#i am once again fashionably late | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rashomonss · 3 months

Note

I couldn't stop thinking about this after reading your "Readjusting" hc

Imagine that the reason MC started acting like a "proper" attendant was because Barbatos couldn't stand how improper and casual Mc was with the brothers. He decides to take her under his wing but he isn't gentle about it, not even when it becomes clear that MC is human, on the contraire, he becomes harsher with his methods until even the brothers notice. Meanwhile MC could be in the state of mind to believe that they deserve to be treated in such ways because they feel guilty over letting everyone assume they were a demon

Also think about how this treatment would affect MC relationship with Barbatos. Imagine MC slipping up in front of him and immediately tensing and starting to apologize. How scared MC would be of even the thought of doing something NB!Barbatos though them was wrong and undignified of her to do/say as the brothers attendant.

And how heartbroken OM!Barbatos would be at seeing MC be so terrified of him.

so I’m currently deep diving thru my drafts and inbox and this was from forever ago so I’m so sorry I’m only getting it done now (,,Ծ‸Ծ,, )

anyway oh. my. god.

i absolutely love this idea! the angst potential this ask has is literally to die for. i’ll be incorporating a few of my readjusting ideas as well and yeah i know nightbringer didn’t go in this direction but im going in it anyway, so i hope yall enjoy! (๑>؂•̀๑)

you’re nothing more and nothing less

You admired yourself in the mirror then stared at the reflection looking back at you.

Sighing you gave yourself a small smile, then remembered his words before giving yourself one last look in the mirror.

“You really do look decent when you know how to clean up.”

An attendant is supposed to look sharp, and presentable no matter the circumstance. They are a direct representation of who they’re serving. How was a noble demon supposed to take the seven rulers of hell seriously if their attendant didn’t even know how to properly dress or present themselves?

Your tie had to be perfectly crisp and presentable, same with the cuffs of your uniform; not a wrinkle should be present. Next, your preferred uniform bottom was ironed with no wrinkle in sight, and your shoes shined to the point you could see your reflection. Each plead and fold was sharp, crisp, and perfect.

Your hair looked presentable and you carried out your normal face routine making sure you looked awake and ready for the day. Finally, you organized your belongings and sat them by your table in a neat fashion ready to be grabbed once you headed off to RAD.

You then made your way to the kitchen and prepared breakfast for everyone as well as coffee and tea for those who usually required it.

As you were finishing up most of the food Beel walked into the kitchen heading straight for the fridge. “Morning MC,” he said catching his breath.

“Good Morning Beel, how was your run? Also, your snack is on the counter so please refrain from eating anything in the fridge,” you replied, as you continued cooking.

“Oh thank you.” he smiled while closing the fridge. As he sat at the counter watching you cook he couldn’t help but become confused at the sight. “Wasn’t it Levi’s turn to make breakfast this morning?”

“It was but he stayed up late last night, and I had a feeling he would oversleep so I took the liberty of making it myself. Not to worry though because I have nothing against cooking for all of you”

Beel frowned in response “Yeah but this is the third day in a row you’ve prepared breakfast and dinner”

“Is it now? Well I have no problems with it unless the rest of you do, I am your attendant after all.”

Beel stopped eating and frowned again, “MC you’re an exchange student from the human realm. You’re back home; there’s no reason for you to still act as our attendant.”

You didn’t respond, instead you finished up the food and began to plate each brothers breakfast. Beel tried to speak again but you cut him off.

“Apologies but could you do me a favor and wake up your brothers for breakfast? I wouldn’t want them to be late for classes.”

Beel gave you a sympathetic look and nodded just before leaving the kitchen.

You did stop to think about his words though. After all everything that happened in the past didn’t need to be continued in the present, you could go back to living how you normally did before.

The only problem was that you didn’t know how to go back to that carefree lifestyle. After being on edge constantly while being stuck in the past you found yourself adapting to that lifestyle. So breaking it all of a sudden was much harder than everyone understood.

Humans are adaptable creatures, they adapt and survive to whatever environment they are thrown into, no matter the circumstances; at least that’s how he explained it.

He drilled it into your head that if you wanted to survive against the best of the best you needed to be superior in every way. It didn’t matter to him if you were a demon or human, neither was an acceptable excuse for not being absolutely perfect.

This mindset had been engraved into your soul during the small time period you were there, so for everyone to just tell you to forget about it was something you couldn’t do even if you tried. They all needed to accept that this was how you were now; and maybe with due time you’ll revert back to your old self.

Numerous voices could be heard in the dining room causing you to snap out of your thoughts. You sighed and then took a deep breath before walking into the room with everyone’s plates.

“Good morning everyone, how’s are all of you?” You asked placing plates in front of each brother at the table.

“Mornin’ MC, I’m fine how are ya?” Mammon said yawning.

“I’m good thank you for asking, but I would be even better if you fixed your tie and shirt” you smiled, placing his food in front of him.

“Dah you sound like Lucifer…” he groaned. It did work however because he buttoned up his shirt and tightened his tie before eating, to which you smiled at him in response.

“That goes for all of you as well, fix your uniforms please.” you said, placing the last plate in Lucifer’s spot. Each groaned and fixed themselves as well before they began to eat.

A laugh was then heard from the doorway which made you look up in response. The oldest then greeted you with a kiss to the cheek before sitting down.

“I see your keeping them on a tighter leash than I am.” Lucifer said looked up at you.

“Well of course. How is anyone supposed to take the seven of you seriously when you don’t even wear the uniform properly.” The room fell silent and Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “Thank you MC, but you realize that you don’t have to worry about our images anymore. You know your home correct..? You don’t have to continue being our attendant.”

You sighed then spoke after a few minutes. “Thank you for your concern I appreciate it, but if you’ll excuse me I have to get the dishes clean”

“Wait you’re not having breakfast with us dear?” Asmo asked worried.

“You haven’t eaten with us at all since you came back. Come on MC, please?” Satan then said.

“I appreciate the concern but I already ate. Thank you for the offer though, I do appreciate it. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“As their attendant you should not be eating with them unless permitted on a special occasion. It’s basic etiquette as a servant to eat in the kitchen. So you will eat when I eat. Understand?”

That phrase popped in you head again and you sighed heading towards the kitchen.

. . .

The walk to RAD was normal, for you at least, the brothers were a different story entirely.

They tried engaging with you or even walking next to you but you stayed silent and walked behind them.

Normally you’d walk at the same pace and would engage in any kind of small talk but ever since you returned walks to a from RAD had been awkward for the brothers.

Barbatos never walked next to Diavolo, and he taught you to do the same with the brothers.

“You aren’t from the same status, so you should take your place behind them as a result.”

That phrase played in your head as Mammon talked to you about his latest new scheme. You realized that he was walking at the same pace you were so you slowed down ever so slight and engaged in a bit of small talk with him.

The second born frowned as he saw you retreating again, so with a sigh he finished talking and walked a bit faster to catch up with the eldest.

You could see them shorting you glances and whispering to each other but neither said a word to you.

You understood they probably weren’t a fan of this behavior either, but it’s not as if you could break it anytime soon, after all what would he think if you were acting casual with everyone again?

. . .

“Good morning MC” Barbatos spoke, smiling as he slightly waved at you.

Upon seeing him your posture straightened up and you immediately greeted him back with a wave and a nod, in the same fashion he greeted you with. You held eye contact for a brief moment then looked over towards Lucifer.

“I believe we should head out now. There’s paperwork to be done. It was lovely running into you but we’ll be on our way now” you said to the butler.

Before he even had a chance to respond you grabbed Lucifer and dragged him through the hall leaving a confused Barbatos alone in the hallway.

Lucifer tried to question you about your behavior towards the butler but you always avoided talking about it.

Diavolo tried his hand as well and you had given him the same excuse you gave Lucifer. Sighing, the two decided to talk to you over tea instead, hoping that it might calm the mood.

So you followed Lucifer into the council room where Diavolo sat, waiting with a smile. The minute you saw him you smiled back, but soon tensed when Barbatos appeared behind him.

“Sit down MC” Diavolo gestured as soon as you reached the table.

You bowed slightly and did as you were told, making sure to keep yourself in line while Barbatos was present.

Barbatos from the past despised when you were casual with Lord Diavolo and shut down your relationship with him the second he took you as an apprentice.

As Diavolo began to speak you listened attentively and sat up straight making sure to hold eye contact just as Barbatos had instructed you to do before

“MC…” he started. “I understand that it's taken you awhile to try and readjust to everything again, and while we don’t want to pester your progress we do want to talk to you about a few things.”

Were you in trouble? Your heart sank to your stomach as you gripped your uniform bottoms under the table.

“What can I help you with then?” You asked.

“Well for starters you needn’t be so tense, we’re close after all! It’s okay to let loose around us” Diavolo smiled as he gestured towards Lucifer who nodded in response.

“I thank you for your concern, and I will try to relax as you asked” you then nodded.

Your formal response tugged at a frown on Diavolo’s face. “Thank you, now then let’s enjoy some tea.” he said, trying to quickly change the subject.

You froze on the spot as Barbatos brought out the cart of tea and a few snacks. Immediately you jumped up and helped him set the table, much to everyone’s surprise.

“MC, you can leave it to me.” Barbatos said after a moment.

“I understand” you nodded yet still continued picking up the tray of snacks and placing plates in front of Lucifer and Diavolo.

After you finished you stepped behind Barbatos, almost as if you were his shadow. With a sigh he turned to you and tried to ask you to sit back down but you refused.

So instead he tried to guide you to your seat and you stepped away from him in response, the further you took a step back the closer he took a step forward. It wasn’t until you hit the snack cart had you realized how close the two of you were.

However that was short lived as the dish holding the sugar fell off the cart and shattered on the floor the moment you hit it.

Your eyes went wide in horror and you fell to the floor to clean it up in an instant, muttering to yourself silently.

“MC, are you-“

“I’m so sorry, Lord Diavolo, I'll clean this up right away. Please forgive me” you said swiftly picking up the shattered glass and trying your best to clean everything.

