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kausstar · 6 months

Note

dave smut plsplspllslslsdss i’ll luv u forever

— forever?? 😌

‧ 𝜗ϱ WAIT WAIT REALLY ? , dave lizewski . . .（ smut ）

big dick! dave who doesn’t know what to do with it.

drabble tags nsfw content. female reader. black reader in mind but anyone can read. he’s whiny n’ slutty. unprotected. creampiiiieee. kissing. swearing.

dave believed he was average. i mean for what he’d seen on his almost daily porn scrolls, he was. he had never actually measured it like all the other boys his age as they were just curious. he never cared to, knowing a girl wouldn’t see it, ask about it or even think of seeing it. he always thought he would stay a little, invisible virgin all his life. but fortunately for him, that changed when he got a girlfriend— a pretty one too.

one with the nicest smile, lips, hair, ass and you treated him amazingly. you almost treated him too well. so much that he didn’t believe you actually liked him until you promised to prove to him after school at his house. you’d been over plenty of times before to study, listen to him ramble, have small make out sessions, watch movies, talk— he believed it was no different than any other time but he secretly hoped it would be more. he hoped every time you came over and he was almost always sadly disappointed.

but with every god on his side that afternoon, his little assumption was right. he watched you in fascination as you wrapped your hands around his cock. your eyes not even giving him a glance as you watch his cock leak pre-cum from his tip. the size of him not going unnoticed by you because of your struggle to wrap one hand around it. “didn’t know you were this big,” you mumble out with a chuckle off your tongue. “w-wait wait really?” he’d stumbled, eyebrows slightly pinched in worry that you wouldn’t like that.

i mean he’d heard woman whining and even crying about how big men are in most of the videos he’d watched. tears would run down their face as he fucked into them. hearing them whine about how they couldn’t take it but they didn’t tell him to stop oddly. maybe they liked the slightly pain he endured upon them, would you like that-his cock stretching you in euphoric pain? his head was so far up into the clouds he almost came when you wrapped your lips are his tip.

his head tasting of his salty pre-cum. you liked his salty taste— so much, that you bobbled your head onto his cock until he was squirting, whining and forgetting all about his question for you as he only thinks about wanting to cum into your warm mouth. his hand rested on your head, guiding you with only slight pressure. with the sweetest intentions, you ignore his guidance and you pull your mouth from around him. “f-fuck just a little- ah longer, baby.” his begging beginning quickly after you had stopped.

you find his lips and kiss him sweetly trying to shush him. “i’m gonna let you cum,” you mumble lightly against his lips. “i just want you to cum with me, don’t you wanna do that? cum with me.” you only hoped he’d say yes, cunt soaking through the panties you were wearing. that hadn’t been his exact thought when he said yes, it being: you riding his cock, feeling your warm cunt wrapped around him as he looks up at you in pure adoration.

“shit! shit! i- uh thought! oh my god!”

he hadn’t expected it to be this overwhelming—with your cunt squeezing, milking cock as the two of you kiss each other to keep the moans down. his hands touching your warm, soft skin around your hips, waist and ass—places he had only imagined touching. smelling how sweet you are when you lean down to kiss him on his already spit-covered lips. hearing you mumbling against them how good his cock feels in you and his cock is hitting all the right places, the sound of your wet cunt making your statement more and more believable. unfortunately, he hadn’t got to look at you much as he would shut his eyes and whine to stop from cumming too quickly.

when he did get the chance to look at you, which was rare, he would take you in like he hadn’t ever looked at you before. eyes going cloudy at the looks of you—especially when you mumble out you’re about cum. you’re cunt pulse around him as you burying your head into the crook of his neck, hips continuing to roll. he’s quick to cum along with you slurring and whining your name as he does.

 2023 kausstar.

#⠀ ݁ ੭୧ ᳝ ࣪ ᭡ .ᐟ ⠀#𓂃⊹ kick-ass.#dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski smut #dave lizewski #kick ass #kick ass x reader #aaron johnson smut #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader

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xreaderanonaccount · 5 months

Text

A Caring Maid(Arlecchino x AFAB!Reader)

Tags: Slightly Suggestive

Arlecchino was on stritch bed rest by not only you but by Pierro himself. She may or may not over extend herself causing herself to lose focus and get severely injured. That day is not a day she would like to remember as when you received the news you balled your eyes out, believing that she was dying. Even the children were crying thinking that she was dying. But she was in fact not dying.

In her giant shared bedroom it was filled with drawings and cards from children of the house of hearth, or the soldiers who once were part of the house of hearth. Alrecchino found all of this silly, she was perfectly fine and she could move around. But how can she say no when you look so beautiful when you're mad. Your perfect face, and the little pouty face you make when she doesn’t listen to you. Ah how can anyone protest your orders? A soft raps on the door snapped Arlecchino out of her thoughts.

“Come in.” She watched as you walked into the room with a… maid dress? Arlecchino's brain malfunction for a bit as you walked towards her with a beaming smile.

“What… are you wearing Mon chéri?” Arlecchino asked, slowly getting up but was gently pushed back down by you.

“You like it? I asked one of the housekeepers about getting one.” You smiled, twirling a bit, allowing the frills to dance around. Arlecchino just smiled watching your little performance.

“I like it, I think you should wear it more.” Arlecchino smirked as she traced her hand up your exposed legs. You blush at her implications before gently smacking her hand away.

“For another time, not until you’re fully healed up.” You smiled dipping into the bed, placing down a plate of food.

“You do know I’m not dying right?” Arlecchino smirked, propping herself with one arm, playing with your frills a bit.

“Am I not allowed to still care for you?” You questioned, scooping up a bit of the food before placing it right in front of her mouth.

“Now say Ah!” You smiled, Arlecchino rolled her eyes before accepting the spoon in her mouth, enjoying the delicous food that you provided for her.

“Do you like it? I had Freminet help me with it!” You beamed as you continue your rambles about the children of the hearth. How good they are behaving and how Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet is helping out around the orphanage. But Arlecchino couldn’t care, for now, all her attention was on you. Maybe she should get injured more often. If it means she gets to see you like this.

A/N: divider credits: cafekitsune, Prompt credits: Creativewritingprompts on tumblr

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #arlecchino x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers

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neon-junkie · 15 days

Text

Troubleshooting

Summary: After the events of Tantiss, Crosshair finds himself with a cybernetic hand, and he knows a way to test all of its capabilities.

Word count: 2k

Pairing: Crosshair x f!Reader

Tags: Established relationship, Fingering, Dirty talk, Cybernetics.

“There,” Tech hums as he shuts the panel over Crosshair’s wrist, securing the instalment. “Give it a try,” he urges, and sits back to watch Crosshair test his new hand.

After the fall of Tantiss, it took Crosshair quite some time to realise what had actually happened. He lost his hand - his shooting hand, at that. Sure, he’s great with his left, but two hands are always better than one, especially if you’re missing your dominant hand.

Given that Echo opted not to have a robot hand installed, it left a spare on the Marauder - an item that everybody had forgotten about, lost in storage, only for it to finally come into use during an unfortunate turn of events.

