the water, you watched as Jenson attempted to surf, gave up and decided on a swim instead, the man came back to kiss you, dripping the sea water all over you.
You push him away, giggling as he tries to grab at you. You rolled away, getting up and running from him; Jenson chased you down the beach right back to the villa.
Jenson planned dinner for the two of you, a little restaurant not too far from your villa. You wined and dined, chatting about his work and your plans not to strangle your sister with her veil. He assured you that you'd be fine and that as soon as the wedding was over, you could return home to him.
Upon returning, you decide to pack. This way you two could spend more time in bed in the morning rather than having to rush and pack then.
Jenson's back is to you as you bring in the last of your presents from the living room. He'd manage to fold what you had brought with you into the one suitcase opposed to the two it was in originally and had been trying to fix your gifts into the empty one.
He feels your arm wrap around his waist, fingers drumming against his midriff as you watch him put the boxes into the suitcase.
You're on your tiptoes, a kiss pressed to his jaw; Jenson thinks it's innocent enough and yet, he feels your lips drop lower. From his jaw to his neck and your fingers are pulling at his shirt collar, trying to expose more skin.
"Sweetheart," he whispers, swatting away your wandering hands. "We need to pack."
"Mhm hm," you turn him to face you, your hand on his jaw when you kiss him. Jenson leans on the edge of the bed, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him
He was easy like that, a kiss from you and he's like putty in your hands.
He watches as your fingers trail down the front of his shirt, sliding under the hem of it. Jenson takes that as his hint to take it off, tossing it on the floor somewhere. Your hand wanders further down, brushing over the cold metal of his belt. 
Jenson smiles, pecking your lips softly. "Let me thank you," you whispered against his lips. His brows furrow, "what for?"
"Everything," you tell him, sinking down onto your knees in front of him.
Jenson undoes his belt and the button, “open.” 
Without hesitation, your mouth opens and you’re looking up at him once again. He slaps your tongue with his cock softly, waiting for a reaction. The slight curve of your lips was enough for him to know it was okay. A hand tangled in your hair, pulling and pushing you, setting the pace. 
The stifled gag was enough for him to pull back, giving you a moment to catch your breath. 
His eyes fixed on you as your lips wrap around his cock, his chest dropping and raising with each breath.
He can’t help but notice the lipstick on the base of his cock, your head bobbing up and down. Jenson's hand pulls your hair away from your face, letting you set the pace.
His hand turns over and you feel his knuckles brush along your cheek. “Like being on your knees for me, hm? My good girl.” 
The praise hits you straight in the core, only making you go faster. Your cheeks hollow as you bob your head up and down. Jenson's hips buck, your nose brushing against him. 
His head falls back against the couch, breathing out a string of explicits as you hollow your cheeks. “C’mere.” He pulls you off him slowly, savouring the feeling of your tongue sliding up the underside of his cock.
You kiss him, the moan slipping from your lips as he manhandles you.
“Turn around,” he whispers against your lips, a hand on your hip as he turns you around to face the bed. 
Your arms are propped on the mattress, holding yourself up. He pushes your dress up, bunching over your hips. His hand slips between your thighs, fingers brushing over your panties and your head drops forward. 
Panties pushed to the side and Jenson reached forward, a hand tangled in your hair to pull you up, forcing you to look at the reflection in the window. His other hand holds your hip once he pushes into you. 
“See,” he mumbles to himself, glancing down between the two of you before his eyes meet yours in the reflection. “Look how pretty you are,” he whispers, kissing along the back of your shoulder as his hips dig into your ass. 
The knot in your stomach tightens when his hand on your hip slips down between your legs, reaching for your clit. He barely moves his fingers before your own hand reaches down to rest on his. The feeling of his fingers pulls your attention.
"Please daddy-" you're cut off by a moan and by Jenson pushing you down onto the bed.
You prop yourself up on your forearms once again, eyes fixed on anything but what he was doing. 
He could feel you clenching around him, pushing back into him for more.
“Shh, it’s okay baby, I know.” He tells you, thrusts getting sloppier by the second.
The two of you in sync, Jenson's chest pressed to your back as you came down from your orgasm. He peppered kisses all over your back, rubbing your side softly. He leans to press a kiss to your neck before pulling out slowly. 
You can feel Jenson wiping your thighs and between your legs, cleaning you up before fixing your dress. You're still facedown in the mattress, too fucked out to even think about moving at the moment. He senses as much, giving you a push by the ass and up onto the bed you went.
The clink of his belt comes from behind you, the man fixing his pants - you assumed he'd be joining you in bed but instead, you heard some sort of shuffling behind you.
Rolling you, you see that Jenson had resumed his packing from before.
"You know," you start, sitting up. "Most men your age are dead to the world after a fuck like that."
Jenson laughs, walking over to you. His hand cups your jaw, "I'm not like most guys my age."
--
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theother-victoria · 1 month
Text
been thinking of street racing with aventurine bc I imagine he’d like the thrill of it too…
tags: not proofread, I typed this out in tumblr drafts, some suggestive comments, flirting, gn reader, I don't know anything about street racing so pls forgive any inaccuracies, banter (they're so silly)
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Aventurine, who pulls up to the race in an edgy and sleek sports car, drawing the attention of everyone else there- yours included.
You lean against the side of your car, watching him as he leaves opponent after opponent in the dust. He's skilled, you'll give him that. From the aggressive driving style and the make and model of the car, you're betting it's just some bored teenage boy with daddy's money to burn, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't at least a little bit curious about the person behind the wheel.
A few easy wins later that night and you're slated to race against him. He takes his sweet time pulling up to the finish line, but to your surprise, he rolls his window down for the first time that night and you're able to get a good look at him. He's no teenage boy but he has the same mischievous look that implies he's up to no good.
"Checking me out already?" he remarks, his (captivating) eyes twinkling in delight, although they're hidden behind his sunglasses. "And I thought I'd for sure be the one to make the first move."
Oh, so he's a flirt too. You can barely hear him over the loud purring of his expensive and modded car's engine and you know tonight's race will be a tight one.
"I see you've got money. What's a rich boy like you doing all the way out here?"
His grin widens.
"Ooh, you’re sharp. I like that and the way you talk.”
"Why don't you tell me who you are first?"
He laughs and shakes his head. He rolls up the window, much to your irritation, but not before saying one last thing and sending a wink your way.
"If you win, I'll tell you who I am. How does that sound?"
Damn. No other choice but to accept since the race is about to start.
You end up losing, but just barely. You had to push your car to its limits and he wasn't above playing dirty too, giving you a couple of close calls throughout. Although, he at least didn't endanger your life like some others have in the past, so you'll give him that.
After the race ends, you pull into a brightly-lit gas station with some people there. Shortly after, another car pulls up next to you and he steps out.
"Not bad, not bad," he says, clapping lightly. "It's not often that I find someone that can at least keep up with me, much less overtake me a couple times."
"So you were following me."
He raises his hands as a mock display of innocence.
"Hey, relax! Don't be so hostile! I just wanted to get to know you a bit better, that's all. Besides, you wanted to know who I am, right?"
You watch as he scribbles something onto a business card.
"Wasn't that only applicable if I won?"
"Eh, I've changed my mind now," he says, handing the card to you. "I don't make deals that don’t pay off and I'd consider it a loss if I didn't get at least your number tonight."
"You still didn't answer my original question. What's someone like you doing all the way out here? Surely you have more important matters to attend to, right?"
He laughs.
"Wow, you really don't know who I am, huh?"
"... What's that supposed to mean?"
"Ah, nothing. Just talking to myself. But to answer your question... I suppose it's because I enjoy the thrill of it. It's like gambling. Not knowing whether you'll win or lose, or even live or die. After all, the higher the stakes, the higher the excitement- why're you looking at me like that?"
"… You're insane."
"Sure, sure, sweetheart. I'll pretend that your reasons aren't the same as mine and that the adrenaline rush doesn't excite you every time. Why else would you willingly race, night after night?"
With one last wink, he gets into his car and drives away. You finally glance at the business card, only to do a double take and gape at it in shock when you realize its contents.
Aventurine, one of the IPC's Ten Stonehearts? No way... this guy's an IPC exec?
You don't know whether to feel proud about the fact that you got an IPC executive's number without trying or humiliated about the whole exchange...
There's a winking smiley face and an "call me xoxo" written next to the phone number.
And against your better judgement, you do just that.
He turns out to be an interesting companion. You'd think that with his demanding position, he'd be traveling all over the galaxy every day- which is true, to an extent, but he's always there for your weekly races and frequently drags you out shopping with him. He teaches you how to play poker and how to count your cards, if you didn't know how to already. He then tries to get you to play a round or two against him, which you promptly refuse each time.
("I spent all that time teaching you how to play and this is what I get in return? Boo, you're no fun. But a round or two never hurt anyone, right?"
"Aventurine, even a round or two is a surefire way to go into debt to you. Absolutely not."
He pouts and grumbles like a little kid every time.)
He also pays for additional mods to your car. When you try to refuse him, he merely brushes off your concerns.
"Sweetheart, I don't think you understand," he said back then. "I make more in a day than what it costs to mod your car. To me, this is nothing. Besides, I want an opponent who can keep up with me. If you start falling behind, well, then that's no fun for both of us, right?"
One night, there’s a particularly high-stakes race that you’re slated to compete in. The cash prize is one that’s too big for anyone to pass up.
Well, except for Aventurine. That amount of money is probably nothing by his standards.
For once, he’s not racing. When it’s your turn, he waves you over with a teasing smile as you’re getting ready.
“Say, how about raising the stakes for tonight?”
“What now?”
“Let’s make a bet.”
“… Fine.”
“If you win, we go on a date together. My treat, of course. If you lose, then you’ll have to play a round of poker with me.”
There isn’t an ounce of shame in his words. You openly gape at him as he beams at you proudly.
“… What?”
“You heard me.”
“Why though?”
He shrugs.