“It’s okay, don’t worry it was an accident” Diavolo said as he got up to make sure you were okay.

You shook your head as you went back to cleaning. You were positive Barbatos was going to kill you, he made sure to let you know if you ever messed up in Lord Diavolo’s presence.

So when his figure loomed over you your body tensed with fear as you looked up at him. However his expression didn’t match what you assumed it would’ve been.

He looked concerned and bent down to inspect your hands, hoping there wasn’t any blood due to the shards of glass from the dish.

You immediately retracted your hand when you noticed a cut and Barbatos stiffened.

“I’ll clean this up right away, excuse me” you said as you jumped to your feet and ran out of the council room, leaving three very confused and concerned demons behind.

As the door flew open when you left Solomon walked in with a bewildered look as you rushed out. “What happened? Is everything okay?” He asked as his eyes followed your figure rushing down the hall.

“It’s MC,” Lucifer sighed.

“What about them?” Solomon questioned.

“Long story short they were helping Barbatos and dropped the sugar then bolted out of the room in a panic when Barbatos grabbed their hand to see if they were okay.” Diavolo said with a sigh.

“Ah, that explains things then.” Solomon nodded. “And Barbatos I would refrain from touching or even being near MC for the time being”

“And why is that?” Barbatos questioned with a frown.

“Because MC is probably still on edge after serving alongside you in the past. Let’s just say your methods weren’t exactly…ideal, for a human.” He sighed.

His heart broke upon hearing those words. Barbatos frowned upon learning he was the reason for their rigid behavior and unwillingness to open up to him or Lord Diavolo again.

“I understand,” he sighed.

“If we just talk to MC I’m sure they’ll understand-“ Diavolo started.

“You can, but they haven’t changed their behavior with the brothers so I doubt they change it now. I’ll talk to them when I see them again” Solomon sighed.

Lucifer made a sour expression upon hearing Solomon’s words, mainly because he knew they were true. After all he had spoken to MC countless times yet nothing has changed.

Solomon handed a few papers to Diavolo who read over them in surprise. “Cocytus Hall? That place hasn’t been used in ages, and you wish to move in there?”

“Yes, well Mc and I.” He nodded. “All the paperwork should be there if you’ll allow it”

Lucifer shot the sorcerer a glare and shook his head. “Is that really necessary? That’s quite the opposite of having MC adapt back to the present”

“On the contrary I didn’t suggest this. They did, and if it's what they want I don’t mind indulging my sweet apprentice” He smiled.

The three frowned at Solomon’s words. No matter how annoyed he made them, they all agreed that he was the only one you talked to like normal.

It wasn’t fair that he was the only one that got that attention from you. After a few more minutes of going back and forth Diavolo finally approved the idea, much to Lucifer’s protests.

It was just a thought but Diavolo hoped that if he did this you would eventually come back to them, and not the you that was terrified and uptight, he missed the carefree human who could brighten up the room.

With a sigh the room fell silent as Solomon left, all three demons were running out of ideas and the longer you avoided them the more painful it had become.

How long were they supposed to stay like this? They all wondered with tense sighs.

#obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me #omswd #omnb #obey me nightbringer angst #obey me angst #obey me barbatos #demon brothers #obey me luficer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me solomon

966 notes · View notes

incorrect-nevermore · 3 months

Text

EVERYONE SAY THANK TO @conscience-grim FOR SHARING THIS ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL INFORMATION WITH US

Montersor very likely died and lived around the same time as Lenore, late 1800’s to early 1900’s, and during this time. Pretty boy was slang for a gay prostitute in southern America and north UK.

Montresor, is literally calling Prospero a gay whore in the scene.

This also makes the head canon of Annabel calling Lenore “pretty boy” SOOOOOOO much funnier, because Lenore likely knows what it means and Annabel doesn’t because she is aggressively, southern English, so she would use it in the same way that we use it today literally just calling someone a pretty boy. LENORE HOWEVER.

Annabel, lovingly stroking her fingers through Lenore‘s hair while she lays her head in her lap: Oh, look at my pretty boy <3

Lenore, flustered, abruptly raising her head: EXCUSE ME- HEY! IM- I AM NOT-…..

Annabel, oblivious, thinking Lenore is just being bashful: Oh! But are, pet! You are so pretty and your mine, therefore, you’re my pretty boy!

Lenore, fully thinking Annabel’s calling her her bitch:

I want everyone to imagine Annabel saying this, while they are still alive at a party or something. The whole room stops and turns to see the most fashionable power couple that high society has seen in decades. Everyone is falling over this new, mysterious, dashing rogue like character, Leo vadernacht, nephew, and now air of the entire Vandernacht railway empire, newly engaged to the most, sought after bachelorette in the entirety of English and American high society, the most Lady like and proper Annabel Lee Whitlock. And she proceeds to turn to her fiancé and call him her gay whore lovingly. IMAGINE THE REACTION

And to add onto this, Montersor isn’t a cowboy. He’s heavily implied to be a horse breaker, which is basically a priest, who also doubles as a horse tamer, and only in the UK was this term known as slang, for once again, a gay prostitute.

So I want you to imagine Monty casuallymentioning he was a horse breaker while he was alive and Annabel FULLY TURING TO HIM LIKE

“🤨🏳️‍🌈⁉️”

SHE MUST BE SOOO CONFUSED WHY ADA’S STILL DATING HIM

Annabel: I went through so much trouble to make sure no one figured out that me and Lenore were gay, just for this bitch to come out and fully admit he’s a gay whore with little to no consequence.

#nevermore webtoon #lenore nevermore #annabel lee nevermore #incorrect nevermore quotes #incorrect quotes #annabel lee x lenore #white raven #prospero nevermore #montresor nevermore

792 notes · View notes

tropes-and-tales · 3 months

Text

Not Real Just Yet

Day 14: Breeding Kink (Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!)

CW: Breeding kink; the appearance of dub-con but with clear consent discussed; smut (PiV, unprotected); 18+ only. Again, this is a breeding KINK with an element of dub-con (but consensual), so if that isn't your thing, pass on this one.

Word Count: 1513

AN: This was requested by an anonymous person! It was also not edited in any way!

It’s not real.

It’s not real just yet because Bob is active duty, often deployed for long stretches.

It’s not real just yet because you’re in a PhD program that requires long, long hours: as you TA for undergrad classes, as you pore over old archived papers buried in colleges across the U.S., as you spend late nights on your thesis.

It’s not real just yet because you and Bob are sometimes just ships passing in the night, and you both hate it, but you’re both committed to each other and see this current pain as paying off in the near future.

It’s not real just yet because Bob, modern though he is, has old-fashioned ideas. He wants to put a ring on your finger first, wants to carry you over the threshold of a shared home, wants to settle into a nice stretch of married life as a couple before adding to your family.

It’s not real just yet. It’s just a fun way of playing around in the bedroom, and it’s more about the power dynamics of the breeding kink. You have an implant, so the risk is minimal, but it’s still fun to pretend.

Bob, the back seater who often feels powerless: he gets to take the dominant role.

You, the harried student who often feels like there’s too much piled on your shoulders: you get to take the submissive role.

-----

It’s not real just yet, but it sure as hell feels real. Bob is finally home from a tour around the South Pacific, and you’ve finally turned in pages to your thesis advisor. You each have the luxury of time, for once, and you turn your respective life frustrations on each other in the best possible way.

It’s easy to forget it’s not real when Bob slides inside you, the wet silky heat of your pussy and not a single barrier to stop him from feeling every sensation. The delicious slickness of your arousal, the molten warmth, the way you bear down when he’s buried in you and whispers in your ear. He whispers the filthiest things he’s ever said in bed with anyone, and sometimes he’s embarrassed in the morning when he remembers it, but the embarrassment never lingers—because he loves you, because he feels safe to explore this side of himself with you.

I’m gonna breed you, sweetheart.

Just take it. Good girl, take it.

Gonna look so good, full of my baby.

Gonna make you a mommy.

Take all of it.

Taking me so good. Can’t wait to see your belly all round with our baby.

Just lie back and take it like a good girl.

He fucks you slowly, deep, purposeful thrusts that he punctuates with his dirty talk. He knows it’s not real, but it’s so easy to fall into the fantasy, especially when you whimper at his words, when you cling to his shoulders and whine out your answering script.

Wait, Bobby…wait…

Maybe we shouldn’t…

It’s all a game, of course. It toes the line of dubious consent but Bob knows it’s all consensual because you never utter the safe word and neither does he. And sometimes he thinks maybe it’s sick, maybe it’s twisted, and maybe no one else would understand it, but when he voices those concerns to you, you always allay them. You always cup his face and tell him that what the two of you do in the privacy of your bedroom is your business and no one else’s.

“Besides,” you told him once. “You have no idea what your pals in Top Gun are into when it comes to kinks. I bet Bagman is a foot fetish weirdo.”

So he pushes those doubts aside because fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing he’s done, exploring all the weird and surprising twists within his own sexuality and yours.

Your first orgasm is always the strongest—maybe because you pretend to fight it, pretend you don’t want this. Bob notices all of your little tells: the way your fingertips dig into the blades of his shoulders until he knows he’ll have dusty little bruises there in the morning. The way your arousal absolutely soaks his pistoning cock, soaks the thatch of rough curls at the base of him. The way you whine out no, please, as if your body is betraying you, and isn’t that part of the fantasy too: that he fucks you so well that you can’t fight off the orgasm he works from you?

“Good girl,” he whispers against your temple. “Good girl, coming for me.” He slows his thrusting, savors the spasms of your aftershocks, allows you to recover.

“Please Bobby,” you breathe out. “It’s too risky—”

He closes his eyes and kisses your temple, feels the sweat making your hair damp. “You think too much,” he murmurs. He shifts his head, nips at your earlobe before he whispers in your ear, “just take it like a good girl.”

“Bobby—”

“You’re going to look so fucking hot, swollen with my baby.” He says that staring into your eyes, which are wide in mock-fear, part of the game, but he can see how wide your pupils are too, your eyes damned near black, and it’s a reassuring reminder that yes, you are into this game too, you’re enjoying it as much as him. And sure enough, there’s the answering clench in your pussy, the way you unconsciously bear down on him as he starts to resume his slow, firm rhythm of fucking you.