Of course, you love Crosshair regardless. Hand or not, he’s still your man, and you’ll do everything in your power to support him. That’s why, during pillow talk a week after the event, Crosshair brought up the idea of getting on installed.

“I feel… incomplete,” he explained. He rambled on about his lack of uses, now that he’s missing a hand, and you had to remind him that he is no longer a soldier, and that he can find his new path in life. “Well, it’s difficult to become a fisherman with only one hand,” Crosshair sarcastically responded, earning a laugh from you.

That brings you to today. Tech was more than happy to install it for Crosshair, babbling about how he’s “always excited to work on cybernetic enhancements,” which would explain why Tech is always questioning if Echo needs any repairs.

Crosshair attempts to flex each of his fingers, the joints surprisingly moving with ease, causing Crosshair’s brows to lift in surprise. “Oh,” he mutters under his breath, now stretching his hand out, wiggling and adjusting each digit in every possible manner.

“Your tendons seem to be aligned, but we need to test your agility,” Tech comments.

You sit back and watch the two sync up. Tech gives Crosshair a few simple tasks - playing catch, writing, even tying his shoelaces. A few minor adjustments are made, but eventually, Crosshair decides he’s more than content.

“You know where to find me if you require any alternations,” Tech states as he rises from his seat, eager to head off - not out of impoliteness, but it’s date night, and Tech would never dream of being late for such an occasion.

Crosshair thanks his brother one final time before seeing him out, yourself saying goodbye whilst on the comfort of your sofa. The front door shuts, and Crosshair makes his way over to you, finding his place by your side.

“So,” he drags the word out. “What do you think?” He asks, wiggling his new hand in front of your face.

“It suits you,” you nod, admiring the black chrome. What other colour would Crosshair go for?

“Mhm,” Crosshair nods in agreement. He can’t help but introduce his new hand to yours, entwining your fingertips for the first time. To your surprise, the durasteel is nowhere near as cold as you expected it to be, and each finger is smooth and rounded - no sharp edges or bumps.

Crosshair’s eyes wander over the sight, your hand interlinked with his, something that he’ll never get tired of. “What does it feel like?” he questions, gesturing to the physical contact.

“Like I’m holding a robotic hand,” you reply. Ah, Crosshair is reminded why he fell for you; you match his wit and sarcasm in every way, perhaps more than he can bargain for.

A long sign escapes Crosshair’s lips as his eyes meet yours, disappointment deep within them. “Shut up,” he grumbles, but there’s a smile on his lips.

You let out a cheery hum, matching his smile. A kiss naturally follows, tender pecks on the lips, yet there’s lust within them. Nothing intimate has happened since Tantiss, minus kisses, cuddles, and crying together. You can tell that Crosshair’s confidence is growing with his new image, but is this happening too soon? Doesn’t he need time to adjust first?

In between kisses, Crosshair begins mumbling against your lips. “You love me, right?” he questions.

“Is now the time for reassurance?” you bite back, causing Crosshair to chuckle.

“Just answer the question,” he coos, then places another kiss on your lips.

“Of course, I do,” you confirm.

“And you’d do anything for me, right?”

You softly hum. “Only if you’d do the same for me,” you reply.

“I would,” Crosshair replies without missing a beat, no longer bothering with feather-light kisses. Instead, he’s pouncing on you, allowing lust and desire to drive his intentions. You find yourself lying back on the sofa, legs a tangled mess with your lovers, who is looming over you like a predator teasing its prey.

Among the smooches, tugs appear on your waistband. Crosshair is unbuttoning your pants, and as much as you want him, you’re concerned about his timing. Is this really what he needs after taking such a large step in his recovery? Has his new hand even finished installing?

“Cross-” you mutter against his lips.

“Mhm?” Crosshair pulls his lips away, although his hands don’t give up. He’s pulling each trouser leg off, yanking them over your ankles with frustration - something that he always struggled with.

“Are you sure that this is what you need right now?” You question, concern strong within your tone.

Crosshair picks up on it, and comes to a halt, resting his hands on your plush hips. “It is,” he confirms within an instant. “I need to… test it out…” he explains, raising his robotic hand up to your face. “…and I know just the way to do it.”

If Crosshair is comfortable, then you’re comfortable. And hey, there’s no harm in helping him adjust to his new attachment. If this is how he wants to adjust, then why not?

Sloppy kisses are in full swing yet again, all whilst Crosshair is putting his new hand to good use. Sold fingertips find their way to your clothed mound, trailing back and forth. His pressure changes, testing the waters, finding the balance between firm and soft, and Crosshair knows he’s found it when you let out a whimper.

“There we go,” he sighs, his cock stirring from such a small sound. Before you can reply, Crosshair has his lips back on yours, silencing you whilst his fingers do all the work.

A hook on your waistband, and your panties are being pulled from your hips, thrown across the room to be forgotten about. Firmness appears on your clit, a single digit, rediscovering your body all over again. Crosshair needs to start from scratch, following each step with the understanding that this is all new to both you, and him. Every move, the different levels of pressure, are all things that will take time to adjust to.

“A little firmer,” you comment, and Crosshair complies, ensuring that his touch is just how you like it. He’s circling your clit, causing stars to appear in your line of vision - a blacked out state in between kisses.

Crosshair has to break the kiss to bury his head into the curve of your neck, peppering kisses along your jawline. All the while, his fingertips begin to slip lower, soon testing the waters. A single finger slips into you, firmer than ever. Again, it’s not cold - far from it, yet the sensation is alien. You’ve never had a… robotic finger slip inside you before, crossing off a new box on your list.

“How is it?” Crosshair questions the second that he’s knuckle deep within you. His concern is warranted, although you know he’s also subtly asking for validation.

“Good,” you reply without missing a beat. “Firm and… new, but good.”

“You sure?” he double-checks, to which you agree with a simple, “yeah.”

“You know that, if I have any issues, I’ll tell you,” you inform him. He already knows this - he’s heard it a million times over - but it doesn’t hurt to remind him, especially during a time like this.

“I know,” Crosshair mumbles, his lips still pressed to your throat. “I wish I could still feel you,” he confesses. Only now do you realise the lack of nerves that Crosshair has in his new hand. He can’t feel anything, can he? Not your wetness, or your muscles tensing around him. Nothing.

“I guess we’ll need to train you up on your other hand,” you lighten the mood, not wanting Crosshair to wander into dark thoughts during such an intimate moment. That is a conversation for pillow talk.

“Hm, more opportunities to see you like this,” he purrs, thankfully agreeing with your plan.

Kicking things up a notch, Crosshair begins to work his finger, using a rhythm that he knows works for you. Your hands begin to wander his body, caressing each part of him, especially the growing bulge within his pants.

Your fingertips begin to dance over his buttons, but Crosshair moves your attention away. “Wait-” he stutters, his free hand redirecting your hand to his hips. “This is about testing my hand, alright?”

You can’t help but let out a laugh. “Whatever you say, dear.”

On that note, Crosshair slips another finger inside of you, hushing you within an instant. “Don’t believe me, hm?” he hums, yet you’re failing for words as Crosshair curls his fingers upwards, the firm digits pressing against that spot within you.