“Simple. I know this is a bet that will pay off. And I’ve been wanting this to happen for a long time now. So…”
He leans in close, lips teasingly brushing over your ear for a moment.
“Don’t disappoint me. I want to see you try and turn the tides in your favor for this race.”
You pull away from him.
“I accept, but only because I am not going into debt because of poker.”
He laughs.
“Go on then, sweetheart. I want to see you leave everyone behind in the dust. Oh, and don’t forget your good luck kiss!”
Aventurine blows a kiss to you. You roll your eyes as you climb into your car. Insufferable, that’s what he is. But if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s reading people. Meaning he must’ve noticed that you wanted this too.
You roll your neck and focus on the road ahead. The race is about to begin.
That cash prize and date with Aventurine is yours.
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hello! could you write something with zen echo and ramattra (sorry if that's too many characters) with a human reader who kisses them even tho they don't really have a mouth, I'd like to know their reactions
Kissing robots is so good <3
Kissing Zenyatta
Kisses aren’t a display that surprises him, really!
It might have been pretty anticlimactic the first instance that you had press your lips to his faceplate, a gesture of which he gently leaned into and remained patiently still, until you pulled away
But he would still sometimes entertain you with a prized “oh!” as if he hadn’t expected it
He only apologized the first time for not being able to return the favor the same way, but he was delighted by receiving such a human affection! It pleases him immensely that you would demonstrate this kind of love as if he were human
The best he could do to reciprocate was to press his forehead against yours, lean carefully into your touch, or nudge his jaw against your cheek
He’d be ridiculously gentle doing these things, highly aware that he was of metal and that humans bruise quite easily.
When you would kiss him where he would have a mouth, he liked to respond with a verbal “mwah!” or other kiss sound
You both would also have a habit of blowing kisses to one another as well. He loves pretending to catch yours, and would feign placing it on his cheek before signing “I love you” with his hand
But he also liked to take your hands in his and press your knuckles to the nine lights of his forehead, feeling the warmth of his glow against your hands in his own means of returning the gesture
Sometimes he even asks for kisses, very politely. It’s hard to refuse (but why would you?)
Kissing Echo
Considering her face is just a hologram, you both occasionally forget that and share an amused moment when trying to kiss each other
Sometimes it’s definitely on purpose though! Feigning a kiss upon one another’s mouth with sweet smiles, and an especially elated giggle from Echo
Your one-sided kisses always make her gasp, an expressive look of joyous surprise on her face that leaves her mouth agape
She finds it so interesting, curious, and will lift to you her hands and turn her head from side to side asking “Can you do that here? And what about from here?”
So it’s not really a one-and-done— if you kiss her, you’re gonna end up doing quite a couple. She loves it very much
She doesn’t seem bothered that she can’t truly kiss you back, and if asked she’ll tell you “I think there’s something just as special about pretending!”
And it’s true. The make-believe gestures of affection are something very unique to her that may as well be real in its own way
Just because she couldn’t kiss you doesn’t mean she wasn’t. It may not be the same, but it felt no different than if she could. And it was fun, and worth her reactions
She could never bore of your kisses, nor tire of returning them.
Kissing Ramattra
Ramattra, on the other hand, would somehow end up shocked by your kisses every single time without fail. Subtly flinching as if you’d accidentally surprised him
He’d make a disgruntled noise after your display, but he’d never ask you to stop. He would, however, make sure now and again that you didn’t think he was going to be able to suddenly kiss you back one day
Sometimes he’d mutter something about “human gestures”, but it was hard to discern if it was bringing him offense or not. But again, he never told you he didn’t like it— and he was pretty open about telling you the things that brought him unease
It was more like he was just tolerating it for a while, but he’d eventually begin appreciating it
While he can’t kiss you, he does have a similar gesture that brings him a lot more satisfaction when you attempt to do the same
His specific model can summon a very brief vibration from behind the “mouth” of his faceplate, an old discreet means of communicating that uses the gentle buzz as something similar to Morse code. The pulses produce no sound, but emits a small encoded wave between omnics— like sending a text directly into someone’s mind
It wasn’t a language any human could decipher, but he’d press his ‘mouth’ to your neck or cheek and speak a quick note of affection there, anyway.
You seemed to understand it was loving. And when one day he’d tucked his face into your shoulder and his faceplate pulses ticklishly against your skin again, he was suddenly ecstatic when you leaned your throat against his head and hummed quickly, in the same rhythm he did, mocking his gesture
So, technically, you were telling him you loved him back by repeating his ‘message’, and you had no idea.
He wouldn’t admit a thing to you, but you could tell it made him pretty happy.
And while he preferred his version of “kisses” to yours, he would never turn down your ways of showing him that you loved him
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frickingnerd · 7 months
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kiss me before i lose my mind
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pairing: luka couffaine x gn!reader
summary: luka knows he really shouldn't kiss you in public, to keep your relationship a secret. but he just can't keep his hands off you...
tags: secret relationship, marinette crushing on luka, adrien crushing on reader, open ending, luka is a bad liar
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seeing you smile at him like this but being unable to hold you close and kiss you was absolutely killing luka. 
but you and luka had decided to keep your relationship a secret from your friends, ever since the two of you got together a few weeks ago. after all, making your relationship public would only end up hurting someone. everyone knew that marinette had a thing for luka, as well as that adrien had a little crush on you as well. those two were your friends and you really didn't want to hurt them by making out in front of them, but it was getting harder and harder as time went by to keep your relationship a secret. 
the two of you were currently at a party that rose was hosting, having arrived there separately, only to find your way towards each other once everyone had arrived. despite trying to keep it hidden, you still couldn't stay away from each other. and keeping your hands to yourself was just as hard, if not harder… 
"please, stop smiling at me like that. i'm not sure what will happen if you keep doing that…"
luka's eyes went back and forth between you and the dancefloor, where all of his friends were dancing together. despite having found a more secluded spot, he was sure someone would notice if he'd kiss you right now. though he really couldn't keep away from you for long… 
"luka… i always smile like that"
you replied amused, gently resting a hand on your boyfriend's cheek, only for him to remove it and take your hand into his own. 
"then i guess i never realized how pretty you look…" luka leaned in a bit. "i really, really want to kiss you right now…" 
you could feel his breath against your lips and the loud music in the background. yet somehow, luka's breathing sounded so much louder than the music, as he tried to control himself and stop himself from pulling you into a kiss. 
"and the others? if they see us, they–"
"would it be selfish if i said i don't care anymore…? i know they're our friends, but… as our friends, they should be happy for us! and nothing would make me happier than kissing you already…"
luka was barely holding himself back anymore. his lips shaking with anticipation, just waiting to finally meet yours. 
"just one kiss, alright?"
you both know that it wouldn't stay at just one. but luka mumbled a quick "sure" out, before pressing his lips onto yours, his hands finding their way onto your hips and pulling you closer. you closed your eyes, immersing yourself into the moment. after a few seconds, luka pulled away for a quick second to gasp for air, only to press his lips onto yours for a second and then third kiss. 
you only pulled away from each other when you heard someone approach, a familiar voice calling out to the two of you. 
"is everything okay…?"
you quickly pulled away from each other. luka towered over you, covering adrien's view of you, which led to the model only getting a good view of luka's back. 
you stared into luka's eyes for a moment, a panicked look on both of your faces, before you put on a smile and turned around to face your friend. 
"yeah, all good here!" luka smiled, trying to look as calm as he always did. "i just… got my necklace entangled in their clothes… you know how it is!"
you bit down on your bottom lip, trying not to grin after that awful lie luka told. and yet, adrien seemed to buy it. 
"oh, i see! then, if you don't mind, would you like to dance with me, y/n..?"
you turned to luka for a moment, almost as if asking for his permission. though in the end, you knew you had no reason to refuse adrien's request. 
"sure, i'd love to!" you replied and the blonde boy's face lit up. "we'll talk again later then, luka~!"
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oracle-of-dream · 8 days
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Now that I know you write for svt can you please do a dom Mingyu x sub male reader smut with size kink?
I'll do you one better.
Photo Finisher
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Minors DNI
Summary: Another day, another dick... A photoshoot for Cosmopolitan rolled your way with a promising model. Seventeen's largest member, Mingyu, asked for you by name...
Warnings: (Not Proofread) Male Reader, Size Kink, Massive Cock Mingyu, Creampie, Cockwarming, Carry/Lifting Sex, Struggles of fat cocks, Daddy nickname, Mention of blood (not related to sex), Cursing, Painful sex
Wordcount: 2k
Images flicked by as you tossed through the pages of recent issues of Cosmopolitan magazine. You could tell the photos were taken by professionals but lacked that glow that you enjoyed in your pictures. It just wasn't the same without it. You'd been commissioned by the magazine's owner to take photos for their next cover, apparently, their model asked for you specifically but withheld their identity from you.
Irritated, you walked into the studio, looking around for who your mystery client was. They have some nerve to call for you and not even give you a name. How the hell were you supposed to start and pre-work without knowing your client or studying other photos of them?
Your manager approached you, seeing your expression. "Y/n, I know you're not in the best of moods but let's not do anything to get us fired."
"Fired?" You raised your eyebrow. "Whoever this means so much to the company, I could get fired!?"
"No–" You ignored your manager's horrible attempt at recovery as you marched over to the dressing room door. He stepped in the way, blocking you from entering. "Just promise there won't be any blood to clean!"
"I'll make sure the bleeding will be internal. If you don't move, it'll be you internally bleeding."
They sheepishly moved aside, granting you access. You threw open the door to see a man with bronze skin, broad shoulders, and a military cut. He turned to you with a big smile. "Hello! You must be my photographer. I'm Mingyu, from Seventeen."
"Hi, Mingyu." You slowly entered the room, only the sound of your shoes clicking on the floor. "Why did you hide your name from me in the beginning?"
"I thought you might say no if you knew who I was... I've heard you're very picky with clients." Mingyu's head lowered like a puppy. "I hope that's not too much to ask."