And now that you’ve come once, he takes it up a notch, ratchets the moment higher. He gets an arm under your knee and hoists your leg up and out, spreads you out more for him to bury himself in you. It grants him that extra bit of depth into your pussy, and each time he hilts his cock in you, it draws out a low groan from you, a throaty growl that makes the coil of tension in his gut tighten.

Here is usually where the game falters just a bit. Bob’s never had this with any other girlfriend before; sex was always a fraught, anxious thing for him. He always worried about his performance in bed. Most of his girlfriends before you usually laid in bed like a starfish, limp and unresponsive, and it took Bob a long time to realize that it was them, not him, that was the problem.

But sex with you is always good. Sometimes fun and playful, sometimes intimate and soulful. Sometimes, like now, it’s both of you working through your own personal demons—him and his feelings of inadequacy, you and your feelings of overwhelm—but doing it together. Exploring shadowy sides of yourselves in a perfectly safe, perfectly loving way.

How could he not want to put that ring on your finger, carry you over that threshold? Bob could travel the world for the rest of his life and never find anyone half as suited to him as you.

And now, your second orgasm approaches. Now your hands shift from clutching at his shoulders. Your palms lay flat on his chest and you push lightly against him, the climax of your game timed to the climax you’ll share with him.

“Bobby, please,” you pant out. “It’s not s-safe. Pull…pull out—”

But he doesn’t because it’s part of the game, and a beat later, when you arch underneath him, when your eyes flutter shut and you wail out his name, he pushes into you and stills. He feels his own tension snap, and he comes with a pained fuck, baby, take it, and it’s absolutely perfect: the way your pussy ripples against his cock, how it pulls the thick ropes of his cum deeper into the confines of your body.

Here is where the game falls apart. Or, rather, it ends. Sex is a release for both of you, but since you are generally more stressed and wound-up than Bob, you have the habit of giggling directly afterwards. Which might make a lesser man wither, but the tic charms Bob, and now he chuckles along with you.

“Oof,” you breathe out once the laughing passes. You wrap an arm around his neck and pull him down to you. “That was great.”

Bob is still half hard, so he shifts his weight carefully to avoid slipping out of you. He leans his weight on one forearm and gazes down at you with a smile. He brushes gentle kisses across your warm face. “I missed you.”

You smile up at him. “I missed you too. I’m glad you’re home.”

Home. Right now, it’s just a crummy little apartment near campus, but as Bob settles closer to you, he can already picture the future with you: a better apartment or maybe even a house somewhere. You with your PhD, him with his military career. Each of you with rings on your fingers, vows made and received, maybe a dog adopted from a shelter.

And maybe, after that, you can play at your mutual kink for real.

#bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #top gun maverick #kinktober 2023 #tropes and tales

413 notes · View notes

yooniesim · 5 months

Text

Small Simblr Saturday Appreciation Post 💜

Hey y'all! Since @tau1tvec came up with the idea for this event, I thought I'd shout out some of my personal favorite always free creators :)

To start it off though, you know I gotta recommend @alwaysfreecc, the finds blog currently managed by myself, @superflare, @nicatnite88, and @toastie-sim! We only reblog cc creators that are always free (no exclusive or early access) and use the tag #alwaysfreecc to find your posts! If you're an always free cc creator, please use the tag and/or mention the finds blog so we can get your catalog reblogged there 😌 now, onto the list~!

@xiuminuwu - a creator I've really been loving lately! they have a variety of cute cc, including poses and unique, fashionable clothing~

@hexcodesims - a very underrated creator with tons of clothing edits for masc frame sims, I also love their big bud press palette~

@herecirmsims - makes amaaaazing unique poses for a variety of situations

@adelarsims - has awesome ideas that you wouldn't think of, amazing variety of cc like hello

@janjumjam - adorable cc for kids, gives me happy feels and nostalgia

@ceeproductions - some of my fav cc on this site, great variety for both masc and fem frame

@powluna - super cute items for kiddos... a staple in the mods folder

@ssspringroll - occult cc for daysss, cool sliders and presets, they got it all

@nicatnite88 - yes I'm biased, but the variety and hustle cannot be denied, just look at the amount of cc!

@bobnewbie - hairs, facial hairs, accessories, gorgeous sims... what else could you want?

@darlyssims - UNIQUE. really cool ideas for hairs, accessories, and more

@cliffirem - clothes and hairs with an alt twist i really enjoy

@sammi-xox - beautiful skinblends and super useful skin details

@warwickroyals - gorgeous formalwear, especially good for all you royal simblrs!

@marsosims - cute cute cute all over... hairs, clothes, even build/buy cc!! we stan

@whyhellosims - lots of stuff for kids, build buy cc, and a slant of humor!

@creamlattedream - masc cc staple in this house, lots of cute recolors and casual wear

@pluto-sims - the cutest patterns EVER, adorable kids clothing, posters and walls~

@deathpoke1qa - unique is my word for the day bc my lord... it's popping off! alt staples you can't miss

@icchixxxxxx1 - hairs hairs hairs... and more cute hairs! if you like the cutesy anime look but still mm, go here

@mellosakicc - so. many. t-shirts. but also other clothing, tats, and hairs! another alt cc maker with work ethic for days

@whirliko - cute bright recolors... we have no choice but to stan the pop of color

@shandir - conversions, historical, occult, variety... hello??? get going

@mangosimoothie - the ideas are popping... once again things that would never pop into my brain but are brilliant... just go look and see what I mean

@igorstory - facial hair... a totally unrepresented niche of sims cc.. I have all their stuff... download it

@madameriasims4 - CLASSICS. STAPLES. I use their clothes all the time and they also got build/buy stuff.

@aniraklova - alt & punk vibes to the tippy top, fallout, chains, mohawks, whats not to love??

@pixelunivairse - ONE OF MY FAVS. use their cc constantly for my fem frame sims. uses tons of cute patterns that I love

@demondare-sims - cas cc i love, I use it pretty much every time I play, mm and practical

@fiftymilehighclub - talking about work ethic, it's here... so many recolors in bomb palettes that you'll never download them all... or can you??? try

@sforzcc - retired from cc making, but I gotta recommend, bc I use their wardrobe sooo much... brilliant

@casteru/@woosteru - also retired, but same as #16, I use their cc every day!

@xldkx-cc - am I just listing staples of my mods folder now? yes!! I am not biased!! go and get all that cas cc and poses and deco sims NOW!!

@a-luckyday - if you don't know ms a luckyday poses u have not lived in life!! they have a huge amount of them, solo, couple, group, accessories, and more

@gothoffspring - really cute and vibey recolors, I use them a lot, also some build buy items too!!

@jellymoo - we love the clothing... mm aesthetic to the core and cute af

@gladlypants - lotsa adorable items I adore, variety of patterns too

@birksche - tons, I mean TONS of hairs bro, years worth, always free... a treasure trove

@teekalu - supreme maxis match, vanilla vibes that are so lovely... ideal for low cc players

@honeyssims4 - poses, honey!!! the variety will shock you. and they ALL look good

@sewerwolfx - really cool stuff with alt style, some recolors and some from SCRATCH, we love to see it

@historysims4 - historical cc from many different eras!! iconic

@hamsterbellbelle - some of the most unique scifi cc i ever seen... idk how they even make some of that stuff! must see

@surely-sims - beautiful legendary amazing gorgeous never been done before... their fallout inspired cc made me weep and almost solely furnished one of my households, work

...annnndddd I hit my limit!!! I guess thats it for now but maybe a part two... 😉

#ceci speaks #text #smallsimblrsaturday #alwaysfreecc #i tried to put a lot of ppl i havent seen mentioned as much #but theres still so many to love #can u tell my mental state deteriorating as the post went on #it is currently 6 am i am going to bed #hopefully this is coherent when it posts from the queue LOL #alwaysfreecc creator boost

406 notes · View notes

non-stop-imagines · 6 months

Text

Mírame

From this request!💖 And a little help from this too 😚

Word Count: ~10.1k words w/ smau

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. x Black Rapper!Reader ( JT face claim)

Warning: Smut, p in v, fingering, forced eye contact, a little bit of an innocence kink made its way in there, Twitter Environment, rude comments, mention of food Minors DNI!!! 18+

A/N: AH HA! ITS DONE AND IM SO HAPPY! I have said this so many times and I mean it everytime, thank you, thank you, thank you so much to my 🌶️ anon. For trusting me with this request, for checking in on me, and most of all for being so patient. I hope you are doing well and I hope you enjoy this. 💖 I hope you all enjoy this. I am trying to work my way to reopening my requests because I truly find pure joy in reading the ideas that you guys have. Love you all!!💖💛💖💛💖

A/N 2: All of the pictures used for the smau portions are all from pinterest and are not my own product.

Masterlist

___________

You and Carlos stroll back over to his car, parked a block away from the park that Carlos took you to, Jardins Saint-Martin, just on the outskirts of Monaco. Since Carlos decided to ask you on this date at the last minute (it was about 11:00pm on Saturday, Monaco grand prix weekend), it was either this or his boat that probably was surrounded by fans in some fashion. Taking you to this park, and finding a place still open to buy ice cream before coming here, was Carlos' best shot at being alone with you.

"Sorry the date seemed so…basic. I wish I could've taken you somewhere fancier, but I was so nervous about asking you on a date that I didn't do it until late." He's been wanting to do this since he met you at the Miami Grand Prix. When he first saw you peeking into the Ferrari garage as a celebrity guest at the race, he had never plotted so quickly to get someone's number. You were…different. In a good way. You were dressed sexy yet classy, obviously comfortable in your own skin, and you weren't afraid to be expressive when talking with anyone. Heck, when you first talked to him, he could tell you were nervous, but it still did little to dull the fire in your conversation.

"So, this is yours, huh?" Carlos had led you into the open garage while everyone else focused on a different celebrity that had made their way over.