In the midst of your lust and admiration, you don’t realise the minor differences to his new hand. Sure, it’s firmer, and in some ways, less intimate, but it’s still him - a new part of him that both of you need to get used to, and what a way to break the ice.

The sound of squelching fills the air, and you can feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head as pleasure takes over. Crosshair picks at the opportunity to continue his attack on your neck, leaving the first of many hickeys to assert his claim on you. (Perhaps to warn the new clones that you’re already taken?)

You catch yourself muttering his name, over and over, a mix between a chant and a prayer. By now, Crosshair has his clothed, yet erect cock pressed to your inner thigh, rutting against it with every flick of his wrist. He’s so desperate for your touch, yet he refuses to allow his focus to stray from you - or from ‘testing his new hand,’ as he so put it.

“Kriff-” you curse. Allowing your eyes to open, you lock your gaze with your lover, who looks as blissed out as you do. “Cross, you know that… I’m…”

“I know,” he cuts you off. “All over my finger, please. If you’d be so kind,” he replies, wit laced within his words, as always.

The sensation of orgasming around solid digits is one that you’ll have to get used to, yet it’s nothing but pleasurable. Strange, certainly. But far from negative. Crosshair is almost panting as hard as you are, crashing his lips with yours as he continues rutting against you. During the kisses, you reach down to palm over his cock, and finally, he allows you to get a good feel.

“You need some attention,” you comment. Crosshair chuckles, but the laugher is yanked from his lips as you grasp the upper hand, finding a way to flip your positions. You’re now straddling his lap, nude from the waist downwards, whilst Crosshair is fully clothed, (with a soaking wet hand.)

Crosshair grins, oh-so-eager to not only show you some love, but spend the evening getting all of your frustrations out. Oh, all whilst testing his new hand, because that is what this is really about.

There’s desperation within Crosshair’s grasp as he begins unbuckling his pants, eager to start receiving some of his own relief. “Who do you think will wear out first?” you question, your lips against his. “You? Me? Or your hand?”

Starstruck eyes meet yours. Of course, only you could crack a little joke during the heat of things - Crosshair fell for you for a reason, after all.

“I guess we’ll just have to find out,” he bites back.

“You’re on.”

#tbbwriting #the bad batch #tbb spoilers #tbb #tbb crosshair #f!reader #reader insert #smut #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #female reader #nsft #s3 crosshair

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bucknastysbabe · 3 months

Note

himbo criston pls i need him

Thinkin’ with my— skills! • C.Cole

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Criston is really fucking stupid but good at stuff and things, the Peloton affirmations, shower sex, pnv!sex, he’s a puppy your honor, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, needy needy bb, malewife tendencies, short n sweet n dirty.

Taglist: @valeskafics @fairysluna @arcielee @sugarpoppss2, @lovelykhaleesiii @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @starogeorgina @bambitas @moncherrii

You were awoken. On a Sunday morning. The morning where you got to sleep in. Sitting up and stretching, you listened to the commotion which awakened you. You flopped back down registering the sounds of the stupid expensive peloton your boyfriend-lover?-malewife Criston had to have.

It was a nice mixture of grunts and affirmations between him mumbling, “Fuck yes. I am good!”

You rolled onto your stomach, no, you weren’t going to go back to sleep. Why the fuck would he even leave the door open? Climbing out of bed you pulled on your sweatpants— it was either naked or underwear considering Criston was a fucking furnace.

Passing him by he waved with a smile, “Morning love!”

You grumbled “Don’t you have work, or headphones?”

Criston’s stupidly happy face fell a bit. He replied, “It’s my off day, and I forgot! Sorry!” You waved him off and went to make some cereal, then maybe watch your idiot man on a bike. He was only clad in some tiny shorts, might as well enjoy the glistening tan view.

Watching his thighs flex and medals clink across his delightfully hairy chest, you no longer held any qualms about dummy waking you up. Criston took note embarrassingly late and grinned, flexing like a goofball.

“Like what you see babe?”

You waved your spoon at him to laugh, “No talking, I’m just observing!” He pouted and returned to the set before he finished, shooting one more pitiful look, dark curls adorably plastered to his forehead. He bowed when you clapped, “Bravo, bravo Sir Criston of the Peloton!” There. Now he was happy.

Then he started coming toward you. All sweaty. Which would be different when he’s balls deep inside of you! You began to scramble away, hollering, “No, no, no you’ll stink!” You were enveloped into a sweaty body, fake retching and heaving. Ah, you were dropped. Ow you were dropped!

Criston looked puzzled as you did not puke. You glared up at him and complained, “I wasn’t actually puking dumbass!” Sometimes you wondered how he was a successful handyman in town who owned an entire business when he did things such as this. One time he bit into a fake apple— that sort of dumb, like he continued chewing before realizing. The brunette frowned, “Oh my bad. Sorry baby.”

Now you were back against sweaty body, heading toward the shower. Criston rumbled, “We both have to take a shower now. I got you good.” You chose to laugh along and not bring up the time you convinced him the Earth was flat. He was good with tools, everyone had their talents!

Regardless of IQ questioning, you were quite excited when he pressed you up against the glass of the shower, blindly reaching inside to turn the water on as he kissed and mouthed at your neck. The sound of the water began and Criston yanked down your panties and sweats, groaning softly.

You pulled off your bra, breathlessly questioning.

“Criston! Y-you just got done working out, ah right there baby, and you wanna fuck?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, big hands on your tits, thumbing at a peaked nipple. His long hair tickled at your shoulder, stubbled chin and soft lips nibbling at your neck. You gasped, reaching back to press him against your ass, groaning at that gorgeous cock hot and flushed.

“Fuck, love when you watch me, turns me on,” he rambled, managing to get a couple sloppy kisses from your mouth, still massaging at your chest. You panted back, “Love watching you handsome, c’mon, let’s get in the shower.”

Brown eyes blinked and he seemed to come out of a haze, dropping his tiny shorts and groaning when it slapped against his taught belly. You rasped, “C’mon stud, in the damn water, wash first.” He seemed to disagree with your plan but was shoved down to the bench anyways.

You weren’t going to ever miss a chance to feel up his godly body. Even if he got a little whiny about it. Whiny Criston was cute, scrunched nose and stupid little questions. Soaping up a rag you kissed his cute nose and began washing his upper body. God- you may have spent too much time on his chest, the man was squirming.

Criston complained, “C’mon baby, c’mooon.” Puppy eyes glanced at you. You shook your head to move down to the lower half— feet up to his most tender areas. You were pretty sure you had a mini-orgasm when you touched his cock and balls— the man gasping out and fucking his hips forward, pleading a bit.

“Just your hair left baby,” you cooed to another annoyed gasp of your name. Criston may fuck the shit out of you, but he always listened to commands. He complained again, “Come onnnnn, m’so hard, you look good.” His hands wrapped around your hips, one moving to paw at the flesh of your ass.

Ignoring him you shampooed dark curls, combing through them as he groped you. You cried out when the man’s lips covered your nipple, needily suckling. “F-fucking hell, I’m almost done!,” came your weak chiding. He merely looked up and smiled around your tit. Ushering the needy thing up you pushed him under the hot stream of water.

“You’re so whiny you know that?”