You rolled your eyes. For someone so big, he was so docile... "Don't do that again. It's impolite." He nodded diligently. You sized him up; He was much taller than you, with a bicep the size of your head, and his chest bulged in the button-up he was wearing–the button held on for life. "Let's try and start again. I'm Y/n, and I'll be your photographer."
"I'm Mingyu, from Seventeen. It's nice to meet you." Mingyu stretched out a massive hand to shake yours, which made you feel small as he enclosed it in the handshake.
"Now we're acquaintances. Do you have any questions about my process?" You crossed your arms, trying to appear larger but it was useless against the mountain before you. Mingyu shifted his weight, looking around at the other staff in the dressing room. You scoffed, "Can we have the room please?" The makeup and clothing staff rushed out, relieved to get away from you. "Your questions. Speak."
Mingyu shifted awkwardly again before opening his mouth, "I-I didn't expect you to be so forward about things. I just want to look as good as possible, and you're very talented. So, I'd like to ask for whatever treatment is necessary."
It sounded like he practiced this speech a few times before speaking it. You smirked at the thought of him nervously practicing for you. "Sure. Do you know what you want?"
"W-What I want?"
"Yes. You've got to have something, right?"
"What can I ask for?"
"Nothing too physically damaging, I still need to work. But I want what you want, so tell me what you like about me."
Mingyu's eyes scanned you, as he'd been doing since you'd walked in. He honed in on your waist. "I wanna hold you."
"Okay, that's simple." You kicked off your shoes and waited for his embrace. When Mingyu lifted you off the ground by your waist, you gripped his arms for balance.
"Is this okay?"
"Fine. Just wasn't expecting to come off the ground..." You were level with his face now, about to admire his features much closer. His attached earlobes made his whole ear look larger cutely rounding out his face. But his sharp cheekbones and facial lines made him look more like a man–as well as his impressive figure.
"You're so... small." You'd never been called small before. The way Mingyu experimentally squeezed your sides forced a moan from you. "And you're voice is so... cute." Mingyu pulled you into him, holding you to his chest, you could feel his heartbeat racing.
"You're so excited already?"
"Maybe... I've got a thing for small things." He smirked at you, looking down at you. "When do we... do more?"
"Whenever you're ready. I've already prepared myself, but you may break me anyway..."
"I'm not a kid. I try not to break my toys," Mingyu's low voice rumbled in his chest as he lifted you to his lips easily. His lips engulfed yours as he shifted his arms to your legs, making you wrap around him. Even his tongue was thick when it forced past your lips. You twitched wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him close. Mingyu walked you to a chair, sitting down while setting you in his lap. "Come on, Mr. Photographer. Show me more." The smugness in his voice was completely different from the shy man you were talking to moments ago. You tried to lift your shirt over your head but Mingyu stopped you. "I want to fuck you in your clothes..."
"Fine. That's easier for me, but try not to mess your clothes up."
"I'll have to cum in you to not make a mess."
"Is that you trying to ask or are you telling me?"
"Depends on which one lets me cream you."
"Both do." You giggled as you slid your pants down enough for your ass to hang out.
Mingyu lifted you onto your knees, balancing you on his lap, to smack your ass a few times. One hand focused on kneading your ass while the other unbuttoned Mingyu's pants. Your hands on his massive shoulders, looking so small, Mingyu loved every second of watching you shake over him. When he managed to unleash his cock, he smiled up at you, "You wanna look first?"
You took a glance over your shoulder. It was at least ten inches. Probably–Definitely more. "That's going in me? You'll kill someone with that one day."
"No one's died yet."
"How do you want me?"
"You're gonna ride it."
You scoffed, "Are you serious? How could I lower myself onto that?"
"I'll help you. Don't worry, Daddy's got you." He winked.
"Fuck you." Your tongue poked your cheek as you reached down to line yourself with his cock. Mingyu's hands gripped your waist, their warms making your skin tingle. He held you tightly, ready to control how much cock you'd get at any time. "Just don't slam me down. I'd like to be able to walk for the rest of today."
"I thought I was supposed to get what I like."
"And I said no physical harm."
He nodded. "Of course. You're the boss."
"Sure, Daddy," You said as you slid onto his tip. It was so thick that your hole was already stretching more than you prepared yourself for. "Jesus," You whispered, trying to keep yourself stable on his shoulders.
"Leave on me as much as you need. Take your time, it's no rush."
"Don't piss me off," You grunted through gritted teeth. You were taking your time, but it just kept going. Every time you sank an inch, you used your hand to feel how much was left to go–and it always felt like you hadn't made any progress. "You fat cock, fucker."
"Are you cursing at me?" Mingyu raised an eyebrow.
"No, I was just–Holy fuck!" Mingyu pushed you down onto him, more than you were ready for. "What the fuck!?"
"Don't curse at me. I told you to take all the time you needed, and you're not listening. That's not my fault." You took deep breaths through your nose to keep yourself from crying. The pain raked through your whole body as your hole was still so tight it could barely stretch for Mingyu.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to curse."
"That's better. Now, let me help you." Mingyu lifted you, making your eyes roll as your guts moved back into place. Then he lowered you back down, making your nails dig into his shoulders. "That's it, squeeze as hard as you like. I've got you." Mingyu's words were soft-spoken and light as he moved you like a weight at the gym. At every down, he made you take more of him. He continued this pattern until you sat completely on his lap, his entire cock somehow buried inside you. Your mouth hung open but no sound could describe the full feeling you were experiencing. You'd had so many types of cocks, but one like this was different. He was a monster and he was balls deep inside you. "I don't think you can move, so I'll do it for you then." Mingyu used you, like a fleshlight, holding you tighter as he lifted his hips into you.
Your mouth overflowed with drool, dripping down onto your chest. Mingyu leaned forward and licked it up. "Such a mess slut, aren't you? You just use your job to get free cock from idols. Is the 'glow' thing even real, or do you just like getting stuffed?"
As much as you wanted to argue, your brain was full of static. You couldn't work your mouth right, only shallow gasps and soft moans spilled out.
"Let's end this now, we've still got work to do," Mingyu grunted as he stood, carrying you with him. He loosened his grip on you to let you slide until you were perpendicular to his torso. Your legs on his shoulders, his hands supporting your back and waist, and his cock pointing straight inside you. "Try not to scream. And don't bother holding your orgasm back. It's better to watch you cum all over yourself." Mingyu thrust once, forcing a loud moan out of you as your eyes rolled.
You had to focus on not letting your head dangle or you'd choke on your own tongue. But it was pretty difficult with the way you were pushed by each thrust and pulled back in with the momentum of your body. Mingyu moved at a moderate pace, but the strength behind each thrust made it feel like he was drilling you. You were being forced over the edge at 100 MPH.
"Please, cum... fast," You begged.
"For you cutie, I'll do just that. But, it'll be tough, so try not to bite your tongue off." Mingyu smiled as he cocked his hips back further and hit you with the same speed and power, but making more of his dick move. It was enough to instantly force you to cum, making a mess as ropes of cum shot all over your shirt. Your tightening hole made it harder for Mingyu to keep himself together as he went to town on you. His thrust had a moan behind it as his sweat dripped onto your body. "I'm gonna cum–come 'ere," Mingyu pulled you up as he hugged you tightly, fucking you through his high. The way his cock bulged with each wave of cum that passed through his cock was devilish. His whole body was made for fucking and it took you so long to realize it.
When you gained enough sanity to register the rest of the room around you, Mingyu was sitting back in the chair holding you as you laid on top of him–his cock still inside you.
"We've gotta work," You groaned as you tried to climb off. But Mingyu's grip on your body was so tight that you couldn't move.
"Five more minutes. Then work."
Mingyu held you hostage for almost fifteen minutes before you convinced him to let you go. You had to have an intern wheel you around in a chair to get your photos, but you still got them... All while Mingyu had that dumb smirk on his face, as he stared at you through the lens.
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roguerogerss · 7 months
Text
Show You How Much I Love You
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Pairing: Michael Gray x Reader
W/C: 3.5k
Warnings: SMUT!!, the second half is just sex, bit of a praise kink, talk of injuries and blood (not related to the smut!)
Description: After Michael gets shot, you’ve been visiting him in the hospital every day. He has a realisation on his last day there, and when you get home, he shows you how much he’s missed you.
(took a lil break from writing tommy all the time - he will be back! promise! - and did a lil spin for michael. i’ve been OBSESSED with both of them recently. so proud of the smut in this bc it’s literally only my second full on smut!!! let me know what u think babes! b back with tommy shtuff sooooon)
You hated the hospital. The building always smelled of antiseptic, slightly bitter, but with the added scent of artificial fragrance contained in soaps and cleaning products. And what was worse, the smell would linger on your clothes and in your hair, even hours after you'd left, and you'd have to bathe after every time you visited, to avoid going to bed smelling like death.
"Morning, Miss L/N." The nurses had gotten to know you over the last five weeks, and they'd always greet you when you came to visit. As much as you hated the hospital, and it's smell, the nurses made your visits very slightly more bareable.
"Good morning, Margaret." You sighed, smoothing your hair down and fixing the fur collar of your coat. "How is he, today?"
"He's had some great news today, ma'am. I think you'll be delighted." Margaret smoothed a hand over your back and then hurried off, the nurses were always on the run. You wondered what news your boyfriend could possibly have gotten that would've delighted you, considering all you'd had the past five weeks was more death, upset, and terrible news.
You climbed the stairs, still fussing over your hair, and your coat, and pulling out a small, pocket mirror to fix your lipstick in. You always ended up going to the hospital dressed like a model, because Michael had told you the first time that seeing you all dressed up had been the only thing he was looking forward to.
You plucked a cigarette from your pocket, and balanced it between your lips as you reached his room, "Miss L/N! No smoking, please! It's not allowed.", You waved the nurse off.