"Sí. Not what you expected, huh?" He smiles and watches you closely observe the race car, your eyes tracing its curves while Carlos' traced yours.

"To be honest, I don't know what I expected. I mean it tried to learn as much as I could about the sport once I learned I was invited, but I didn't really focus on the cars. Mainly teams, drivers, less technical stuff." You were rambling. You knew you were rambling, it always happened when you were around someone you found attractive. "But I do know that this does not look like any Ferrari I've seen." Mental facepalm. Of course not, it's a goddamn race car. You could feel your chest squeezing, scared that your awkward remark wouldn't elicit a response from the driver, but instead the faint sound of an exhaled chuckle shocks you.

"I know. It's smaller. And seems a bit less safe, but what do I know?" Your tension melts a bit as Carlos makes a joke just as terrible as yours. You continue observing the car, walking around and tilting your head, hair falling gently around your face.

"Sorry, I'm being so quiet. I just think it's so cool seeing one of these up close." You saunter back over to Carlos, eyes still on the car, not to observe it, but for the purpose of avoiding the intense eye contact that he was trying to initiate, mentally urging you to look at him.

"So, uh, you make music, no?" This gets you looking at him for a moment, only to answer the vague question.

"Uh, yeah. I'm a rapper. You probably haven't listened to my stuff, though. Probably not your speed." You flash a small smile then look away again, observing the car one last time before turning your attention to the rest of the garage. Little did you know, that smile knocked Carlos off his feet, and he wanted it to happen again.

"Maybe I have, maybe I haven't, but I would like to. Here." This brought your attention to his face then his phone that was unlocked and open for you to go to your music. "You can just add yourself."

"You know you could've done this yourself…" You smile to yourself as you search your name.

"I know, but now you can put your number in, too." You stopped what you were doing to look up at him, squinting and grinning.

"Ah, smooth. I see where the nickname comes from." You chuckle and go to do as told, adding your number to his contacts.

"Thank you. I'm glad you said it because if I said it, it would have been too cheesy." He exhales a laugh, searching your face for amusement, which he finds once you go to hand his phone back.

"You know, I would've given you my number if you just asked." You didn't know what to do with your hands. If you were bold, you would have allowed your hand to run along his toned arm, but you settled on just letting your hands be expressive as you spoke, lazily pointing an acrylic clad finger.

"Maybe, but this is more fun." Carlos smiled, a smile that accentuated his bottom lip, making you instinctively and stealthily dart your tongue out onto yours.

After the brief moment of the poorest example of attraction projecting body language imaginable, it was soon time for you to continue on to God knows where because you weren't paying attention before, and for Carlos to start Friday practice prep, even though he definitely wouldn't be paying attention. He would be thinking about how he was going to text you, call you, something.

It took him 3 days to text "Hi" and you 5 seconds to respond

Okay, so fire was an exaggeration, but you didn't know any better.

"I thought the date was nice!" You hesitantly reach out for his hand. The motion was initially instinctive, your hand acting on its own, and once you realized what you were doing, you began to pull back, but it was stopped and encased by Carlos' before it was fully retracted, and he continued the conversation like nothing happened.

"No, no. It could have been nicer. I just didn't give myself enough time." Your heart was racing, and this was when you realized you were still looking at entwined hands and not the man speaking to you, so you quickly refocused yourself.

"Really, I wouldn't know the difference anyway, I have nothing to compare it to." Carlos tilts his head quizzically at your implication so you continue to explain, chuckling. "I've never been on a date before."

"Wait, no? Haven't you had a boyfriend or something?" His thumb starts to move over your fingers and your brain short circuits, your eyes cutting back to your hand.

"Uh, no. No, I haven't. So I definitely don't know what I'm doing and I wouldn't know better as to whether or not this was the worst date a person could've ever had." You finally got your brain to work again and smiled nervously as you spoke, watching a look of disdain settle into Carlos' face.

"Well, I wouldn't say all of that, but…wow, I can not believe you've never had a boyfriend." You were greatly enjoying Carlos' shock, but you go on to explain a little.

"I've been focusing on my music career since I was 16, so someone would literally have had to hold a sign up in my face and shout that they like me for me to even consider the possibility of them wanting to go on a date with me." You giggle nervously, the disdain on his face shifting to curiosity as his eyes traced every part of your face over and over again.

"So would that be necessary now?" A grin tugs at the right side of his mouth and it seems like he keeps having to pull his eyes from your lips.

"No, that won't be necessary. Just a simple 'I like you' would be fine." Your laugh was looser this time, and you finally let loose a full smile, displaying shallow dimples and accentuating your lips. Carlos looked at you like a shooting star that had just whizzed by, disappearing into the horizon all mysterious and sparkly.

"Well, I like you, a lot. And I want to take you on more dates, and be whatever other first I can be for you." His grin slowly fades but it doesn't take away the sincerity in his eyes and his words, now unabashedly staring at your lips.

"Oh. Well i- I've, um, never, uh, kissed anyone before." There was obvious hesitation in your statement, knowing it was a bold move for you, slightly surprised at the smile that landed on Carlos' lips.

"I am so glad you said that." You knew what was coming, especially once you felt him pull you closer with your hand, beginning to lean in, but for some reason you failed to take any steps to reciprocate the action, eyes wide open, watching him lean in for the kiss but stop centimeters away. "It's better if you close your eyes, I promise." Carlos chuckles at the shocked face you looked at him with, his eyes still trained on your plump parted lips.

"Yeah, I know. I don't know why I didn't…let's-uh-try again." You pinched the bridge of your nose in embarrassment, resetting your brain to try the moment again. Eventually you gaze back up at him, first taking a moment to admire the man in front of you, failing at hiding a laughing grin while you got lost in his eyes.

Carlos, on the other hand, his mind was going berserk. The eyes you looked at him with were so innocent and trusting, even further indicated by how you, unprompted, fluttered your eyes closed prepared to try your first over kiss again. He had to indulge his own self for a moment, testing the waters to see if he could prove his theory, even the slightest bit, so he unnecessarily lifts your chin and tilts your head to your right, each move smooth and gentle, and with both moves you allowed yourself to follow the modification unhesitatingly, keeping your eyes closed. "Perfect." He finally leans down to kiss you, first just the soft press of each other's lips, you getting used to the foreign, intimate feeling, but after that moment Carlos slots his lips between yours and you try your best to keep up, mimicking his lip movements to the best of your ability. Carlos was considerate of the situation though and held off on the tongue, instead opting for manually lifting and wrapping your arms around his neck and then circling his own around your waist to make the kiss deeper. Your lips were glossy and pupils were dilated upon pulling away from the kiss, chest heaving with slow deep inhales.

"How was that?" The look you gave him seeked approval, or at least constructive criticism, on your kissing ability. Carlos just like that his opinion mattered so much to you.

"I feel like I should be asking you that, no?" He keeps a tight grip on you with one hand as he uses the other to gently rake through your hair, fingers going just deep enough to manipulate the top layer.

"Oh, well you've done this before. I'm the one that needs pointers." You move your arms to wrap them around Carlos' torso, giving your shoulders a rest

"You need no pointers." He leans down to give you another lip slotted kiss.

"Oh, thank you. I-uh- you're not too bad yourself." Carlos just chuckles at your awkward comment and leans in for more kisses, testing the waters more and more to see how deep he could make them, how much more tongue you would allow, and smiling at how you didn't know what to do with the small introduction to the appendage. It was you who had to break up the moment, wedging your arms between you two. "Don't you have a curfew or something? The race is tomorrow right?"

Carlos wasn't going to lie, he completely forgot it was a race weekend. He was so enamored by you just being here, how when you were with him you exuded a, now more understood, innocence that is hidden behind the nature of your fame. "Not if I pretend I don't." He shines a devious grin at you, and you have to reboot your brain to remember what you were going to say.

“No, I’m not gonna be the reason you break curfew or whatever.” You try and wave away his eyes that were trained on your face, but his lips approaching your neck, and the reflexive tilt of your head to give him more surface area, shut you right up.

“Fine, I guess you’re right." He says with his lips brushing deliciously against your ear, then pulls his face away and extends his arm past its previous home if your waist to open the car door for you. He has to move his face into your line of sight, which was off in the distance just past his left shoulder as you contemplated your situation, and use his eyes to motion you into the car.

"Thank you again, for tonight. I had a nice time." You spoke as you buckled your seatbelt, realizing that was something you did often when you were able to, occupying yourself with something else to avoid having to look Carlos in the eye. He wasn't going to stand for that though, so once he was in and the car was started, he turned his body to you and tilted your chin up so you would look at him.

"That's good to hear." He brings you forward for a kiss, again testing your response to the addition of his tongue to the equation, liking the effort that you put into following his lead. He didn't worry, though. He knew he had time with you. "When you get to the paddock tomorrow, go to the Ferrari building. I'll make sure they have a garage pass for you." You just nod, eyes dazed and trained on his lips before flicking up to his own deep brown irises, and he couldn't help leaning in for another brief make out session. After kissing you the first time, your first time, he became immediately obsessed with it, trying to teach you and get you to follow his lead each time, and loving that you were a fast learner.

After some driving, more kissing, and stealthily making it back to the hotel room, "Good nights" and confirmation for tomorrow's plans were made and, eventually (because Carlos wouldn't leave unless you looked at him while talking to him) you both were in your assigned rooms, wondering what would come of that night.

yn_music

Liked by carlossainz55 and 351,079 others

yn_music Red on me like Ferrari 💋🌶️🏎️

View all 539 comments

user1 New music soon? 👀♥️

>yn_music We workin, don't you worry boo💋

>user1 I literally screamed and threw my phone

>yn_music Hope your phone's okay 😬

normani It's giving 90s dream girl 📷♥️

>yn_music 💋

user2 Uhhhh, Carlos, whatchu doin here blud?

>user3 Apparently they seemed pretty close during the Miami GP

>user2 She was at the Miami GP!?!?