“You took too long, I wanna fuck my girl, like what if I got backed up?” Criston retorted.

Ugh. He made you throb. Even if he was fucking stupid.

Smoothing back his dark hair, Criston closed into your frame, shoving you back to the bench this time and dropping to his knees. Big hands kept you spread as your boyfriend kissed up trembling thighs. He lapped at your soaked cunt, moaning, then flicking his tongue against your clit.

Criston was good with his mouth. And hands. And cock. He hummed around your clit, fingers pumping you and dragging along the soft spot, gorgeous dark orbs watching your face. You couldn’t stop mewling and whining, legs wrapped around his broad shoulders. You had bitten your lip bloody to keep from wailing.

“Aaaah- oh Criston- fuck! M’close, mmmm!”

He only seemed to move faster, suckling at your clit, driving his fingers deeper, the sensation of stubble driving you wild. His other hand slid up your body, tanned hand encircling your throat and barely squeezing.

“Fucking shit!,” you wheezed before falling into a fit of whines and moans, seizing around his pretty face. Your belly tightened along with your back, riding out the orgasm on the man’s face. Criston had you so fucked out already it wasn’t much a chore to lift you up and onto his cock.

He groaned deeply, pressing your back against the wall, the warm warm cascading over you both. Criston’s thick fucking cock had you split open, the girth never changed. Somehow you were a sloppy mess every time. Didn’t matter. He grinned against your flushed cheek, mumbling, “S’tight baby, god, I love you.”

He held you in place, his flat chest rubbing against your tits, fucking up in powerful motions. You held your head back against the stone tile, panting, eyes locked with his own. “Criston, Criston, Criston,” you chanted softly, writhing. He whined through his nose, taking your lips in a desperate move, smashing his nose against your own.

You took his tongue and cock, rendered a shivering mess. But Criston had a lot of damn stamina, cock full and pulsing. Barreling it’s way through your tight walls, rubbing that spot near your cervix. You’d end up in tears most times when he abused that place, cumming so hard you were all snot and tears.

You kissed him back, gasping into warm lips, your pussy being thoroughly abused with loud smacks. Criston growled, slapping your ass, “Mine yeah? S’all mine. Whose cunt is this?” He smacked your ass again, demanding.

“Yours, all yours baby, Criston fuck!”

“That’s not my whole name.”

Fucking hell you could barely string together a sentence and he wanted his entire name? Criston continued, “There’s other Cristons, whose cunt is this?” Your eyes rolled back as he angled his hips again.

“Criston Cole, my pussy belongs to you!,” you gasped raggedly. He smirked and kissed your cheek, all smiley like he wasn’t rearranging internal organs. “Good girl,” he rasped, “You’re so pretty, love you.” You melted a bit, wrapping your arms tighter around tan neck, too strung out to properly kiss the sweetie.

He grunted, readjusting himself, friction now fiery against your cervix, your g-spot when he drug out. You cried helplessly, heaving and practically screaming in pleasure. Criston looked delighted, rambling, “Fuck baby, you’re, oh, uh, oh my god!” Sweet boy was hit or miss with dirty talk.

“Come on, cum on me baby, come on,” he pled, eyes watery now, hips twitching, showing the first sign he might be close. You nodded, blubbering in response, overbearing heat building upwards from your cunt, into your belly and frayed nerves. Criston took a swipe at your clit, puffy lips against your own, swallowing up your wail as you released onto his cock.

Criston’s hips stuttered at the rush of thickened cum around his cock, whining at you.

“Criston, ba-baaaby, you gonna cum in your pussy? It belongs to you,” you stammered out, overstimulated to the point of some cohesion? He whined again, excitement lacing his tone, “Yeah, yeah, keep talking!” You smirked a bit, mildly entertained regardless of scrambled cunt.

“Pretty booooy, my Criston, wan’ you to fill me up, stuff your pussy up. M’so empty!,” you goaded. His reaction was like a car crashing, hips colliding into you, eyes scrunched as he moaned long and loud, cock pumping load after load into your sore channel. Pretty tears gathered at the corner of dark eyes, him nuzzling into your face like the puppy he was.

He finished up with a soft noise, plopping you both down on the bench, resting his forehead on your shoulder— softening cock still deep inside of you. You were about to slide off before big hands held you in place. Criston stated, “No. If you stay here in the heat, it’s like the sperm’s home, my balls, therefore you’d be easier to knock up.”

“Criston.”

“What?,” he seemed confuddled you weren’t getting it.

“I’m on birth control.”

“Ugh. Right,” he muttered while sliding out. The sight of his cum slipping out of you seemed to please the idiot. You tried to hold back delirious laughter as he would get his ‘widdle feewings’ hurt. Kissing his sloped nose you cooed, “One day babes, don’t worry. Can we go cuddle or sleep or something now?”

He nodded, “Yeah babe, can we watch 300 again?”

Sigh.

“Yes Criston we can watch 300 again.”

#ser criston cole #criston cole #criston cole x reader #Ser criston cole x reader #criston cole imagine #hotd smut #ser criston cole smut #hotd fanfic

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dancinglikebutterflywings · 3 months

Text

Say You Love Me Too | Jung Wooyoung

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Manager!Reader

Request: No

Synopsis: Reader has broken a rule that could get her fired. She's fallen in love.

Warnings: forbidden romance (?). Okay, here me out, this was supposed to be a cute platonic imagine about Wooyoung having a favourite manager but it didn't turn out that way. Probably kinda sucks.

Word Count: 1,267

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By the time it’s time to film the dance practice video for ATEEZ’s latest title track, it has been so engrained in Wooyoung that it’s muscle memory at this point. So, when something off to the side behind the camera’s catches his attention, his dancing isn’t affected as he looks over at the woman sitting crossed legged on the floor in the corner of the dance practice room. Wooyoung’s only issue was keeping himself from grinning ear to ear as he took the chance to look over at her when he could.

Y/N’s going through the file of papers that contained ATEEZ’s up and coming schedules and what needed to be done and who was assigned to which task and all the other joys that came along with being one of the managers. She’s mouthing along with the words of the song and occasionally dancing along to it. She’d been there for every practice and got to sit on some of the studio sessions. The song was just as engrained into her as it was the men who sang and preformed it.

“Let’s take a break and go over it again one more time,” the PD-nim's voice cuts through the room, ending filming for now.

With that, she closes the file and stands up, holding the file to her chest so she doesn’t drop it. She stretches her legs, making her way over to her bag and places the file back inside it. As she stands back up straight, a familiar pair of arms wraps themselves around her as the person they belong to hugs her from behind.

“Wooyoung!” she raises her voice, knowing who it is right away. She manages to get out of his hold as she turns around to face him. “Yah! I told you not to hug me when you’re all sweaty,” she continues, scolding him playfully and hitting his shoulder.

“Are you leaving already?” he asks, ignoring your scolding, watching you hang your bag over your shoulder.

“I have a meeting with the stylists to go over the concept looks and outfits for your comeback stage,” she answers and looks at her phone to see she has seven minutes to get to the conference room she was meeting the stylists in.