You took a slow drag from your cigarette, filling your lungs, and then pushed the door to Michael's room open. You beamed when you saw him, standing by his bed, something he hadn't done for the entirety of his time in recovery.
He held his arms out when he saw your smile, smiling himself, as though he was presenting a gift to you. "Well?"
"Oh my God, Michael!" You ran for him, giggling as you did, and you were met with a grunt when you dived into his arms. Michael stumbled backwards slightly as he wrapped his arms around you, before regaining his balance. His chest stung in all the places he'd been shot, but he didn't care too much. You looked so happy, something you hadn't been since finding out about the mafia, and he wasn't going to take that away from you.
"Jesus." He laughed at your excitement, "I'm still sore, sweetheart."
"Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm just...You look so much better."
"I feel better. They've been doing physical therapy the past few days, getting me up on my feet, finally got up on my own today."
"Margaret told me you'd had good news, was it this?"
"This, and," He reached behind him and produced a piece of paper from the bedside cabinet. The words "Discharge Notice" were printed in black at the top of the page. "This."
You gasped, "You're getting out? Today?"
"Yes." He nodded, and you clasped a hand over your mouth, ready to squeal with excitement. Michael interrupted, grasping your wrist between his fingers, "But, love, I'd have to stay with you, so it's only if you'll have me. If it'll be too much of a bother, I can stay here-"
"Michael, don't be daft." You moved your hand from your mouth, to press each palm to Michael's cheeks. "Of course I'll have you. It'd be my pleasure."
He sighed and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close, so that your noses were touching. "Are you sure? It's not going to be pretty for the first couple of weeks. Changing bandages, cleaning bullet holes-"
"Michael." You interrupted him quickly, thumb swiping over a small, stitched scar on his cheek. "Of course I'm sure. I mean, it was only a matter of time before we moved in together, anyway, wasn't it? I suppose, it's not under the circumstances we'd like it to have been, but I want to do it."
A comfortable silence fell on the room, Michael was simply smiling, green eyes exploring yours. You ran your fingers over the new scars on his face, and found yourself frowning when you reached a particularly deep one, straight through his eyebrow. He breathed out, "I love you, so much."
You'd never heard anyone say anything with such passion, but Michael had never meant something more in his life. Tommy always spoke about feeling like you'd been pardoned by God when you should've died, and everything else being extra, borrowed time. He didn't think he could live another day without helping you to feel exactly how much you meant to him.
"I love you too, Michael." He was hardly listening to you, just thinking about things he needed to say to you.
"More than anything, you know that, don't you?" He continued. You looked at him, eyes full of concern.
"What's going on?" You were convinced there was something really wrong that he wasn't telling you about.
"Nothing's going on, my love." Michael smoothed your hair down comfortingly, chewing on the side of his lip while he thought about what to say next. "I nearly died, Y/N. I should've died, John did, and he didn't get to tell Esmé that he loved her again. I need you to know what you mean to me. Need you to know how much I love you."
He let his forehead fall against yours, sighed, and squeezed his eyes shut. Tears were threatening to fall, and he knew you'd get upset if you saw him cry. But you'd already sensed he was unsettled, and you pressed your lips to his cheek, and then to his nose, and then to his lips, he loved how loving you were.
"I'm going to show you how much I love you, how much you mean to me. As soon as I can, I'll help you around the house, I'll do everything I can for you." He clasped his hands together at the back of your neck, holding you far enough away that he could really look at you, breaths slightly shaky. "And when I'm better, really better, I mean, I want to marry you."
Your eyes widened, you supposed you might've looked scared to anyone who didn't know you too well. "Michael-"
"I'm serious. If I asked you, right now, to be my wife-"
You shook your head, a grin making it's way onto your face now. "Michael-"
"Will you marry me?" He sounded so serious. You'd spoken about getting married before, and you'd both meant what you'd said, but you hadn't expected he'd ask you so soon. You'd been together just over a year, but you were both still young, and nearly four months of your relationship had just been casual nights together.
"Are you proposing to me?" You were really smiling now. As much as you were young, and as much as you hadn't quite expected this, you were excited. Of course you wanted to marry Michael.
"If that's what you want this to be." He was smiling down at you, grasping both of your hands in his own. He’d have gotten down on one knee if he could’ve, and he felt a slight pang of guilt knowing this wasn’t quite the proposal you’d probably hoped for.
But you didn’t care. Growing up, you’d wanted a big wedding, with a big proposal beforehand, but having someone who you loved as much as you loved Michael, he could’ve proposed to you at a funeral and you’d have said yes. “Well, if that's what's happening, then yes."
"You'll marry me?" The surprise in his voice was completely unmasked. He’d had no idea you’d actually say yes.
"Yes. Yes, Michael, I'll marry you." You felt yourself doing a little jump up and down out of excitement.
"Are you serious?"
"Of course I'm serious!"
Michael arms were around your waist, now, picking you up from the ground and kissing you, completely ignoring the burn in his chest. Your lips always felt made for eachother when he kissed you, and this time was no different, if not even better. You hadn’t been kissing him half as much as you normally would, what with everything going on, and it almost felt desperate, needy.
"Tomorrow, I'll go out, and I'll buy you a ring, alright? Tommy owes me money, I'll use that to buy you the biggest one I can find." You laughed at Michael's excitement. "But this is official. We're engaged, love."
"We're engaged." You repeated, tears in your eyes, and let Michael take your face in his hands and kiss you again. You couldn't quite believe what had just happened - truth be told, neither could Michael - and you certainly didn't ever expect it to happen in a hospital room, but you were excited nonetheless.
"Come on, I've got all of my things packed, let's go home."
-
As soon as you stepped through the door to your apartment, you were apologising to Michael for the "state of the place". You weren't entirely used to having him round, and so felt you had to explain the little messes that you'd often leave laying around.
"Sorry, it's a bit of a mess. I've not been home too often. And it's not as big as yours, I know-"
Michael stopped you before you rambled on about how the fireplace wasn't lit, and you hadn't washed your dishes from that morning, and how you'd left all of your makeup out on the bathroom vanity because you hadn't time to put it away.
"Stop it." He soothed you, pressing a finger to your lips and looking around at your ground floor flat. It certainly wasn't much, but he actually liked your house better than his own. It was smaller, and therefore cozier, and he found the looks he got from neighbours the morning after you'd slept together funny, knowing they'd heard you screaming his name the night before. "It's perfect."
You smiled, half-heartedly, and gestured to the living room doorway, "Here, you can lay down on the sofa, and I can make some lunch. What would you like? Oh, and when do I have to change your bandages, do you remember?" You swung open the kitchen cabinet, searching through the groceries you'd bought the day before. "I'm not sure what I could make. I can go to the store, I think it should still be open-"
"Love, stop." Michael stepped closer to you, hands settling on each of your shoulders. "Just take a minute, calm down, we've got time."
"I know. I know, I just-"
"Don't." He let a hand slip down your arm and into your own, "You've said yes to marrying me today, I'm very much happy dealing with your unwashed dishes, and you can make me lunch any time, now, okay? I'm here to stay."
"Come on, fiancé." Michael grinned at you. "Lay with me, please? Missed you."
You sighed, and turned to close the cabinet door behind you. You were quick to stress yourself out, and normally you'd argue that you couldn't just lay down and forget about the things you needed to do, but you'd missed him too. "Okay."
Michael led you down the hallway and into your bedroom, he'd been here before, but you'd spend most of your time together at his house or at the office, so it felt strange having him in your bedroom. He was one to make himself at home, and today was no different. As soon as he reached your bed, the shirt that he was wearing was unbuttoned and on the floor, and he was sprawled out on top of the sheets, gesturing for you to join him.
You tried to lay down next to him, but he had other plans, hands reaching out to grip your hips and pull you on top of him, one knee on either side of his torso. "Michael!" You giggled.
"Oh, come on. I haven't had any time alone with you in over a month." His hands started to make their way under your dress, and you almost let him, until you snapped back to reality and noticed the bandage wrapped around his body.
"I know." You wanted to, you really wanted to, but you found yourself smacking his hand away before he was able to get past your thigh. "But you're still recovering."
"I'm fit enough." He raised an eyebrow at you, and you were certainly considering it. He could definitely be very convincing, when he wanted to.
"Are you sure?" You stuck your bottom lip out, pouting at him.
"I'm sure, baby." His hands found their way to your waist, and he was looking up at you with what you could only describe as hunger in his eyes, jaw clenched. He made it so hard for you to say no. "Come on, let me prove it to you. Let me show you how much I love you.”
"I don't know, Michael-"
"Please, sweetheart." He interrupted you, "Missed your body. Been so desperate for you."
Hearing him say he was desperate for you had a knot growing in your stomach. You sighed, weighing up the options you had, but ultimately deciding that you'd both be unable to think about anything else if you didn't have sex.
"Okay. Alright, but if you feel like you need to stop, you stop. Okay?"
"I will. Thank you, darling." You could feel him hardening through his trousers, and it had you biting down hard on your lips, having been waiting for this moment to come since he could sit up straight. He'd teased you while in the hospital, talked dirty, touched you every now and again, but it was hard to find a time when a nurse wasn't going to walk in and scold him for being too active, and Polly wasn't going to come in for a visit. "Now, come here."
He pushed himself up, back against the headboard, and dipped his head to connect your lips. It was fast, rough, a clash of teeth and tongue and lips, he'd missed you, and you were making it clear that you'd thought about him for the entire time he'd been in the hospital.
His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer so that you were chest to chest. He could feel his wounds burning when your torso collided with his, but the taste of your lips on his and the feeling of having you so close again quickly dissolved any discomfort he felt.
He was so needy for you, hips bucking upwards to meet yours, hands sliding down to grip your hips, you thought it was the hottest you'd ever seen him. "Fuck, Michael." You gasped out as his lips found your neck, head falling back.
He groaned at the sound of you moaning for him, he'd been waiting to touch you for so long. "Need you, pretty girl. We've got plenty of time for other things later, but I need to be inside you right now."