>user3 Yeah! And there were seen in the garage Thursday talking and possibly exchanging numbers 😶

>user2 This is the best possible wag announcement I've ever experienced

user4 I refuse to believe that Carlos Sainz is seeing someone that makes music like hers 🤷🏽‍♀️

>user2 why are you even here

"I'm sorry. Can you just explain to me one more time why you stopped me?" You let your fingers just barely run through the top of your hair, taking a deep breath and glaring at the man standing in front of you.

"We have received a couple of complaints regarding your attire and so we have to ask you to cover up." The man in the bright yellow security jacket looked just as done as you did, but you didn't care.

"Okay, I'm not trying to be difficult or anything, but I have seen outfits much worse than mine and yet I'm the one that gets stopped? I just don't…" Your response may have been directed to the security guard, but it was more for your own sanity trying to keep yourself calm. "Respirar" You repeat the Spanish word taught to you by Carlos for whenever you felt anxious or overwhelmed, inhaling as you say it and then releasing a long exhale. "Let me just-Do you think we could go over to the Ferrari motorhome? Carlos was the one who invited me and maybe he would be able to help…”

“Ma’am, please. We don’t need to get anyone else involved. Just cover up or else I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The guy reaches out to guide you by your arm but you pull back from his reach, taking a singular step back.

"First of all, do not touch me. I did not give you permission to touch me. Secondly, I am not going to cover up because there is nothing wrong with my outfit, and it is entirely too hot to do so. Please can we just-I texted him, hopefully he's by-oh!" You felt a hand touch your lower back ever so lightly, making you jump and a flash of anger come over you very briefly before looking to your right and seeing Carlos flash a grin at you. The more severe part of your frustration melted away with the presence of the man beside you, softening your demeanor and allowing him to press a kiss to the top of your head and subsequently fix any bit of hair that came out of place due to the action.

“Hello.” He still had that grin on, but you could tell it got brighter the longer he looked at you, the more his eyes wandered around your appearance.

“Hi.” All you could muster was a tired grin to reciprocate, drained from the previous encounter, which made Carlos even more adamant to squash whatever problem you frenziedly and vaguely texted him about. So, after protectively wrapping his arm around your waist, he turns to the man that was previously hounding you about your outfit.

“So, what’s the problem?” The glare Carlos gave the man could have set the guy’s hair on fire if Carlos willed it. He was messing with his girl, and he wasn’t going to stand for it.

“Oh, s-she is a guest of yours…” The man started fidgeting with his jacket, pulling at the bottom hem and scrunching up the sleeves before finally just settling on crossing his arms.

“Yes. My girlfriend if you want to be specific. So, what is the problem you are having with my girlfriend?” Silence. That is all that followed the question, and it caused the world to just fade away, leaving just you three. Carlos, silent and waiting for an answer. The man, silent and feeling like an ass as he racked his brain for a way to talk himself out of the situation. You , silent and waiting for something to unfold, and then finally registering Carlos’ words but too nervous to say anything. When enough time passed to irritate him, Carlos turned to you for an answer. “What happened?”

“Um, uh..” Your first instinct was to look away, anything for you to not have to endure the intenseness of Carlos’ frustrated stare. You click your long, decorated nails together, trying to find your words again, surprised by the gentle finger that guides your eyes to his.

“Mírame. You can tell me.” His glare softened when he turned to you, willing you with his eyes to speak and trying to telepathically convey that it was a safe space to tell him the full story.

“He told me that there have been people complaining about my outfit and that I can either cover up or leave.” Even though it was hard to initiate eye contact with Carlos, maintaining it was a piece of cake. Getting lost in the dark irises of a gaze that could go from playfully wide to sultry squint was effortless for you, and you eyes seemed to follow the motion of his as he checked out your entire outfit, oversized and low buttoned white dress shirt and blue jean mini skirt down to the gold accented thigh high boots, a sexy elegant look which was one of the many looks he loved to see on you, and definitely did not see a problem with.

“You must not have been doing this for long because I have seen much worse outfits walking through the paddock.” His hand slid from your waist to your hand as he mildly pointed a finger at the man before turning to you. “You look great today, by the way.” Since a true response would make you dip into having to initiate eye contact again, all you could do was bashfully grin at the ground. “Now, we have somewhere to be, and I think you should go take a break, and just not come back, so you don’t disturb anyone else, okay?” He checks to ensure he had a firm grip on your hand before hastily walking away toward the Ferrari motorhome, but when you guys get close instead of going to the building you two turn toward the garage entrance, stopping along the wall just as you turn down the long walkway. It was only at that moment that you realized Carlos was dressed in his race attire, only haphazardly with the suit pulled up onto his shoulders but mostly unzipped, and your eyes couldn’t help but follow his hands as the quickly performed that task. “That was stupid, I don’t know why…” He mumbled that to himself as he finished strapping himself into his race suit. “I’m sorry about that girlfriend thing. I-”

“Don't be sorry.” You answered quickly and made sure your eyes met his. When Carlos said that in his haste to defend you, sure you heard an inflected emphasis on the word "girlfriend", that was a pleasant pillow that you were able to rest on while he handled the situation.

“What, you want to be my girlfriend?” His smirk acted as your reminder that you were holding eye contact, making you want to shrink back down in embarrassment, but you didn’t allow yourself to, and you knew Carlos wouldn’t allow it either.

“If you don’t mind being my first boyfriend.” You shrug timidly, and smile just as wide as Carlos does after your answer. You could tell Carlos was racking his brain for his next steps with how quick his eyes flashed over you, finally landing on your lips as his hand rested on your shoulders to pull you in for a kiss, quick but still held the happiness he wanted to convey.

“I told you I want to be all of your firsts. Even though I wanted this to be a bit more special. Flowers and everything.” He pushes your hair behind your ear and finds his eyes moving back and forth between yours again.

“Yeah, I remember.” Your eyes reluctantly peeled themselves away from his and traveled down to his race suit, pulling you back to the present as your hands act on their own to turn him toward his garage. “Go, please I’ve held you up long enough. What is this anyway? Practice?” Since landing in Britain that morning, you have been non-stop trying to get to the track, so you haven’t kept track of the schedule for the day.

“Eh, no. Qualifying.” This only made your eyes widen and caused you to put more force into pushing him into the garage.

“What the fuck!? You could’ve told me! Go, go, I probably completely ruined your concentration.” You continue to push but the action is interrupted by Carlos delicately pulling you around to his front and pulling you close to him wrapping your arms around his waist. His hands found their home on the sides of your shoulders, steadying you for another kiss, meant to calm your worries but also because he found your concern endearing.

"I'm more than prepared. Trust me. I'll see you later, cariño." He jogs off to his side of the garage, having to leave you at the entrance, but you eventually make your way in, standing behind the barrier separating the guests from the rest of the garage, pulling on headphones and waving at his cousin before finally turning your attention to the main event.

__________

"Okay, hold on one more moment, cariño. Keep your eyes closed.” You’re walked out of the bathroom that you were very quickly whisked into when you arrived at Carlos' room. Though your eyes were closed, they could still sense the soft glow of what could possibly be candle light, and the lack of sight didn't stop your nose from breathing in the fresh perfume of flowers, though you were unsure what kind. You waited patiently, jumping ever so slightly at the feeling of Carlos' hands over your closed eyes and the faint touch of his breath on the back of your neck. "Alright, open."

You open your eyes to, as you suspected, the dim, warm lights of several candles around his hotel room, a bouquet of roses on the bed that was sprinkled with rose petals. "Oh, Carlos…" You could've cried. Just a few months ago, you weren't even thinking about being in a relationship, let alone being in one with someone like Carlos, but here you are, with this man who thinks the world of you, and shows it not only in his words but in his actions.

"I wanted to get more balloons, but this is what I could get in such short notice." He had his arms wrapped around your torso and his chin rested on your shoulder as you looked at the beautifully decorated room, but you wanted to look at him instead, so you turned around in his arms to hook yours around his neck.

"You're too much." You slowly lean in for a peck, smiling with each one that follows.

"I know." You both chuckle as you go to playfully hit his chest. "You deserve this all, I hope you know that."

"I'm trying too, but still, thank you, Carlos." You go to rest your head on his chest, but you're startled by a sudden exclamation of mild disdain from him.

"Aye, Carlos is too formal." You eyebrows furrow briefly at him and shift your jaw as you think.

"Okay, so, um, what then?" Your eyes were wide and surprisingly innocent compared to the usual sultry look you had.

"Papí. I think that would have a nice ring coming from you." He couldn't help but lean in for another kiss from you. Your lips were his favorite part of you and the feeling of them on his own was his favorite feeling in the world, you embracing him second for the time being.

"Okay. Thank you, Papí." You place another peck in his waiting lips, liking how the nickname rolled off your tongue.

"You deserve it, mí amor." A kiss to your cheek begins to trail down your neck, reaching a tender spot that elicits a moan that shocks you but pleases him.

"Oh. I don't know wh-" Your automatic apology was interrupted and excited Carlos.

"Let's see if we can do that again." The kisses continued, making it the first time anyone has ever explored the erogenous points on your body.

Well, he was at least able to get around to anything above the shoulders.

yn_music

Liked by charlesleclerc and 362,870 others

yn_music 🌹🥀🌹🥀

tagged carlossainz55

View all 402 comments

carlossainz55 Amor ♥️

user5 This is the hardest soft launch I've ever seen

user6 My happiness depends on these two making it so just everyone be quiet and let them live

>landonorris I agree with them ☝🏼

kaliuchis Mamí ‼️‼️‼️🥵🥵🥵

user7 I'm gonna need pointers because I still don't know how you snatched Carlos Sainz 🧐

>yn_music Be awkward as fuck in the Ferrari garage 🧍🏿‍♀️

user8 This is not gonna last I'm calling it rn 🫥

>user9 She probably whined and cried for him to do that for her 🙄

>carlossainz55 Try again. This time pull your head out of your ass so you can think clearer

You were in the zone, posing as music played in the studio. That was truly the only way you could even begin this shoot as the only things covering your upper body were fake butterflies, but as you got well into the shoot those nerves melted away and you were just vibing to the music. After a couple more shots, the photographer called you over to take a look at what they had gotten and while you were studying each shot you received a tap on the shoulder.