“Are you coming back after the meeting?” he asks, his voice lowering, wanting to keep their conversation between just the two of them. She shakes her head, no. “Will I get to see you before you leave tonight?”

“Maybe if you catch me on my way out,” she tells him. “If not, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before Wooyoung could say anything more, she leaves the practice room.

But Wooyoung doesn’t give up that easy. He makes up some excuse about needing the bathroom and darts out of the room after her. The PD-nim and Hongjoong both shout at him to not be too long.

“Y/N-ah!” he calls after her, only for her to ignore him as she waits for the elevator to reach her floor.

When the elevator’s doors open, she steps inside just as Wooyoung reaches her. Before the doors can close, he slides into the elevator. When the doors close, she turns to him, frowning. “What are you doing?”

“Why do I get the feeling your avoiding me?” he comments, brushing off her question and the disapproving look on her face.

"I'm not avoiding you. I’m busy making sure everything goes smoothly for your comeback,” she she retorts, refuting any claims of avoidance he was accusing her of. "I've been practically juggling two jobs ever since the manager who used to handle this with me switched groups. KQ needs-”

"Is it because of the kiss?" he interjects, cutting off her rambling.

Her body tenses up, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red at the mention of the kiss they shared the night before.

Wooyoung has always made it obvious that he cares deeply for her. From the way his gaze always found her in a crowded room, the way he would look at her with adoration in his eyes, and the way he always made an effort to be with her or beside her. Wooyoung's affection for her was undeniable. And it wasn’t something happened over night. It had built up gradually of the two years she’s been working for them.

Y/N would be lying to herself and everyone around her if she said she didn’t feel the same. But her job was at risk if she ever gave into those feelings. She made it as clear as possible that her and Wooyoung would never go past just being friends.

Until last night happened. He’d kissed her in a moment of weakness on both their parts. She wanted to regret it so bad, but she couldn’t bring herself to. The more she thought about it the more she wanted it to happen again and the more she was willing to look for another job so it could happen again.

She was truly at a crossroads.

“Can we not talk about that?” she asks, even though she wants to. Using her phone as a distraction from looking at him, she sees she has a minute left to get to the conference room.

“I think we should,” he says disagreeing with her choice not to talk about it.

“Not here, not now,” she sighs as the elevator reaches the floor she needs to be on. He follows her out and gently takes her arm stopping her from walking away and turning her back to face him.

“Can I stop by your apartment later?” he asks, his voice once again only quiet enough for her to hear as someone walks by them on to the elevator.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says, without saying no. “You have late nights and early mornings. You need all the rest you can get. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow when I arrive.”

“But we can’t talk then,” he frowns with a slight pout.

“Maybe it’s best if we didn’t,” she sighs sadly, as she thinks with her brain and not her heart. She leaves him standing in the middle of the corridor, both their hearts breaking for something they want but can never happen.

He’s about to turn around and head back to the practice room when Y/N walks out of the room she just walked into a moment ago. He looks at her confused.

“I need to know,” she speaks before he could ask her what’s going on. “I need to know if your serious about us.”

“The last time I was this serious about someone was when I told Yeosang him and I were going to succeed or fail together,” he admits. “Look how that turned out.”

“Do you think we can make this work?” she asks, a hopeful and anxious look swirling in her eyes.

“I don’t know but I hope we can,” he says, also hopeful as he takes her hand and pulls her into an empty room, just as the elevator doors open alerting them that someone is about to enter the corridor. After the door closes behind them, he takes her face in his hands, tilting her head so he can look into her eyes. “What I do know is that I can’t ignore that I’ve fallen in love you. I never expected to but here we are. Say you love me too.”

“I love you, too,” falls from her lips before she has time to think about it.

Wooyoung smiles and kisses her deeply, trying to convey all the love he has for her.

Likes, Comments & Reblogs are welcomed and appreciated.

©️ 2024 CRAZYFORMFICS. NO ONE HAS PERMISSION TO COPY, TRANSLATE AND/OR REPOST MY WORKS ON HERE OR ANY OTHER SITE.

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#jung wooyoung #wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #jung wooyoung imagines #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung fics #wooyoung x y/n #jung wooyoung x y/n #ateez fics #ateez x y/n #atz x reader #atz

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tragedy-of-commons · 2 months

Text

when somebody needs you (+ baklava)

kaveh & gn!reader | wc: ~1.5k

In a much-needed moment of respite, you and Kaveh both learn not to give so much in the pursuit of others' happiness.

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, mild angst, written platonically but can be interpreted as romantic, description of disassociation (reader), and nail-picking (kaveh)

notes: n/a

A voice calls your name, dangerously soft.

You want to snap out of the stupor you’re stuck in, but white noise rings in your ears. It threatens to drown out the singsong of daily life as the seconds tick by. Maybe you didn’t even hear it at all, because the sunlight feels fake upon your skin, and the line between reality and the pit of your mind blurs further.

Your name again, louder. Ah, well, no excuse now - do something.

“Hm?” you hum. A small part of you realizes that you’ve been staring at the same market stall for at least an hour, but it’s easier to remain transfixed on an inconsequential target than your own thoughts.

“I asked if you’re alright,” they place a hand on your shoulder and squeeze. “Ahem, that brute stole my ke–uh, something important of mine again. I was heading back here to kill time, but you’re still in the same spot as when I first saw you.”

Kaveh. His hand is on your shoulder, and you can picture his brow furrowed in concern that you don’t deserve. You take a deep breath.

“Yes. I’m alright.” You don’t dare face him.

The silence that follows your lie is comforting. However, the architect must not agree. Kaveh finds his words after a too-long pause. “..In that case, could I sit with you? It’s beautiful out today.”

You nod mechanically, and a blur of blond and white settles in your peripherals.

“You know,” he starts, and you strain to hear him. “I haven’t seen you around much lately. If there’s something you want to talk about, I can listen. We could get lunch,” he offers kindly.

You wrench your head to the side to take a good look at your friend. He’s breathtaking, and it’s almost criminal that he doesn’t realize it. He’s looking at you with his bleeding heart on display, and you know that he knows. He must, right?

“With what mora?” you joke. Kaveh lights up like he just won the lottery when you bloom at his behest. “Why, Alhaitham’s, of course.”

That’s right; he’s more inclined to let go of his pride when you’re around. One usually can’t waterboard his living situation or reliance upon his roommate out of him. It’s not that he’s arrogant, you think, but that he has to shed his Light of Kshahrewar persona - and you’re grateful for the privilege. He certainly deserves a reprieve, even if it’s better spent with someone else.

“And that wouldn’t be too much trouble?” “Nonsense, don’t be silly. I could also use your opinion on some of my revisions,” his bravado softens. “I’d love your company.”

He’d love your company. It’s dangerous for him to say things like that - sweet conjectures that haul you to your feet and make you agree to spend the afternoon with him.

Walking down Treasures Street with Kaveh is a familiar activity, sure, but this time he’s merciful enough not to comment on your sluggish movements or lackluster replies, when you’re usually matching his intellectual wit head-on. Another thing you owe him.

“Something sweet is a must,” he mutters, holding the door of Puspa Café open for you. “What do you think? Baklava?”

On second thought, maybe you’ll save your debilitating guilt for after dessert.