You didn't need to say another word, you simply nodded and helped him to unbuckle his belt while you hiked your dress up above your waist. His fingers grazed over your lingerie, and you mewled, the feeling almost too much. "Jesus, baby, you're so wet already. Haven't even done anything yet."
"Missed you so much, Michael." You breathed out, an answer to his statement, and simply a statement in itself.
"Missed you too, princess." You loved when he called you pet names.
You watched as he freed himself from his underwear, and his cock sprung up, hard and ready for you. "You're hard already." You mocked his words, and he laughed.
Neither of you wasted any time with foreplay, your panties were ripped off and on the floor with one flick of Michael's wrist, and he was lifting you off of him slightly, and guiding you back down onto his cock.
The feeling of him sliding into you again was euphoric for both of you. You hadn't had sex in more than a month, as opposed to usually being borderline sex addicts, and you knew you wouldn't last long.
You both let out pornographic moans as he bottomed out, Michael's face said it all. His mouth hung open, eyebrows knitted together, eyes wide, you were so tight, he could've came at the feeling of his cock stretching you out.
"Fuck, not gonna last long, honey." His forehead fell against yours and he screwed his eyes shut, just revelling in how good you felt around him. "Are you alright?" He asked, hand holding and stroking your waist lovingly. He was big, and you were so used to him before that you hardly needed any time to adjust, but with being away from eachother for so long, he was almost too much to handle.
"I'm okay. Give me a second. Feel so full." You were breathing heavily, shifting around. It wasn't uncomfortable as such, just a lot to take.
Michael ran his fingers through your hair, soothing you and pressing kisses to your forehead. "Taking me so well, baby. Just take your time."
"Fuck," You moaned, you loved when he was sweet to you in bed. You'd told him months ago that you thought it might've been your biggest turn on. "You can move."
Michael looked up at you, just for an extra check that you were truly alright, and, upon finding no sign that you weren't, bucked his hips up to meet yours. You almost screamed, he knew exactly what spots to hit, and he did every time without fail.
You bounced on him, his hands helping you, lifting you off of him and bringing you straight back down at new angles every time. "You feel so good, Mike."
"Fuck, good girl. That's a good girl." Michael let his forehead drop onto your collarbone, watching your tits bounce up and down. You were so beautiful, he often wondered how he'd gotten so lucky. "Tell me how good I'm making you feel."
"So, so good. Missed your cock so much. Love it so much." Your words were slightly slurred, eyes starting to droop. He loved watching you, how much of a mess you'd get, just from riding his cock.
His hands found your tits, massaging them and twisting your nipples, which always had you screaming for him, and today was no different. "Feel good?"
"Feels fucking amazing." He thrust into you at just the right angle, which had you gasping and digging your nails into his back, leaving little red half moons on his shoulder blades. "Oh, right there, Mike.”
"Shit, baby, are you close?" You were clenching around him so tightly, "Can feel it, you're close."
"I'm so close." You moaned, you were certain your upstairs neighbours would hear you, the walls and ceilings were thin, and Michael was making you yell out in pleasure.
"Me too. Almost there, sweetheart. Hang on for me." He increased his speed, making it even harder for you to hold on, and making your moans fall from your lips even louder than before.
"I don't think I can, Mike." Your legs were shaking like crazy, and you could feel his dick tensing inside of you. You needed to come so badly.
"I said hold on. You can hold it." His face was stern as he said it, dominant side coming out as he grabbed your hips and slammed you down onto him, bucking his hips at the same time. He was going to make this so good for you.
"Fuck, Michael, please." You threw your head back. You felt his cock twitch, and a loud moan come from him, he was going to come.
"Alright, baby, come. Come with me."
Your throat was hoarse from moaning as loudly as you were, but it didn't stop you from screaming his name as your walls tightened around him and you came undone. The feeling of his cum painting your insides never got old, always made you feel like you could go at least another few rounds.
"Oh my God." You panted, collapsing onto his chest as he lay back on the bed. You both lay there, breathing heavily, sweaty messes, for a few minutes. You didn't think you could move very far, your legs were shaking against him.
"Jesus, have I missed this." Michael kissed the top of your head through quick, harsh breaths.
"I've missed this so much." You agreed, heart pounding.
You lifted your head, just enough to see that there were a few speckles of blood seeping through the bandage that was wrapped around his torso. "You're bleeding, baby. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." He nodded, and reached over to your bedside cabinet to grab the small alarm clock that sat there. It read two o’clock. Michael grinned at you.
"Time to change the bandages."
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weird-is-life · 8 months
Note
I dont know if you’re still taking requests so feel free to ignore this lol :)
Spencer x reader angstttt all the way! Reader doesn’t work at the Bau and works as a model, however JJ confesses to Spencer right in front of reader bc she doesn’t know reader is his gf‼️ the rest is up to you sorry if it’s confusing
Hii, lovely ty for this request. I hope u don't mind I changed it a bit. Warnings: angsty, happy ending, pet names, use of y/n (1.5k)
You don't mean to overhear Spencer's conversation with JJ. It just happens. You've been seeing Spence for a lot more then a few weeks now and he still hasn't introduced you to his friends from work.
So with him forgetting his bag at your apartment, you decided that you could bring it to him to work. And maybe get introduced to his close friends, as well.
But seeing and hearing what you are right now. You are beggining to understand why he didn't rush to have you introduced.
Spencer is standing with his back to you talking to a pretty blonde ( which you know is definitely JJ). You are close enough to them to hear what they are talking about. You almost interrupt their talk, but then you hear JJ's words. She is full of kind words, pet names and sweet smiles. And to your horrible surprise, you realise, she is confessing her feelings to Spencer. But before, you can hear her say the 'L' word, you storm out of there, almost knocking over one agent on your way out.
JJ sees your accidental stumble and makes a weird face, which catches Spencer's attention.
"What is it?" he questions.
"Oh nothing, just some girl almost running Rossi over. Was my speech good? Do you think, that Will will like it?" JJ asks, but before Spencer can reply, Penelope comes running in.
"Guys guys guys, did you see what I just saw now?" she asks, excitement visible on here.
"What do you mean, Pen?"
"The super gorgeous girl, that almost just ran over Rossi, obviously, " she says in a 'duh' tone, "Since when has the Bau started hiring super models? I need to find out her name, I'd kill for the shoes she had-"
"Did-did you just say super model?" Spencer interrupts her, his eyes wide.
"Yes?" she asks uncertainly.
"Did she-" he describes your appearance, praying that it wasn't you and that you just didn't hear JJ's love confession.
"You know her? You must give me her-" Spencer is out of there, not even letting Penelope finish.
He runs out of the building like a mad man, hoping to catch you, he can't even to begin think about what you must be thinking now.
"Fuck!" he curses outside of the building, he knows you are long gone. He quickly returns to the office, eager to call you and to explain everything to you. He notices the bag, that he forgot at your place in the morning, sitting on his desk. It makes him feel even worse.
As he calls you, everybody - JJ, Rossi and Penelope - is looking at him worriedly. You, of course, don't pick up any of his calls, so Spencer tosses the phone on his desk and slumps down in his chair.
"Spencer, what's wrong?"
"I....-I fucked up," he sighs.
"What do you mean?" JJ asks.
"I mean y/n....she definitely heard your love speech," Spencer puts his head in his hands. His visible distress making JJ, Pen and Rossi even more confused and worried.
"Who's y/n?" Penelope is the first one to ask, "is that the model looking girl, that almost knocked Rossi on the ground?"
"She actually is a model," Spencer murmurs into his palms, he says it so quietly, but they all hear it.
"What?!" Pen almost yells, "how do you know that? You actually know her?"
Spencer lifts his head up, preparing mentally for what he is about to reveal. "I know it, because she-.....she's my girlfriend."
It's a complete silence after he says that. Everybody is staring at him like he has said the most unhinged thing ever.
"What are you still doing here then, kid? You gotta go to her," Rossi's the first one to speak up.
"B-but I can't just leave, what about Hotch-"
"We will take care of that, just go," Spencer doesn't need to be told twice, he is up on his feet, shrugging a coat on in a matter of seconds. He leaves the office with anxious thoughts and some encouraging words from his friends.
He sets off to your apartment, he knows you will be there, because you don't have any work right now. He gets to your apartment in record time and without hesitation, he lets himself in with a key you've given him.
He finds you in your bedroom, eyes red, face puffy and wet from crying, on a phone call with your best friend. It feels like a punch in the guts seeing you like that and it is even worse, when he knows it's because of him.
"Y/N?" he calls out your name uncertainly. You look up at him, eyes wide.
"Spencer, w-what are you doing here?" you ask, stiff as a board.
"I know you came to the office and i-"
"Please, just leave Spencer, i-i don't want to see you right now," you interrupt him, your voice hoarse from all the crying.
"Please, sweetheart. Let me explain-" Spencer begs, he knows if he leaves you right now there's no going back.
"Just go home, Spencer." You whisper, your voice breaking. You don't have the strength or a heart to shout at him to leave.
"No, I can't leave without an explanation," he stubbornly says," just give me 5 minutes, that's all I need, please."
You are very angry and upset with him, and you really really don't want him near you at the moment. You just want to curl up on your bed and cry, but you know Spencer, he has the kindest heart in the world. You know, that he wouldn't do anything to hurt you, especially not with cheating and you are most certain about it by just looking at his anxious face.
So you decide to hear him out, "o-okay, five minutes, that's all you get." You, despite your best friend's protests, hang up and listen to Spencer carefully. Tears still running down your cheeks and oh how does Spencer wish that he could wipe them away.
He explains how JJ's asked him for his opinion on her love speech for her and Will's wedding anniversary. She was worried it wasn't good enough, because she wanted Will to know how much she loves him even if they aren't together as often as they should be. So of course, Spencer agreed.