"Papí!" You turn around and fling your arms around your boyfriend’s neck, his warm woodsy scent, a slightly sweet tinge at the end, swirling around your head. When you pull away, he hands you the robe that you left in the make-up area, aware of the qualm you had about being too exposed for long periods of time, and you graciously and quickly accept it before hanging your arms around his neck again while he brings you closer to him by your hips.

“Te ves hermosa, cariño. That color is perfect on you.” You looked at him with a dopey gaze, poking out your lips to accept the kiss he was leaning in for.

“Gracias, Papi.” You guys make your way toward the make up area, which in a large open area such as the studio this was taking place, is a small portion of the large room partitioned off, a clothing rack and a vanity in the vicinity. "What are you doing here?" You sit in the chair facing the vanity, your hand in the unwavering grasp of your boyfriend who walks around to stand in front of you.

"What, I can't come see my girlfriend?" His eyes wandered around your intricate makeup, while he spoke and you could feel your face heat up and your heart begin to race as he placed you under his adoring gaze.

"Well, I mean, it's just unexpected for you to be in L.A. when you're supposed to be in Singapore by tomorrow. Wouldn't this fuck up your sleep schedule?" You bring your other hand up to accompany the one already in Carlos' grasp, swinging his arm, eventually turning your attention to the group of hands.

"Eh, maybe. Maybe not. I guess we will see." He shrugs and then uses his free hand to tilt your head up. "I couldn't pass on a chance to see mi cariño."

"Oh." He removes his finger and your eyes go back to your guys' hands, to his dismay. But his ears perked when you voluntarily looked back up at him. "I am really happy to see you.”

It was simple what you said, but it was how you said it that made the moment a sticky-sweet one. “I’m happy to see you too, amor.” He bent in to press a kiss to your lips and then examined your eyes. “Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”

“Oh, no. I’m fine. They provided food." You tilt your head to the table off to the side, and Carlos' eyes are assaulted with the sight of boring looking sandwiches and various fruits and vegetables. He knew you well enough to know that you would only eat what was over there if you had to. But he was there, so you didn't have to.

"Are you sure you don't want me to get you something, mí corazon?" Corazon. The nickname that you loved and feared the most for the sheer fact it is a sign that you had to be vulnerable. If he called you by that, it meant that he could see through whatever front you were putting up and that you had no choice but to voice whatever was on your mind. A complaint, your feelings on something, an idea you have. He was there to listen, and you were trying to remember that.

"Well, um, there is this taco place, I think it’s about a block away, they have these amazing carne asada fries with queso, guacamole, pico, sour cream…” Your stomach growls at your descriptive request, and you look up innocently at your boyfriend, who grinned at you like you were a precious jewel.

“Got it. I think I saw it on my way here. Uh, what about coffee? You seem a little tired.” He reaches to your hair, a feather light touch barley even altering the already perfectly set hair.

“No, I-uh…” You stop your refusal, feeling Carlos’ intense gaze on you, just waiting for you to lie so he could say something, so you conceded and told him the truth. "Yes, a coffee would be nice." You give him a worn grin and lean into the forehead kiss that he gently guides you into by the back of your head.

"Okay, mí amor. Iced Macchiato, extra espresso shot, sweet cream cold foam…do you want extra caramel this time?" You look up and slowly nod at him, leaning in for one last peck on the lips. "Okay, I'll be back. You keep being sexy."

"I'll try." This was preceded with a girlish giggle, and you were reluctant to let go of his hand, holding on until his arm was extended to its fullest extent. "Love you."

Carlos stops in his tracks. Sure, this wasn't the first "love you" shared between you too, but he was sure this was the first time you've said it first. "I love you too, mí cariño." He backtracks to kiss you again, soft and slow, before you finally let him leave.

He came back with the food and coffee about 30 minutes later and stayed for the entire rest of the shoot, his presence a comfort you didn't know you needed until he was there. He left for the race early the next morning, even though he knew he would be arriving halfway through the media day, it was worth being with you those extra few hours.

yn_music

Liked by nickiminaj and 425,017 others

yn_music Look who decided to visit 🦋😚

No Bars out now, y'all‼️ If you haven't listened, where tf y'all been at? 🤨😒😘

tagged carlossainz55

View all 473 comments

carlossainz55 Sexy as always 🥵 Pre-race weekend time well spent cariño ♥️😘

>landonorris Why do I feel like there is some deeper meaning behind this 🤨

>yn_music Don't look to deep into it, it's not for young eyes 👶🏼

>landonorris You're literally a year older than me???

saweetie Y'all don't fuck wit her 🤞🏿💖🤞🏿💖

>yn_music ♥️

>saweetie I've got a shoot next week, you think your man can come bring me some food?

>carlossainz55 She has told me that since you and are her friends I am obligated to. Just tell me when and where 🫡

user10 A lewk❗ Ate left no crumbs❗ Slay hunty to the boots down❗Serving cunt❗

>yn_music You just using them all, huh? 😭

>user10 I just love you so much 🥲

>yn_music ♥️

user11 So we're praising her being basically nude...got it ✔️

>user10 You just wish you looked that good basically nude 💁🏾‍♀️

comment liked by carlossainz55

carmenmmundt Can't wait to see you this weekend, lovely ☺️

>yn_music I say the moment I see you we flake on our boyfriends and go get some drinks

>carmenmmundt Deal 🤝

>user12 Hmmm? You two are besties and no one decided to tell us?? Surprises around each corner this season

"Amor, can you grab the salad de la navera, por favor?" Reyes instructs as you two move around the kitchen to grab the finishing touches on the dinner that was happening out on the patio of the large Madrid home. It was only you two in the kitchen, as desired by Carlos' mom, while he, his sisters and various other family members stayed out on the patio while Carlos Sr. grilled.

"Okay, here we are." You set the bowl on the counter and then turn to lean against it as you watch her put finishing touches on various other fragrant side dishes.

"Gracias, amor." When she gets done turning off the burners of the stove and wiping her hands clean, she whirls around to look at you, a soft content grin on her face as she eyed you up and down, meeting your eyes when she's done. "You are such a lovely girl. And not just beautiful, pero tu aura, how comfortable you are with yourself and how it naturally makes other people more comfortable around you. That's a gift."

"Thank you, Miss Reyes. You don't understand how nice that is to hear. With so many people talking about my relationship with Carlos, thinking they know what's going on…it's just nice to hear. Especially from you." Your heart fluttered at the compliment. You weren't one to be phased by online comments, but there was a small morsel of your mind that was worried the comments would influence those close to Carlos, convince them that you weren't good for him, but that has been far from the case. They all loved you, and that was an understatement. His mom and sisters would always steal you away from him the moment you guys walked through the door, and his father treated you like his own.

"And Carlito, he-I have never seen him so in love with someone. When he calls me, two things he talks about, driving and you." You had to do something with your hands as you felt Reyes' adoring eyes focus hard on you, making you mildly nervous.

“I’m sure my friends would say a similar thing about me. All I do is focus on my music and talk about Carlos.” You chuckle and bring your hand to your hair to shake it out and push some of it backwards. “I always feel like a lovesick teenager when I talk about him. I get giddy about the stupidest stuff.”

“As you should, mi amor. He always talks about how proud he is of you. How you’ve allowed yourself to be vulnerable. How you've been learning to voice your needs. And, eh, this last one coming from my own hopes, but I hope he is showing you what a good relationship is supposed to be. Even if he is not your only one, I hope he is a good one.” She takes a step towards you and lays a soft hand on your cheek, and you naturally lean into the motherly touch, your lips twitching into a grin.

“He’s been a great one. He’ll be a tough act to follow, if it comes to that of course.” You two share a quiet moment after that, like a mother watching her daughter fall blissfully in love and being comforted in the fact that she is being loved back two fold.

“Bueno. Now, let’s talk about that new song of yours while we bring the rest of this food out.” She nods her head at the salad bowl and plate of rosquillas sitting on the island behind you and turns around to grab the dishes behind her and leads the way to the patio where the rest of the family was.

“Oh, that. I-” You follow quickly behind her, preparing an answer to explain the content of the song but the answer you get before you’re able to finish is one that you should’ve expected.

“I love it. It’s on my workout playlist.” She turns to the side to walk through the door to ensure that nothing hits the door frame, watching her step as she does so, and you follow her lead, dumbfounded by her confession. “You never need to worry about your music with me amor. I love everything you make because it’s you. You need to take some advice from your own song. Aye,¿cuál era la línea? Ah, ‘I’m that bitch, give a fuck who don’t like me.’” Reyes’ recitation of the lyric invites a playful, riot-like response, a jumble of "Mamí!" and "Tía!" erupting from the group on the patio.

"Thank you, Miss Reyes. I'm very happy you enjoy the song." You say this through intermittent chuckles as you walk over to the other side of the table, to where you're greeted by your boyfriend trying to take the bowl of salad and plate of dessert from you because he never lets you do any labor if you don't have to, while a similar gesture unknowingly happened in the same moment with his mom and dad. The difference in the moment is, that while Reyes allowed the gesture to happen, used to Carlos Sr.’s impromptu help, you kept the serving dishes in your grasp, telling Carlos that you had it and giving him a short kiss on the way by.

You two had an audience for that entire interaction, you walking by, Carlos' eyes watching you the entire, and the bright, eye crinkling smile he gave you once you turned to him after placing the dishes down, bringing you into his arms and giving you a deep kiss. He then plops into the chair he was previously sat in, bringing you down onto his lap, eliciting a giggle from you in the process. "So, what did you and my mom talk about in there?"

"Oh you know, the usual. Food, music…how you're absolutely obsessed with me and can't live without me." You calmly comb your fingers through his hair as you spoke, slowly getting more focused on actually fixing the tousled look of his hair, until his right index finger tilts your head down slightly so you were looking in his eyes.