When Kaveh’s teeth are sufficiently sticky, there still has been no heart-to-heart therapeutic conversation. Something awful gnaws at him when you stare blankly down at your portion. So, he talks at you like you’re a client, even if it feels wrong. You’re his friend, someone who has seen him at his worst - and he finds himself lacking the right words to get you to open up. As he rambles about his recent projects, his work on Mehrak, and the trips he’s taken to the desert, he’s reminded of how little you’ve talked about yourself period.

He can preach about tact to his roommate all he likes, but this is a contender for one of his more humbling experiences. How many times have you wanted to leave early before this, but you were too wonderful to say anything? How many hours of your life has he wasted by making everything all about him?

Inviting you here was supposed to be an attempt at listening to you for once, and he– You snap in front of his face. “Hey. You’re not making any sense.” “Oh! Sorry, I must have gotten caught up in my thoughts,” he chuckles sheepishly. “I know the feeling. Also,” you rap against the table near his lounging hand, one of his restless index fingers picking at the adjacent thumb’s cuticle. “You’re messing with your nails again. Something on your mind?” His heart is about to overflow whether he likes it or not. “I want to help.” You blink twice, eyes now glossy. Since when did you perk up? “You are helping.” “I’ve been rambling this whole time–” “–And I’ve been listening,” You cross your arms over your chest matter-of-factly, now chuckling. “Clearly you haven’t, because in the latter half of that spiel, you started reciting shitty poetry instead of whatever filler you had prepped.” The soft expression he wore morphs into abject horror. “I did not.” You’re grinning evilly, and it’s beautiful. Oh Archons, he did. However, had he known making a fool of himself frees you of your pain that you guard sacred, he would have screamed purple prose from the rooftops like a madman at the earliest opportunity. “That aside, what I’m trying to say is.. you are helping, Kaveh. Dragging me here, away from all the noise, and keeping me company means a lot.” The mist haunting your visage has been warded off, accidental soliloquy aside. “I’m sorry for not being upfront about my situation.” “I know the feeling,” he parrots. The scope of his empathy extends to everyone, himself be damned, but it shouldn’t have taken this long to realize what’s been festering in plain sight. “No apologies. Please allow me to lend an ear, even if I’ve been difficult about it myself. I insist.”

A sip of cold, neglected coffee can’t taste too good. You tough it out and then nod stiffly. Details emerge cautiously, muddled by hesitancy and exhaustion, but he listens with rapt attention. Kaveh feels closer than a seat away from you, backing you with all the support he can muster - and when you choke up in front of him for the first time, he swears that he’ll make sure you feel safe enough to do so more often, starting with Baklava pick-me-ups every week.

Regrettably, the world moves on. Tabs are settled, the tear tracks on your cheeks dry, and the sun begins to set, casting the district in a citrinous orange. Though your mind is clearer than it has been in days, there’s still a niggling urgency as you walk your friend back to his Not-Home.

You’re not alright. You’re not alright, and Kaveh knows more than you ever planned to tell him, but at least there’s comfort in the fact that he’s the exact same way. He never planned to tell you about his mother, or the monumental regrets he’d do anything to put to bed. When he let you in, you should have made yourself at home also. Now there is no idle chatter. You pick up the torch. “I like when you talk. Just because you felt like it wasn’t helping me is no reason to go all quiet on me now,” you nudge him with your elbow. Carmine eyes narrow in suspicion. “B-But I literally ‘recited shitty poetry’ when I was–” “Oh, about that..” Kaveh’s strides stretch wider, his many accessories bouncing in pursuit of a space safe from your teasing. A playful scoff. “..I’m never living that down, am I?” “If you don’t want your experimental free verse plastered on the nearest message board, I’ll be expecting a bribe prepared by next Wednesday.” You think the architect is endeared enough by your noticeable uplift in spirit to let it slide. You love him very much, and he must love you too. “Extortion is a serious crime,” he slows down, taking it like a champ. “But it’s a deal. We could meet again then, same spot? I’ll have ample time in the late afternoon.” It hurts to swallow. “Yeah. We could.. talk.” His head eagerly swivels towards you, one hair clip almost dislodging. There’s no missing the glimmer of hope present in each almost imperceptible warp of his features. Alhaitham’s house looms in the distance. “About what’s on your mind?” he hopes. “Yes,” you make yourself say it. “And yours too. Then the revisions you’ve agonized over the last two months.” Kaveh releases the breath he was holding, unabashed in his smiling now. “It’s a promise then.” Such a promise with your best friend is something you’ll try to stop feeling guilty about. As you watch him break from your side onto the porch of his temporary residence (and pound on the door irately), you believe that it will get easier. After all, who else will buy you dessert?

#✧ my works #—stellaronhvnters.#kaveh x reader #platonic kaveh x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #platonic genshin x reader #kaveh x gn!reader #platonic genshin impact x reader

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vodika-vibes · 2 months

Note

could I have pearl with Fives at night please?

I love your writing so much!!!!!

So This Is Love

Summary: A late night rendezvous on Coruscant gives Fives the opportunity to make a confession.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader

Word Count: 699

Prompts: Pearl - Honest Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thank you for your request! I freely admit that I wrote this before I finished my coffee, so it might not flow well.

“I appreciate you walking me home, Fives.”

He turns to look at her, a crooked grin crossing his face, “It’s not a problem. Pretty lady like you shouldn’t be walking around alone so late at night anyway. It’s not safe.”

She sighs, “Don’t I know it. But the Gallery wanted to keep going until all of the art was sold-”

“Did it work?”

She grins at him, “It did~”

He laughs and throws his arm over her shoulder, “That means the next time we go to 79s, drinks are on you. Right?”

She giggles, a pretty noise that has him tugging her closer to his side, “It’s only fair, I suppose. After all, you and your brothers are the inspiration for my artwork.”

“Ooh, so I suppose we’re famous now,”

She laughs and elbows him lightly, “Inspiration, not subject.”

“If you wanted to paint me, you could. I wouldn’t mind.”

She averts her gaze, “Ah, well…maybe. But I wouldn’t want to sell that one.”

Fives’ stomach flips pleasantly, “Because you love me and want to look at me as often as you can.” He says with a bright grin.

She huffs and bumps him with her shoulder, “Because the Republic has already taken so much from you, they don’t get this too.” She corrects.

He pauses, and then his arm tightens around her, “You might be one of the few people on Coruscant who actually understands where the clones legally stand.”

“Yeah, well…” Her hand comes up and she threads her fingers with his. Her hand is so much smaller and so much softer than his. Fives almost worries that his touch will hurt her. Almost.

“Yeah, well-?” He prods.

“If more people paid attention they’d see.”

“They don’t want to see, beautiful. We both know that.”

She scowls off into the distance, and Fives laughs, before he leans in and bumps his forehead against the side of her head, lightly rubbing his nose against her cheek, “You care though,” He adds, “That’s enough for me.”

“You deserve so much better though!” She says as she turns her head to look at him, her nose bumping against his.

Fives doesn’t bother to give her any space. If anything, he wants to be closer to her. “You know, beautiful, I don’t think life is about what you deserve.”