"-That's all it was. Nothing more, I swear. Even if JJ had those kind of feeling for me, i wouldn't care. Because there is only one person for me and that's you, nobody else," Spencer blurts it all out quickly, praying that you believe him. He doesn't think he can take it if you don't and decide you don't want to see him ever again.
Suddenly, you put your hands over your face, sniffling quietly, "I'm sorry."
Spencer is quick to cut the distance between the two of you. He sits next to you on the bed, his hands hovering uncertainly over you. He isn't sure, if you want his touch now.
"Sorry? For what, sweetheart?"
"For thinking that... -that you were cheating," you sadly mumble into your hands and Spencer feels like crying himself, too.
He softly pulls at your hands, until you reveal your tearstained face. He gently wipes away the wetness from your cheeks with the ends of his sleeves.
"No, I should be the sorry one. And I am. I shouldn't have let JJ tell me that o-or I should have at least mentioned to you, that she has a husband. I'm sorry, baby, I am such an idiot," he apologises, face twisted into a big sad frown.
"Yeah," you chuckle with a sniffle, he definitely is an idiot, even though he is painfully smart, "can-can I have a hug?" You question unhappily .
"Of course, sweetheart."
Spencer hugs you like his life depends on it and you don't mind one bit. It's a huge relief for both of you to be able to hold each other. Thankful, that it was just a big misunderstanding.
You hug for a long time, until your leg under you goes numb and Spencer needs to use the toilet. He looks at you, before going to pee and suddenly you feel bashful, "I know, I look awful."
Your face and eyes are red and puffy, hair a total mess, but in Spencer's eyes you are the most beautiful person in the whole world (because you are).
"Nope, you are beatiful as ever," he compliments you. He is looking overwhelmingly loving at you, that you think you might burst at the spot from.
"I love you, only you," he whispers as he leans in to give you a forehead kiss.
"I love you, too, Spence," you say and he only mouths 'I love you more' back at you as he runs to the bathroom.
Later that day, when you are all curled up at Spencer's side, he tells you all about his team, barely sparing any detail and promises to introduce you to them as soon as possible.
And it does happen. A week passes by and you find yourself being introduced to all his friends at one of the famous dinners at Rossi's.
They immediately love you. The girls pull you away from Spencer as soon as you step a foot inside the house to ask everything about you, as they fuss about how pretty you are.
Spencer watches you make friends with his Bau family with the biggest smile ever and you find yourself smiling through the whole evening, too.
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notsosweetchan · 2 months
Note
Part 2 for show time???? Please? I don't usually like the camboy trope, but something about that Chan one was so 😩
That private show sounds tempting lmao 👀
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ʚ♡ɞ Show time part 2 ˚ʚ♡ɞ
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Notes: Check out part 1
Warning: Camboy AU Smut
Paring: | Chan x Reader |
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Chan's eyes widened as he read the private message. He didn't usually do private shows for just anyone. But there was something about @shyY/N that intrigued him.
He glanced at her profile and saw that she had been a loyal follower for quite some time now. His index finger hovered above the keyboard for a moment, before he typed out a response.
"Hey there @shyY/N, I don't usually do this but... for you, I'll make an exception. Name your price and time?" he sent the message, his heart racing in anticipation. He'd always wanted to connect with someone on a more personal level than just through a screen.
Y/N couldn't believe her eyes when she saw Chan's message. She could have sworn her heart was going to leap out of her chest. She quickly responded, "I-I umm.. I don't know how much to offer or when I'm available whenever you are."
She bit her bottom lip nervously as she waited for his response. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and she didn't want to mess it up. “How about three days from now and we can discuss the price then, just you and me, no one else” he winked at the camera before signing off.
Y/N couldn't believe her luck. A private show with her favorite cam model, it was like a dream come true. The next three days couldn't come fast enough, she thought about their private show every waking moment. That day finally arrived, Y/N couldn't sit still, her stomach in knots of anticipation.
She logged into the website and waited for Chan to go live.Chan was nervous but excited as he prepared for his private show with @shyY/N.
He'd never done something like this before but there was something about her that made him want to take a chance. He lit some candles and dimmed the room lights, trying to set the mood. When the time came, he went online and waited for her to join.
Y/N logged on and waited with bated breath. Chan's face popped up on her screen, his chocolate brown eyes twinkling with mischief. "Hey @shyY/N, it's so good to see you again," he purred, his voice sending shivers down her spine.
"H-hi Chan," she stuttered, suddenly feeling shy. He chuckled softly and told her to relax. They began to chat, talking about mundane things at first, trying to break the ice between them. Slowly but surely, Y/N started to feel more at ease.
As they continued their conversation, Chan leaned in closer to the camera, their faces inches apart. "So tell me, what do you want to see tonight?" he asked huskily, his eyes darkening with desire.
Y/N blushed bright red but found her words. "I-I'd like to see you touch yourself for me," she whispered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Chan smirked and obliged, his strong hands unbuttoning his shirt revealing his chiseled abs. Y/N's mouth watered at the sight, and she couldn't help but rub her thighs together to quell the building arousal between them.
Chan made eye contact with the camera as if he could see her, then unbuckled his pants, revealing his half-hard cock.
"Tonight is all about you," he purred, "Tell me what you want me to do."
Y/N took a deep breath, her confidence growing by the second. "I want you to touch yourself for me, show me what makes you feel good," she purred back, amazed at her own bravado.
Chan didn't hesitate, his calloused fingers stroking his shaft to full hardness. Y/N couldn't tear her eyes away from the screen as he brought his other hand up to tease his nipples lightly.
"Like this?" he teased, "Or do you want something else?" Y/N's mind was reeling with possibilities but she settled on one. "I want to see you use that toy again," she breathed, referring to the one he'd used during his public show.
Chan obliged, reaching under the bed for the very same toy. He dipped it in lube and slid it ever so slowly into himself, moaning for her benefit. The sight of him moaning in pleasure made Y/N so wet she could feel her juices trickling down her thighs. She unbuttoned her pants and slipped a finger inside herself, mimicking his actions on the screen before her.
"Are you enjoying the show so far?" Chan asked, picking up the pace.
Y/N could only manage a moan in response as she watched him pleasure himself. It was like they were in the same room together, his moans echoing through her speakers.
He pulled out the toy and put it to his lips, teasing the tip before whispering, "I wish it was your pussy."Y/N moaned louder now, her walls clenching in anticipation.
"I wish it was too." The words left her lips before she could stop them. There was an electric charge between them even through the screen. Chan must've felt it too because he slammed the toy back in deeper than before, groaning out her name. “Oh Y/N, fuck me Y/N, please fuck me.“
Y/N picked up the pace, her fingers flying over her clit as she watched him fuck himself.The room was now a cacophony of their moans and the sound of their virtual union. Y/N couldn't believe she was doing this but it felt so right.
Chan's eyes locked with hers through the camera as he sped up his thrusts,moaning her name like a prayer.” I want to make a mess for you Y/N, I want to fill you up with my cum.”
Y/N couldn't take anymore, her orgasm hit her like a freight train. arching her back, pleasure coursing through her veins like lightning. Chan moaned out her name one last time before shooting his load all over the camera.
They both lay there panting, trying to catch their breaths. Chan was the first to speak up "So what did you think of your private show?" he winked, his voice slightly hoarse from earlier exertions. Y/N couldn't find her voice, so she simply sent him a screenshot of her satisfied pussy, sticky with her arousal.
Chan's eyes widened in awe before he replied, "Damn, I hope I've lived up to your expectations." Y/N couldn't stop the blush creeping up her cheeks, "You more than surpassed them." Chan smirked, "I'm glad,maybe we could do this again sometime perhaps in person?"
Y/N bit her bottom lip, unsure of how to respond. "Maybe," she teased, signing off with a wink. Chan smiled to himself as he shut down his cameras for the night. Little did he know, it was the start of something more than either of them could have ever imagined.
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minispidey · 8 months
Text
01: Barbie and the Giftshopist.
Steven Grant x f!bimbo!reader. series masterlist. next part.
01. This Barbie is his new neighbor!
warnings: uses y/n once, get ready for kinda cringey bimbor!reader. over-use of the word like. extremely feminine reader. reference to elle woods. NOT BETA READ.
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"Yeah, but like, I totes believe her. I mean she's totes being framed. I wanna help her." as Steven got off of the lift, he sees multiple boxes out in the hallway and hears a woman's voice talking to someone.
You walk out of the flat in front of his to push in the rest of your things. You were wearing something someone moving in shouldn't be wearing: a pink lace top, flared pink pants and cute high heels. You had a purse and everything.
"I need an alibi from her. Like, she can't just like go to jail for something she didn't do. That's a crime itself." you held your phone in between your shoulder and ear "I'm totally bugging. Where's a good manipedi here?"
"Uh, I think there's a salon across from the baker around the corner?" Steven spoke up from behind you.
You turn to face him, blinking twice "I'll call you back. I'll see you at the office." you end your call and smiled at him "Thanks so much. My nails have suffered too much this past week. Oh, we're neighbors!"
"It seems like we are."
"I'm Y/N. It's so nice to meet you." you two shake hands "I'm like, really struggling with these boxes. And I know I'd be like super desperate, but I am, but can you help me, please?" you smiled brightly, even batting your long eyelashes.
"Oh, uh, yes, absolutely." he said, taking a couple of the boxes from the hallway.
You kept kicking some of the boxes in with your pink high heels, clearly impatient and trying to push them all in. Steven halts your actions by picking them up and setting them down inside.
"You gotta uh, carry the boxes inside. They get stuck when you just push them." entering your flat, he placed more boxes down. He could see your walls were already painted a different color: pink. Steven was surprised to see such a bold choice of color, but he could already tell by your outfit what kind of woman you were.
A woman with great fashion-sense.
You were beautiful. Something about you was just so alluring, so hypnotic. He couldn't even believe a beautiful woman like you was talking to him, let alone letting him enter your flat. But he did notice you were a bit of a ditz.