"Todo es verdad, mí cariño." You lean down to receive the kiss his partially puckered lips offered, the only thing your brain could register doing is allowing your eyes to travel the hills of his face and lean your head into the light touch his fingers gave the back of your ear following his gentle modification of how your hair fell in front of your face. "Oh!" His sudden exclamation made you flinch slightly and perk you head toward him, eyes widened in surprise, silently waiting for him to continue. "Move your stuff into my room tonight, please. I do not know why you slept in a different room last night, anyway." His index finger continued to lightly scratch at the back of your ear.

"Oh, yeah. I was so tired last night after traveling, and it was, like, instinct to go to another room at your parents house because that's what I did the last time we came here. But, um, I will. I did miss you last night."

"I missed you too. You have no idea how much I missed you." His eyes traipse around your body suggestively, before silently coaxing your eyes to his. Your head follows the guide of Carlos' hand to meet his lips in a couple of light, languid kisses, that is until you hear a low grunt and turn around to see his cousin playfully rolling his eyes at the precious interaction.

"Consigue una habitación." This was whispered under Oñoro's breath, and a cheesy smile plastered its way onto his face when Carlos' hand briefly leaves your hip to swat at his cousin, a flurry of giggles coming from all parties.

"Sólo estás celoso." His arm wraps back around your waist and hand gravitates back to your hip, clasping his other hand that has now settled in the same location, hugging your body closer to him.

"No, he's just mad that I beat him at Padel last time we were here and I could probably beat his ass again." Carlos brings his head adding a curiously raised eyebrow to his amused visage. "He still doesn't understand how I did it with the long nails." You click your, now moderate length (moderate compared to the usual length you get), nails as a subconscious supplement to your coy answer, a complete contrast to the response that comes from the man seated next to you two.

"You shouldn't have even been able to hold the racquet with those things." Though loud, the tone of his answer was more comical, a chuckle laced throughout his words.

"Aye, don't be a sore loser." They childishly swat at each other for a couple of seconds before Carlos' attention abruptly moves back to you. "You move to my room tonight, bueno?"

"Bueno, papí." You press a gentle kiss to his nose and then a few slow exaggerated ones to his lips. Nothing too deep, not in the company of family, only lips were involved, but there was a conscious effort on your part to put most of your attention on his bottom lip, sucking and kissing it.

Soon it was time to eat and you had to move to your own chair, much to Carlos' dismay.

________

Three slow knocks to his bedroom door made Carlos rise from his bed and slowly stalk over and swing it open, slowly pulling your tiresome frame into his arms.

"You moved my stuff already." You mumble into his chest, the scent wafting from him swirling around you, making you realize exactly how much you missed him last night. How perfect he would have been to cuddle up next to, be wrapped in his warm embrace…

"Cariño? You there?" He makes a knocking noise while pretending to knock your head to grab your attention. You didn't realize how tired you were.

"Yeah, yeah. I, um…" Your response acted as go-ahead for Carlos to press slow kisses up your neck and behind your ear, a location that he would pepper with his lips when he wanted to mess with you, make you mewl quietly and immerse yourself fully in the sensation. He loved it, watching your face show a level of eros that would rarely reveal itself. He always wanted more, wanted to move further down your body, explore areas that are always tortuously covered in clothes, but he was adamant in not doing so until you were absolutely sure. Until you yourself initiated something.

"You must be so tired, amor. Can't think straight." He pushes his hands beneath the baggy long sleeve you wore, fingernails grazing the skin of your back, one hand leaving its post for a fleeting moment to push closed the bedroom door, your lips held captive by his.

"Mmm…no. No. I, uh, I just gotta go do something real quick. I'll be back." It took a moment for you to escape Carlos' hold, you practically wearing him like a backpack until you disappeared behind the bathroom door. He slowly saunters over to the bed, stopping momentarily when he hears you screech out "You even organized my stuff in the bathroom!"

After about 15 minutes, you emerged from the bathroom and laggardly made your way toward the bed, where Carlos was engrossed with something on his phone. That is, until he could see you approaching him in his peripheral, making him intuitively set the device down and accept you crawling into bed with him. He noted your change in attire, tight shorts and a baggy shirt, a change from the long sleeve and sweatpants you had on moments before. He also noted your hesitancy in climbing onto the bed, as if you played out an entire scenario while standing at the side before just climbing in and laying to the left of him, turning to your side to wrap your arms around his left arm and to drape a leg over his hip.

Originally, you both just layed there, intertwined, Carlos ready to go to sleep with you finally there beside him, but that when he felt soft, timid kisses being placed up his neck. He couldn't help but smile endearingly at your attempt to set a mood, working diligently to hold in a chuckle with each unsure kiss you pressed with your pillowy soft lips. It was similar to a doe taking a chance to walk up to you, one wrong move and they'll retreat for good. "Hey, hold on." He says this quietly, and he could tell from your still hooded eyes that you were only stopping to follow whatever brief instruction he had for you, but instead of instruction, he just shifts his body up the bed so he was sitting up against the headboard, taking you with him and ultimately pulling you over his body so you were sitting on his lap eye level with him. The abrupt change in position is what broke your trance and caused you to stare at him in the eyes, unsure of what to do next. "Just keep doing what you were before, cariño." You stare at him for a second longer, just until he gives you the slightest of nods, in which you reluctantly go back to placing gentle kisses along his jaw. "Get closer, amor. Why are you so far away?" He presses his hands to your lower back to bring your lower body up his legs, your core dangerously close to the bulge growing in his shorts.

There's a quiet hum from you that follows the adjustment. It basically had the same purpose as a warning alarm when starting up machinery, because after that soft hum came the unskilled movement of your hips over his, movement that surprised Carlos and cause him to bring his hands to your hips on instinct, immediately pressing you down onto his crotch and helping you with the movement. You pull away from your previous occupation of your lips to his jaw to allow your brain to comprehend the, not quite new, but definitely enhanced sensation, eyes failing to meet his and instead settling on his lips. He didn't allow that though, as one of his hands came up to grip your chin and manually place your eyes on his. "Mírame, mi cariño. I want to see how good I make you feel."

Boy did he get his wish. You did as told and held the eye contact, mouth falling open as you continued to rut your hips into his. This is all the stimulation you ever tried to get from Carlos, so he wasn't surprised to see you pupils already blow out in lust, but it was the knotting of your eyebrows that hinted that this time was different. That you wanted more and just didn't know how to ask, but Carlos was patient. But he also knew he would have to force it out of you, eventually. And so his grip on your hips got firmer and you could feel that your body had been pressed further down onto your boyfriend, creating delicious friction that was working to bring you to that high you so desperately craved. You bit down on the inside of your lip and began to move your hips faster, but the even further furrowed eyebrows caused him to put the hand breaks on your hips. You whimper in protest, only wanting to make yourself feel good as you've had time and time again, but your eyes are met with wide ones trying to asses your thoughts, trying to make you answer an unasked question. When no answer comes he is forced to verbalize it.

"Do you want more, mi cariño? You've got to use your words." You nod, voice trapped in your throat from your earlier shyness, but you somehow manage to rasp out the words you needed to.

"I need you, Papí." You buried your head into his neck as you said this, starting your hips up again but you're quickly stopped again and Carlos' fingers lace through your hair, gently tugging back, knowing the delicate handling needed by the style, so you were looking him in his eyes again.

"Eyes on me, cariño." You nod at the instruction and he releases his grip on your hair letting his hand fall to your cheek. "We'll go slow, okay?" Another nod from your lustful but slightly concerned face has Carlos guiding you into a kiss. Starting off simple, like your first kiss in the park in Monaco, lips pressing gently together. You feel Carlos actively work his lips between yours and you knew to open your mouth slightly, and follow along with the movement of his tongue. Your arms move from being wrapped around his neck to his chest, your fingers just now realizing he was shirtless and causing a stifled moan that came out more like a short, pained exhale. It was like the new level of salaciousness you were experiencing caused you to slip in and out of consciousness because it wasn't until your shirt was halfway up your raised arms that you realized Carlos was removing your shirt, exposing the red lace trimmed bra you were wearing. "Eres tan hermosa, mí cariño." He tore his eyes away from your breast to look you in your eyes, eyelids relaxed and mouth slightly agape, showing your teeth a bit when you smile at the compliment.

"Gracias, papí. It's all yours." It was Carlos' turn to break eye contact now, bring his hands to run over your breasts, his first real look at them, and boy was it a treat. This moment was fleeting, eyes returning to yours and lips crashing back into each other, going back to the sloppy work they were doing before. You pressed your body as close to his as you possibly could, hands combing their way through Carlos' thick, dark locks until you just couldn't hold off anymore. You lift your body from his laps and begin to pull at his athletic shorts, eyes focused on the obvious bulge that you were craving to see the source of.

"Wait a moment, cariño." He holds your wrists in a firm grip and silently urges you to look at him, and when you do he gives you a domestic grin. One that you reciprocate before giving him a simple kiss, going back to basics. You sit back and wait, mind finally coming back to the situation at hand, how exposed you both were, what all of it was leading to. Your instincts told you to pull away from the hands that were now wrapped around your torso to undo your bra, but your brain quickly overrode that thought, reminding you that this is the man you love who loves you twice as much and you have been wanting this for a while now. So you let it happen. Let your bra be flung off to the side and kisses be pressed into the valley between. Let his kiss swollen lips mark a slick path to your nipple, your head tipping to the side when he takes it in his mouth. Let innocent mewls drip from your mouth at the new sensation and feel your core get warm and slick in anticipation.

When Carlos had his fill of your chest for the time being, he pulled back again to look in your eyes but you could feel his hands venturing down to your shorts but not yet inside. He flicked his eyes down to his hand and then back to your face. "Is this okay?" You nod and brace yourself for the sensation, having never been touched in such a way, but when it didn't come, you put your attention back in Carlos' face, stern with an inquisitive eyebrow up. "You need to use your words, amor."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Th-that's fine." You look back down at Carlos' hand that remains still until a sudden grip on your cheeks from Carlos' other hand brings you gaze back to his, only then did his statuesque appendage dip into your shorts and lightly graze your clit, your body jolting at the feeling.