She huffs, “It should be. You and your brothers deserve so much more than the Republic-” She rambles.

“I love you.”

She stops mid-sentence and blinks at him. “You…what?”

“I love you. I’m in love with you.” Fives flashes a nervous smile, “I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks, but telling you over comm just felt cheap.”

“You love me? Why?” She asks, looking so genuinely befuddled that Fives can’t help but laugh.

“Ah, so you want me to list all of the ways that I love you?” Fives teases, “Well, alright. If you insist. Reason one, I love the way you look at me, like I’m the only man in the galaxy. Reason two, I love how we can sit and talk for hours about anything and everything. Reason three-”

He stops when she presses her hand over his mouth, her face burning, “Please stop.”

“But I barely started. You didn’t even let me list all of the physical reasons I love you. Like your hair. And eyes. And lips-”

“Fives!”

“And I really love how you say my name-” He continues, a wide grin on his face.

And then he’s stopped for real, because her lips are pressed against his, and he has something much more interesting to focus on. Like replacing all of the oxygen in her lungs with him.

When he breaks the kiss, her gaze is hazy and she’s slightly breathless, “In case you were wondering,” she mumbles, “I love you too. But I’m not going to list all of the reasons why! Your ego is big enough as it is!”

Fives just chuckles and kisses her again. “Does this mean that I can come in when we get to your place?” He asks against her lips.

“Only if you want.” She replies.

“Beautiful, I’ve wanted an invitation to your home for months. I’d be honored.”

#star wars #tcw #vodika vibes 500 followers celebration #arc trooper fives x reader #fives x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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grimm-writings · 21 days

Note

May I request a Holm x reader where his sister introduces you to him as an apprentice for spirit care?

where the heart is

…ft! holm x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, meet-cute, mentioned kabru wrecking homes (/lh)

…wc! 930

…notes! i’ve seen your acc around my friend you’re like the head of the holm fanclub in my brain. i have so much respect for ya. i hope i do your man justice!!!

Knowing your friend as well as you do, you didn’t doubt she would eventually introduce you to her younger brother in due time. All three of you are elemental spirit researchers, and though the siblings are rather estranged, you hear a thing or two about this ‘Holm’ individual whenever a certain pretty-faced tall-man comes by.

“Who’s Holm?” You one day ask. Your gnomish friend shrivels up slightly at the question. She doesn’t normally talk about her family, a bit too estranged from them to really care too much for them.

“My brother. You heard Kabru, I’m sure,” she answers.

You shake your head. “Yeah, but who is he?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious.” You smile in a way that sends a shiver up your friend’s spine. “You know me!”

Since she’d rather not deal with your questioning, she instead arranges through Kabru to introduce you both. Your incessant ramblings of how he must be a talented researcher if he makes use of spirits in adventuring, and how you’d like to study under him made her blood boil. This is the only way she’ll find respite.

You’d spot Holm instantly in a tavern – he looks similar enough to his sister after all – and put on your best, brightest smile. Beside you, your friend adjusts her glasses to deadpan you.

“Don’t get your hopes up about this apprenticeship thing,” she advises.

You reach out to pat her cheek, tutting. “Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head! I’ll only be an hour, and so much can happen in that time!”

Leaving your friend to scrunch up her face in disgust at your delight at getting your way, you’d skip away to introduce yourself to Holm.

Names are exchanged, and you and the gnome shake hands. Gosh, now that you’re here, you can feel your nerves start to catch up to you. Holm seems easy–going enough, a little less prickly than his sister, but still witty enough to catch you out with jokes you wouldn’t expect.

“You study elemental spirits, and utilise them in dungeons, right?” You call upon previous knowledge of the gnome across from you. “That sounds fascinating! How do you do it so easily?”

Holm lazily grins at you, endearment crossing his expression at how interested you seem to be. Whether it’s interest in him or his study, he seems flattered. “Spirit care comes easy. It’s like raising a pet. I had Marillier, an undine, in my care since she’s just a little droplet. With time and trust, calling upon an elemental spirit’s help comes easy.”

“Ooh, how wise!” You clasp your hands together. “You’d make a great teacher, Holm. Ever thought of taking in an apprentice?”

Holm tilts his head. “Ah, interested, are you?”

Knowing you’d been caught, you simply smile at Holm with a bit of sheepishness. “Is that so bad? Your sister hardly mentioned you, but you seem so intelligent! I should thank that Kabru man for letting me know of your existence!”

At the mention of his sister and party leader meeting, Holm frowns. “They’re still meeting, eh? Nothing too suggestive going on between them, I hope?”

Even when filled with a slight sense of disgust, you can’t help but find him cute. Haaahhh, this will be the death of you!

“Don’t worry,” you reassure, “he merely comes over for tea sometimes.”

You neglect to leave out the type of letters she’d be writing to him. That’s a bit much for what you consider a first date.

Holm heaves a sigh of relief, reaching up to twirl his hair. “Thank goodness for that…”

The conversation continues, the two of you getting along like a house on fire, until Holm’s sister comes by to pick you up an hour later.

Just before you say your goodbyes, you perk up. “Oh!” Turning to Holm one final time you smile. “Sorry, but I didn’t get your answer on that apprenticeship idea?”

Holm ponders on this for a few seconds, almost freezing in place at your sudden question. A long few moments pass, and your friend was just about to speak up when Holm shyly interrupts.

“I don’t think I can take you on as an apprentice… I think I’d prefer a more personal relationship with you, if that’s alright…”

The answer, even if it wasn’t the outcome you predicted, fills you with happiness unlike any other nevertheless. You graciously thank Holm, turning to your friend with a wicked grin, reacting in shock at the fact you’re just inviting yourself into her family.

“Ah–” Holm says. “Before you go…”

“Yes?” You face the gnome again, blinking curiously.

He takes a few moments to gather himself, before asking, “would you like to join me for dinner tomorrow evening? I’m free, so…”

“I’d be honoured!” You don’t even hesitate to reply. You can sense your friend’s disgust even without looking at her.

Holm smiles with relief. “Thank you. I’ll meet you outside this tavern again…?”

“Yes!” You nod eagerly. “I’d even bring along some of my own notes if you’d like to compare!”

“Ah, a study date?” Holm perks up slightly. “Yes, I’d like that a lot…”

“I’m still here, you know,” Holm’s sister dryly butts in. With some apologies, she finally drags you away from her brother, grumbling that this must be how he feels about her flame…

You giggle at her reaction once you walk outside. “Oh, don’t be like that!” You whine. “Aren’t you happy to have me be a part of your home?”

“You better not!”

You blissfully ignore her scolding. Yes, a successful venture indeed.

#✮ grimm's fics!#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon x reader #holm #holm x reader #holm kranom #holm kranom x reader #holm imagines #holm kranom imagines #that'll probably do tagwise #do you get the pun. holm is where the heart is. haha.

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mitchellpete · 11 months

Text

Firsts

summary: You’re bad at playing hard to get, and you don’t want to let the opportunity slip. Maverick gives you your first motorcycle ride.