"Do you need any help with anything else?" Steven asked, turning around as he spoke. His ears were slightly red because of the way you looked at him.
"That's all. Thanks so much." you smiled "I just moved here, and like, still adjusting."
"It's not a problem at all. If you need anything, don't be shy. I'm just in front."
"That's so nice of you! Totes, I'd definitely need some help. Oh shoot, I never got your name."
"It's fine. I-It's Steven."
"It's so nice to meet you, Steven."
His eyes shifted to the racks filled with clothes. Pink, to be exact. You were extremely feminine. He spots furs and his brows furrow a bit "Er... uh..."
"They're faux fur. Can't tell the difference anymore." you giggled, wheeling them to a corner with the rest of your clothes.
"Oh. Well, they're very nice." Steven smiled "Are you a model?"
"Gosh, that's such a compliment. No one's ever said that before. But no, just love clothes. How about you? Wait wait! Let me guess..."
Steven found it adorable as you squint your eyes, thinking of what his job is.
"Are you like... a sculptor? No, a painter! Am I close?"
"I work at a gift-shop, actually. A giftshopist." he smiled.
"No way. You have really pretty hands, you could be like a hand model. Or like I said, a painter."
Steven blushed like a mad man "Thank you. No one's ever complimented my hands."
"You're pretty handsome, you know? It's like... gosh you have a nice nose too." the way you complimented him was as if he was a sculpture.
Steven's heart almost stopped when you casually mentioned how handsome he was. You were incredibly blunt about it for someone he had just met.
"Thank you." he said, his cheeks turning a shade of pink. Something about you saying it that make his body feel all warm. It's such a strange and unusual feeling for him.
"No, but like seriously. You are so handsome. It's like driving me a bit cray, you get it, right? Gosh, I sound like a total creep."
Hearing the same thing two times in a row sent him into quite a little flutter. He had never been one to be flirted with and the combination of how direct you were, plus how much you were repeating yourself certainly made him feel something.
"No, it's fine. No, you don't sound like creep, it's totally fine." he looks back up at you "I'm just... I'm not used to... it."
"Used to what? Being called handsome?"
"Yeah." Steven chuckled, the sound escaping his mouth in such a high pitched and nervous way that it sounded almost like a squeak "And uh, being flirted with..."
Your phone suddenly rings, making you two jump up. You take your phone out, looking at the caller ID "So sorry. I gotta take this."
"Oh, no worries." he clears his throat, taking the opportunity to collect his thoughts and calm his racing heart and mind.
"I, uh, I should go now." he says "I'll see you around, luv."
"I'll see you around, Steven." you gave him a smile before answering your phone, pacing back and fourth across your flat.
As Steven enters his flat, his heart calms down but his cheeks were still red. His eyes shifted towards a mirror, a clearly judging Marc staring right back at him.
"So. You like her?"
"Oh come on, Marc. I just met her."
That evening, Steven heard a knock outside his door. His ears were perked up as he approached the door, opening it to find you in your cute animal print night dress and holding a casserole dish "Okay, so like, I got called in to the office earlier and I never got to properly thank you."
"It's not big deal, luv." he blushed "They're just boxes."
"And really heavy ones. You are like, super strong. Plus I finally got my manipedi." you giggled "I made lasagna in the office but I got leftovers, do you wanna split?"
"Uh... actually I'm vegan."
"Oh gosh, I'm like so sorry. That explains the fur thing!"
"Yeah." he nods "It's alright, luv. I don't wear a big ol sign saying I'm vegan."
"Well... I was just hoping we could hangout because you seem like a really nice guy. I mostly bond with food."
"It's alright, uh..." Steven looks behind him, looking if his place was presentable "If you want, you can eat it here while we chat? Maybe a cup of tea? I've stepped inside your flat, might as well welcome you into mine."
"Really? That's so nice of you! I swear, when I get my stove and oven I'll make you something vegan."
"You really don't have to. I assure you, it's alright."
"Don't worry! I can cook."
Ever since that day, Steven is ecstatic to wake up everyday and greet you in the morning as you both went off to work.
Your clothes were always consistent with the pinks and whites, but you always looked professional as you head off to work.
Steven began to guess what your profession was. You said you weren't a model, perhaps a designer? A professor?
He snapped out of his thoughts when you placed a plate of fried tofu with some sauce over it and spring onions.
"Stevie, do you know where I could like, donate books? Mine are sooo expensive but someone might want to use them." you asked as you cleaned up your countertop.
"Yeah, why?"
"Okay so like, Jean, he's like a newbie, he totally bugged me. Brags that he loves to donate his stuff. He once donated a canoe. He says like he was a hoarder back then. I thought to myself, am I hoarding?" you spin, facing Steven "I totally am! I have books I won't need anymore and I don't have bookshelves anyways."
"I have spots in my bookcase. Maybe I could take them off your hands?" Steven looks up at you with a smile "I don't mind. They have sentimental value?"
"Very. Plus, they were soooo expensive I swear. I could've bought like fifteen more pairs of heels if I hadn't bought them. Or maybe just a pair of Choos."
"What kind of books are they exactly?"
"Law."
"Law?"
"Law." you clear your throat, lifting your arm and bending your wrist in a dramatic way "I'm a lawyer, obvi."
Steven was slightly taken aback by the news. He certainly wouldn't have guessed that right "You're a-a lawyer? Oh, wow, that's super impressive. Wait, how are you dressed the way you are if you're a lawyer? Don't they make you wear suits and stuff?"
"Duhh, I wear pink ones! You see me wear them to work every morning." you smiled "I have a lot."
Steven's truly never met a woman like you.
"You're incredible..."
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mothellie · 25 days
Text
I think the Duffer Brothers' history with racism in their show goes a lot deeper than a lot of people realize.
Lucas as a character has three distinct B plot stories that get assigned to him: being a minor antagonist to Eleven in season one, being a good friend to the rest of the Party, and being in love with his girlfriend. While Mike's plot is directly centered around two of the most pivotal characters of the show, Dustin is given two different role model characters that shape his arc and is overall the genius that helps the rest of the cast get out of several difficult situations, Will still being connected to the Upside Down after his disappearance in 1983 and that playing into several major plots, Max having a multitude of centric storylines especially in season four and Eleven literally being THE main character- Lucas is only ever given plots that help serve and uplift the other (white) characters. Unless you count him... playing basketball and being friends with Jason. I guess?
Erica is similar to Lucas, but to a much larger degree. I'd like you reading this to think of any single Erica standalone plot in the show that has nothing to do with/does not predominantly or solely benefit the white characters around her. I'll wait.
The Sinclair parents are only touched on in brief sections for the sake of filling the episodes, only ever playing a more major role in Season Four. If you could call it that. I'm sure most of you couldn't even tell me their names off of the top of your heads. (It's Charles and Sue, by the way.)
Argyle was the first somewhat major character of color to be introduced to the show after Erica played her part in season three. I could say similar things about his role in the season overall that I can about Lucas and Erica. Except they set him up to play a bigger role in the next season at the end of season four, going as far as to show him in Hawkins and have Jancy verbally allude to him sticking around, only for the show heads to ghost Eduardo Franco and let him find out he wasn't being brought back through an official social media cast photo.
Kali was a former subject from the same lab El came from, having escaped and subsequently began to lead a vigilante life of enacting revenge on those who played a hand in her suffering. She was the first subject El ever met after leaving the lab, shown to be incredibly powerful and strong-willed. Her and El had an immediate connection, calling themselves sisters right after meeting. But after El was finished with her self-discovery period on the S.S. Kali Gang for one (1) often-forgotten and poorly-written episode, Kali was quite literally abandoned both in spirit and on screen, never to be seen or even mentioned again.
All other characters of color are either killed violently (Patrick), have like ten minutes of screentime total (Jeff and Calvin Powell), or are just straight up background only and may not even have names.
They can dedicate an entire section of season four's plot to Suzie's family, but not to genuine character development for Erica or for Kali to return. They can make room for a whole pointless predatory plot between Billy and Karen, but not to give a more important role to the Sinclair parents. They have room to include a whole plot about El getting bullied in school, but not for Lucas to have a more meaningful story outside of his white friends and girlfriend. They can platform three known white zionists while Palestine currently undergoes a gruesome genocide even as I type this, but they don't have room for Argyle in season five (or even the decency to give Eduardo a fucking phone call).
Not only do the Duffers constantly write themselves into holes because they keep adding unnecessary fodder to the plot, and refuse to kill ANY of their main characters in favor of just creating new characters for the sake of killing them off in mediocre ways despite the fact that they're trying to fit 20+ B plots into 8-9 40-50 minute episodes per season and wondering why half their show doesn't make sense- The time they DO dedicate to character-specific B plots and character arc progression visibly favor the white characters.
If I watch S5, and that's a huge if, I will be sailing the high seas. Between all of this, the fact that they filmed part of season four in an old Nazi prison and tried to turn it into a fucking AirBNB, and the fact that at least four people who play major roles in the show actively support the current genocide of Palestine- I won't be giving them (or Netflix for that matter) another cent of my money.
While you're here, please do your completely free daily click to send aid to Palestine, and here's a list of other resources for how to help more directly.
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satoruwiki · 2 months
Note
Are you over stripper gojo?
i am… NOT 👹
☆▒ DOUBLE LIFE!➜ ★
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minors, ageless and blank blogs dni.
cw: afab!f!reader; suggestive content; not proof read.
w.c: 2.3k
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Satoru always had a cover response.
"So, what do you do for a living?" The blonde girl asked, sipping her cocktail— a little too bitter for her taste.
"I'm a teacher, a private teacher, to be exact," he replied, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.
The possible reaction would be bemusement, laughter, thinking he was joking, followed by something along the lines of "didn't think you would be a teacher; you seem more like you work as a model or somewhere in the fashion industry," Satoru had it all memorized.
The most skeptical would narrow their eyes and stare at him like he just said the earth is flat confidently. Satoru would then pull out a white business card, with his name, phone address and 'job' written in Times New Roman font, all uppercase in platinum colour - because Satoru was cunning enough to order himself business cards for these occasions - and hand it to them.
People after that would not question him further; what is there to be asked? The teaching profession is not the most exciting of all— maybe ask him what he teaches, but beyond that, there is nothing; it's the perfect job to cover up his... nocturnal activities.
His cover-up was perfect, steady, almost unbreakable, almost.
Until you came into the picture.
"Now, I think I can kind of see you as a teacher, though I'm surprised no talent scout or casting director has ever contacted you to be part of a fashion magazine or commercial," you said, scanning him head to toe. The man before you was a total adonis, tall, handsome, charismatic, charming blue eyes with a smile that could melt any girl's heart; it was hard for you to believe he hadn't ever been the face of a brand or a high fashion's magazine cover, perhaps he worked as a high-end host as a side gig?
"Oh, believe me, I have," Satoru answered, taking a swig of the colourful cocktail, his face contorting into a slight grimace afterwards, "It's just not really my thing, y'know. I don't know if I'm ready to be People's hottest man alive."
"How humble," you snort, taking a swig of your drink yourself. Satoru chuckles in return; the sudden buzz of his phone interrupts your conversation, and he gives you a shy smile. He gestures with his right hand for you to hold on a second, to which you nod; holding his phone with his left, he gets up from his seat and walks away to take the mysterious call. 
After a few minutes, he comes back with a sorry look on his face. You get the vibe that something happened, and the date's probably over. "Sorry, as much as I'd like to stay longer, I can't," he says, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair, "y'know, private teacher things, one of my students needs me for an upcoming competition, gotta teach him to master twinkle twinkle little star on the violin."
Now, you don't like to overthink; however, the thought that the phone call could've been a fake emergency call lingered in your mind after he left, even though he did apologize again through text and supposedly 'hoped' you guys could reschedule for another date, you still thought his sudden departure was weird.
"Oh, that sounds like he didn't like you and faked a rain check," Utahime said through the phone.
"You think so?" you replied uncertainly, sounding somewhat sad and disappointed, the corners of your lips forming a pout. "Fuck, this is why I don't go out with guys who know they're cute. They have it over their head and think they're the big deal."
"Well, I told you he looked like a prick when you first showed me his profile."
"All men look like idiots to you, Uta'," you rolled your eyes, putting the call on speaker as you opened your freezer, "That's why you're single."
You heard Utahime gasp through the phone, seemingly offended by your teasing, which made you chuckle a little. "I'm single because I chose to, in case you forgot- What's that sound?"
"Oh, nothing, I'm just going to drown my sorrows in ice cream," you replied casually, closing the freezer door and opening your ice cream, "and watch some mediocre rom-com to distract me from how mediocre my love life is."
"Girl, no. Put that back and start picking an outfit; we're going out."
"Uta, thanks for the invite, but I'm tired. I just had a disappointing date, I don't really feel like going-"
Utahime interrupted you abruptly. "No buts. We are going out. I heard there's a new club that does ladies' nights on Fridays, and it just happens to be Friday. Forget about that damn date, you'll have others coming. Let's go out, yeah?"
You thought about her proposal and, well, she was right, the failed date wasn't that big of a deal, not so much as to spend your night sulking on your sofa eating ice cream. You sighed, putting the ice cream back in its place, "Fine, at what time do we meet?"
"I heard the guys here are hot, so much so that some girl's blood pressure went up because of how sexy their dances were, or so I was told," Utahime said in your ear, her voice barely audible over the blasting music.
"You told me we were going to a club," you chided, averting your gaze from the scantily clad men. Geez, were they covered in... oil?
"Club, male strip club, what's the difference? You go to both at night, and there are men in skimpy clothing," Shoko joins and shrugs nonchalantly, not seeing the reason for your apparent embarrassment, "Come on, don't be such a prude, pick yourself a cute guy for a private routine. It's on me if that eases you up," she nudges you, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
You sighed heavily; Utahime wasn't wrong. Some of the guys were kind of... hot, you suppose. But how were you supposed to ask for a private dance? Should you just come up to them and ask them? You've never been to a male strip club, and you don't know the 'unspoken rules' when interacting with a stripper yet.
Your anxious thoughts were interrupted when the crowd surrounding the main stage got suddenly louder, a pair of lights pointing toward it. You couldn't understand what the DJ was saying; the mic was so close to his mouth that it sounded like he was eating it, making his words unintelligible. Or maybe you had a bad hearing. Because the crowd, including your friends, started to cheer, wooing and lifting their shots in the air.
A song started to play throughout the club; you guessed that whoever was about to do his routine was the 'star' of the club because of how lively the crowd of girls was. The lights coordinated with the beat of the music, creating a surprise appearance of the long-awaited dancer on stage with his back turned. 
Your heart stopped, jaw-slacked and speechless, as he turned around, unbuttoning the top of the fireman's outfit he was wearing one by one. Holy shit, that was—
"Uta'! It's him!" You nudged your friend frantically.
At first, she frowned in confusion, but it was only in a matter of seconds that it dawned on her. Having the same reaction as you, Utahime gasped and nudged you back, "Oh my god, you're right! It's the idiot from the date! Hell, I knew that 'teacher' thing was too weird for someone like him," she folded her arms, "and he sure does like the attention."
You looked back to the stage; the white-haired man had now fully unbuttoned his top, flashing his incredible, glistening abs on full display - you kept doubting whether it was oil or sweat that made them glint under the lights - and swaying his body seductively to the sound of the music. 
Even if you tried, you couldn't exactly hate him for faking an emergency call or lying about his real job. Not when he looked this fucking hot doing it.
Satoru (if you remembered his name correctly) took off the jacket, tugging it down excruciatingly slow, showing off his ripped biceps and tossed it aside. Your eyes were captivated by the sensuality of his movements, his muscles tensing and rippling, making you swallow hard at the eroticism that carried his routine. And hell, with that frown and that sly grin, he looked so fucking hot as he danced to the beat of the music.
The more you watched it, the more doubts came to mind. Satoru could be famous; he had the charisma and appeal to be, so what brought him to this? Was it out of necessity, or did he enjoy it? Questions that would never be answered because you would never see him again after this.
Or so you thought before you were given a push (literally), coincidentally while Satoru was looking for a volunteer to pull up on stage. 
Call it bad luck, but Satoru took your hand from all those who begged to be chosen, helping you onto the stage. Satoru couldn't recognize you under the dim lights of the club until he was face to face with you. He felt his heart work twice as hard, his eyes wide as saucers for just a second, masking his panic with a toothy grin.
In full view of everyone, Satoru sat you on a chair as part of his routine and stood behind you, the pad of his fingers skimming over the skin of your arms, trailing down to your wrists, his fingers wrapped around them and lifted them into the air.
"So you're not a teacher?" you murmured, feeling your heartbeat in your throat at the proximity of his lips against your neck.
"You got me, I'm not; sorry for lying to you," he whispered back, a small laugh coming from him as he took your hands to run up and down his beefy torso, feeling his every muscle rippling under your fingers.
A gasp escaped your lips as gasps of astonishment from the audience. God, it was a miracle you hadn't fainted by now. You swallowed dryly, falling prey to his erotic dance and his very presence, his hands guiding yours to rest on his hard-worked thighs and then roaming up your neck, the heat of his skin making contact with yours as Satoru pressed himself against you. You knew this was part of his dance routine, yet it felt so intimate, too much sexual tension and lascive, like a moment that shouldn't be shown to the public and kept taboo.
"Want me to tell you a secret?" he breathed, his laboured breaths blending with yours.
"Another one?"
"I was thinking of doing this to you on our second date," he confessed, a seductive smile to your eyes peeking out from the corner of his lips, "but it seems fate wanted to bring it forward."
"Do you believe in fate?"
"Nah, but doesn't it sound nice?" he huffed, tilting his head playfully, his white locks tickling your cheek, his hips sensuously grinding across your lap.
Satoru could sense your uncertainty in touching him and how much you wanted to do so. You moistened your parted lips and startled at every brush of his bare skin against yours, your hands tensed and trembling, refusing to explore any more of his anatomy. "Touch me," he instructed.
"What?"
Satoru pulled away from you, taking your hands into his, helping you to stand up and wrap your arms around his neck. With a firm grip on your thighs, you encircled your legs around his waist. "They want a show, and I know you're dying than just laying your soft hands on my body. Let me feel you all over me."
You felt your face burning, his innuendo going straight to your core. His words did things to you, like your skin prickling and leaving your mind blank. Bashfully, you complied; your shy hand travelled from his neck down to his abdomen, exploring every inch of his pale flesh as he carefully laid you down on the floor. He pried open your legs, easing his way between them, which made you wonder if this was still part of the routine or if you were about to get arrested for public indecency and be registered as a sex offender.
You finally understood why he was so popular at the nightclub; a routine by Satoru was like having clothed sex, the way his head dipped between your legs, alluding to him eating you out while moving every part of his lower body to the rhythm of the music or the way he acted out rhythmic sexual positions with you, made his touch feel igneous under your skin and sent a throbbing in your nether regions.
Fortunately (or unfortunately for you), the routine came to an end; beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as he caught his breath and -painfully- said goodbye to you in front of the crowd, mentally grateful for the dim lighting of the place that hid his tented pants after his very sexual dance routine.
As soon as you stepped off the stage, your friends were all over you, bombarding you with questions, jokes and the occasional sly comment.
"So, are you going to meet him again?" Shoko asked you with a teasing -and very nosy intentioned- glint in her eyes.
"I... I don't know," you stuttered bashfully, still recovering from your heart rattling in your ribcage. As your friends kept teasing you to no end, you felt a vibration of your phone, forcing you to take it out of your pocket. Your breath hitched, and that sensation in your lower back became present again as you read the contact name.
"Next date at my place? ;)" —Satoru.
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