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x gn!reader

tags/warnings: maverick being flirty, shy!reader but also not really?, some drinking mentioned, overall fluff

word count: 1.4k

A/N: i feel terrible that i keep making excuses not to post so i'll let you guys have this one. i don't know who's still on top gun tumblr but i hope you guys are still around. and that you guys like this! it was supposed to be a drabble but..?? ANDDD one more thing: my request page has updated also!

“Wait, you’ve never been on a bike before?”

“I’ve been on a bike. I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”

Maverick scoffs and then cocks a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips in his frail attempt at reading you, or at least pretending he knew you.

Except he doesn’t, because out of the many outings at the bar, tonight had been the first time he’d spotted you. You were ashamed to admit that it was kind of flattering having him follow you around for a good half an hour, even after you locked eyes with mustache Hawaiian shirt blonde guy across the room. Ah, it was all a game. But God, was Maverick pretty. And charming. You couldn’t decide whether you were bad at playing hard to get or if you simply didn’t mind being the game.

(It was definitely the former.)

Panic filled you later that night when you watched him slip his jacket on on the opposite side of the room. He was still distractedly rambling with his friend, however, and you took the opportunity to push past at least 5 people and make it out of the door before he did.

What to say or do the moment he stepped out? Your head was empty. But hey, he’d see you out there, make another flirtatious comment, make you blush and then it’d go on from there, right? God, please.

This had to have been like the fourth time you’d seen him. He was most certainly the prettiest out of all the aviators that confidently waltzed into the bar every time you and your friend met for drinks.

Miramar. A lovely place, truly.

Beautiful, too. The sunset is beginning to form, and you step towards the wooden fence separating the sand from the small parking lot in front of the building. A packed bar, only a few vehicles. You wonder if any of them belong to Maverick. You pray that he walks this way at all.

The beach in front of you is littered with people, families, couples. There is chatter everywhere, drowning out the sound of the bell on the door behind you, or the sound of his voice if he happens to be walking out, talking to his friend.

That’s why when you eventually zone out maybe a good ten minutes later, you don’t notice that he’s already walked past you, striding towards the vehicle closest to you. The motorcycle. Red, black, adorned with decals that match the patches on his pretty jacket. You wish you’d noticed.

He’d certainly noticed you, watching you avoid his gaze as he swung a leg over and took a seat. “Going for a swim?”

FUCK.

Tongue in your cheek, you meet his eyes. “No. I.. needed some air. Where’s your friend?”

“Where’s yours?” A cheeky smile spread on his face as he reached for the handles.

Oh, he’s sooooooo—

“Inside. I’m uh, actually waiting for another friend right now. She’s picking me up soon, I think.” Lies, lies, lies.

“In a car?”

“On a motorcycle, actually. How fast does yours go?” Jesus Christ. You know nothing about motorcycles, by the way.

He leans slightly forward, intrigued by your response. “Faster.”

“Hm.” You glance out at the shoreline again, at the sun turning bright orange. You feel the warmth on your cheeks. Stupid. You’re playing hard to get again, for fuck’s sake. He’s too pretty, it makes you nervous.

Lucky for you, he breaks the tense feeling in your stomach with a laugh. “Actually?”

He sticks the key into the ignition, filling you with the slight panic from before that he’s slipping away.

You fake a snicker, although it comes out dry and humorless. “I’m kidding. I don’t know a thing about motorcycles.”

The sudden rev of the engine startles you, and he smiles. “Some people are just meant to look pretty on the back of ‘em, I think.”

There was already a warmth to your cheeks, but now it’s heat. “Well.. that sounds like fun.”

Furrowed brows. “Wait, you’ve never been on a bike before?”

You snicker again, this time for real. “I’ve been on a bike. I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”

Maverick scoffs and then cocks a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips in his frail attempt at reading you, or at least pretending he knew you. Playfully rolling his eyes, he revs the engine again and waves you over with his hand. “Come on.”

Your face falls. A different kind of panic. “Huh?”

“Just a quick ride. Before your friend gets here.”

“A-are you sure?”

“You’re scared?” He grins.

“I—No. I just..” You hesitantly make your way over, your legs suddenly weak. “I drank a little, so I don’t—”

“Can you relax?” He laughs again, his laughter as pretty as he is. “It’s not scary, I promise. Here, step on that part. Just hold onto me and hop on.” He points down below and then sticks his arm out for you to grab.

“I’m not scared,” you mumble as you manage to perch yourself on the space behind him, careful not to grip his arm too tight. “I think you’re a little strange, is all.”

“How so? You gotta hold onto me, sweetheart.” Another engine rev. What is his deal?

You lean forward as much as you can, pressing yourself to him and wrapping your arms around his middle. The seat behind his is slightly raised, and your face absentmindedly presses into the back crook of his neck. It’s too late to pull back when you realize, and the heat in your cheeks starts to burn. Nevertheless, you go through with your accusations.

“Well,” you begin, conscious of your voice as to not be loud in his ear. “You follow me around the bar for some stupid bet, and.. now you’ve forced me onto your bike.”

Ha. As if you hadn’t planned all of this. Sort of.

Another pretty laugh. “It’s a motorcycle,” he mocks you.

That gets a laugh out of you, squeezing your arms around him a bit as he starts to move.

“Although, I do have to say—” He halts, a foot firm on the ground, and turns to look you over his shoulder. “Out of anybody I’ve followed around the bar, you’re the only one I’d give a ride to.”

God. You think you’re already in love with him. “That so?”

He presses his lips together and nods, fake serious.

Pressing your forehead to the back of his jacket, you chuckle. “I guess that means I owe you something.”

“I’ll start driving on one condition,” he offers, his tone playful.

“Hm?”

“Give me a kiss.”

Oh boy. It’s easy by now; you’re already melting into him. Glancing up, your surroundings become a blur and all the outside chatter, the bell on the door and the sound of the other cars go completely silent as you lean your neck to reach. It’s a peck, but it’s complete; all of your lips feel the soft skin of his cheek, plump from a smile under your kiss. And then your chin goes to rest on his shoulder, and next thing you know, you’re off.

There’s suddenly wind; you weren’t prepared for your hair to flow, as he took off from the parking lot and immediately down the road.

You’re clinging onto him with all your might, maybe a little scared for a moment, but then it starts to feel nice. You don’t even recall the moment he’d slipped his aviators on; perhaps the little kiss you gave him left you in awe instead of vice-versa, or maybe it was the drinks you’d had earlier? Maverick says something but you barely hear it, your stomach fluttering in excitement as he swerves between cars to get out of their way, to fly by beyond them on the road and to make the moment about just the two of you. Nobody else on the road.

He turns onto a different road, this one longer and less crowded, and you squeal as he starts going faster. A euphoric feeling overtakes you, and even in the wind, through the sound of the engine and Maverick’s muffled voice, you’re convinced you can’t let him slip away after this one either.

“Maverick!”

Wind, wind, wind. The engine.

Tapping a hand on his side instead, you catch his attention. He slows down just a bit, momentarily glancing over his shoulder again before looking back at the road.

“You wanna stop?” he yells.

“No!” you shout back. “I just wanted you to know something!”

“What is it?!”

You lean closer to his ear, face in the crook of his neck again. “I was lying! There is no friend!”

He grins. “I know!”

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