"Mírame, mi corazon. Don't look away, please. I want to see what faces you make. Faces that only I have had the opportunity to get from you, mí inocente cariño." Carlos coos before moving his hand again, rubbing a full circle on your clit this time. You let out a lewd whine and squirm your hips, feeling yourself clench around non-existent stimulation. "You want a finger, amor? Does my pretty girl want to feel Papí's fingers inside of her?" Carlos drug his middle finger along your entrance, surprised at how wet you were already, eager to know what sounds and faces you would make being fucked by his fingers, but he waited for your verbal response.

"Mmm, yes, please." You spoke with a needy whine and bucked your hips against his hand, getting sticky juices up to his wrist. He flashes an maniacal smile and pulls your face to his for a messy kiss you were very much not ready for, finding your impatience darling. He then had to stifle a cruel chuckle when you let out a shocked and slightly uncomfortable whimper when he finally does stick a finger inside of you. He removes it and goes back to rubbing your clit for a moment, giving you light kisses along your jaw.

"You okay?" There was the slightest remanence of that chuckle in his voice, but not enough for you to notice or care because you just go on to answer his question so he is able to continue.

"Your fingers are much thicker than mine." You whimper, your pouted lips the perfect target for Carlos' as he presses his finger back inside of you, dragging along your soft walls and his palm pressing against your clit as he moves his finger.

"You've been using your fingers?" He wondered if you realized what you admitted to when he inquired this, but the answer was obviously no when you go on to mindlessly answer his question.

"Mhmm. Did last night." You nod, face still being held by the large hand of your boyfriend, eyes still forced to look into his as they being to display a touch of overwhelm.

"Were you wishing they were mine?" Carlos' finger held a slow steady pace, a second one coming to join the first, adding to the already full sensation. The spongy texture of your g-spot acted as a target that he put more focus into hitting, which caused you to move your hands to grip his wrist.

"N-no, I-not your fingers. You…" You didn't want to be looking at him when you hinted to imagining him fucking you with wild abandon, but your face was still in his grasp, eyes having only the options to look him in the eyes or the mocking smile on his lips.

"You were wishing I was there to fuck you! Oh, cariño, that's cute. How about I help that wish come true, hmm?" He slips his fingers from you and removes his hand from your shorts, his index and ring finger glistening obscenely with your juices and your mind has to reboot after watching him suck said juices off said fingers. He finally removes his other hand from your face and reaches over to his night stand to reach into the drawer to grab a condom, the shiny wrapped object being held briefly between his lips so he could close the drawer again. As he went to pull down his shorts, he stopped to take a look at you vacuously watching his movements. "Here. You take them off." He takes your wrists in his hands and brings your hands to his waistband.

"Oh, okay." You accept the task with a high-pitched whisper and lightly grasp the waistband of his shorts and underwear, taking a deep breath and then slowly pulling down. You watched as the bulge at his crotch was revealed, his dick springing out, slowly falling onto his stomach, the tip glossy from precum. The crinkle and tearing open of the condom brings your eyes back to Carlos', noticing that they seemed darker and his pupils were obviously blown out.

"You know how to do this?" He hands you the condom when you begin to nod slowly, watching as your warily remove the object from its wrapping and place it on his tip, shaky hands having trouble starting to roll it over him. He brings one of his hands to wrap around yours, guiding your fingers in rolling the edge of the condom around his tip and then moving that hand to your hair when you're able to finish the task yourself, trying his best not to thrust up into your hand, which looks absolutely adorable wrapped around his dick. You make this a bit harder for him, intrusive thoughts taking over and making you start to stroke him over the condom, hand moving easily due to the lube that came on the object. Carlos had to stop you before it went too far, taking your hand and using it to guide you in flipping your positions, you now laying on your back with Carlos between your legs. He hooks his fingers to the waistband of your shorts and pulls them off with your underwear, a string of slick going with them for a second before he flings them off in the direction that your bra went earlier. Finally there you two were. Naked. Exposed. Ready to engage in the most intimate moment of your relationship to date. But Carlos had to have some fun with it. "If only all those people saw you now. Mi pequeña inocente, fucking herself with her fingers, wishing it was my dick. Maybe they'd shut up about you being dominant. You being the one 'wearing the pants'. But I'll let them believe that. As long as I get this. You waiting for me to fuck you stupid."

"Papí, please…" You whine out, reaching up to grip what you could of his hair so you could bring him down for a desperate kiss, pulling away to look at him with wide doe eyes. He takes the obvious cue and lines himself up with your core, eyeing you up and down before leaning over you, placing a hand by your head and using the other hand to toss one of your legs over his waist.

"Okay, okay amor. I'll take it slow. Just know that it'll feel…different." You nod and look down at the gap between you two, waiting for your hips to connect and for the pressure and possible pain to follow. Instead came the gentle tip of your chin upward so you were looking at Carlos. "Mírame, okay?" You nod, now slightly nervous, but another short kiss, this time given to you by Carlos before he checks again to make sure he was lined up with your entrance then pushed in, slow as humanly possible. He paused when you let out a wail that you tried and failed at stifling.

"Oh, oh. I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" Your incessant apologies are quelled by gentle kisses that trail to your lips, and a thumb coming up to your cheek to wipe a tear that you didn't know was there.

"Shh, shh cariño. It's okay. We're on the complete other side of the house. You can be as loud as you need." You nod and wipe some more tears that you were now aware of. "Are you okay? Do you want to stop?"

"No. No. I just need a moment…" You take a few breaths and try to adjust your body, trying to familiarize yourself with the pressure, trying to distract yourself from the initial feeling of being split in half that caused such a vocal reaction. He definitely felt thicker than he looked, and the visual you did get of his dick beforehand was nothing to sneeze at. But after a few more deep breaths and adjustments, you felt it was okay for him to push again, stopping intermittently when you indicated a need to stop until he bottoms out fully.

"Everything okay?" Carlos does his best at gauging where you were at, eyes flicking over your face rapidly, searching for any sign of extreme discomfort. Instead, a soft grin appears and one of your hands reaches for his face, a gesture to which he responds to by leaning down and placing two slow, tongue involved kisses.

"I love you, Papí. So much." There's a unique amount of emphasis that these words flowing from your mouth put on your lips, still swollen and parted as you gave him the "OK" to move. So, his hips hitch back, and as his dick drags deliciously against your walls as he pulls out, it's surface area touching every sensitive spot inside of you on the way out, and then they press forward again, dragging along the same spots, pressure between your hips reapplied but felt to a lesser extent, a gentle press all the way to your cervix, all for him to retract and do it all again. Your head tips down again, watching the agonizingly slow movement of Carlos' hips, watching him disappear and reappear from you, wondering how this was at all possible and how it felt so fucking good. Carlos allowed it this time. He was enjoying watching you, your face, confused and overwhelmed, because fuck, did you looked adorable on his dick.

Your arms autonomously drape over his shoulders, inadvertently bringing him down so that your foreheads were pressed together, nails just gently grazing his skin for the moment. "You're taking me so well, cariño. I could fuck you forever." Carlos was becoming more unhinged, hips starting to move ever so slightly faster, even with the tight grip your pussy had on his cock. His mind was traveling elsewhere. He loved you. He loved everything about you. This was no secret to anyone. But there was also a part of him that loved the challenge you presented. Your innocence and inexperience. Your reputation in the world that held no merit. Yeah, you were badass and didn't give a fuck about what people thought, but you weren't the unprofessional, hypersexual person people thought you were. And to be honest, he was glad that he was the only one who knew this you. The you currently bemused by the sights and feelings of having sex for the first time. "Mírame, amor, and tell me something…"

"Mhmm?" His hand was gripping your face again, guiding your gaze and starving you of the hypnotic sight of his hips crashing into yours, dick plunging in and out, the shine on the condom from your juices increasing. But instead you were subjected only to the site of dark amorous eyes peering down at you.

"Did you cum when you used your little fingers?" As he asked his question, he moved himself closer to you, changing the angle of your hips, lifting them up slightly which allowed his dick to push deeper.

"I-i don't know. I don't t-think so. I stopped when I got too sensitive." You pouted, remembering the intense feeling that you unwillingly had to ride out.

"Aw, mi pobre pequeño. Let me try. You are going to have to relax, though." In that moment, Carlos seems to change the motion of his hips, rolling them more, causing his pubic bone ever so lightly graze your clit with each thrust. You attempt to protest, worried about what would come with the unknown experience, but a strangled whine instead erupts from your chest in response to Carlos' calloused fingers starting to rub circles on your clit, using your juices as lubricant to make the action more fluid.

So, with one of Carlos' hand making its rounds on your clit and the other forcing you to look into his eyes as you make each ridiculous pleasure filled face, enjoying a bit too much the extreme reaction he has been able to elicit from you, your legs were left to wrap around his hips unattended. While it would have made sense for them to fall from his waist, they seem to actually tighten as you begin to near your climax. "Mmm…Papí…I ca-, I don't- I-" You weren't unfamiliar with what you were feeling, senses heightened, sensitivity in every nerve ending in your pussy amplified by a thousand. It was whatever came afterward that concerned you.

"Let go, cariño. It's okay. I'm here. It'll make you feel so good." So you listen to the instructions cooed down at you and let yourself fall over that pleasure threshold, allow all nerve endings reach a peak sensitivity, your body to stiffen and your back to arch. The walls of your pussy fluttered around Carlos' dick as he continued to hitch his hips into you.

"Carlos…" A whiny sob bubbles from your chest as he continues to thrust, unintentionally overstimulating you as he was too focused on how adorable you were all whiney and tired, pussy still spasming, squeezing him and producing more of it's own lubrication making the obscene sounds of him fucking you senseless louder with each thrust until he finally finishes in the condom, whispering about how in love with you he was in an intoxicating mixture of English and Spanish. Once you both came down from your highs and cleaned yourselves up to the best of your tired ability, you two fell asleep immediately, only to wake up close to noon the next day and, once you both were presentable, make your way to the kitchen greeted by the knowing look of his mom.

yn_music

Liked by theestallion and 428,748 others

yn_music ✨Do not Disturb✨

tagged carlossainz55

View all 463 comments

latto777 An icon 🌟🌟🛥️

carlossainz55 I thought we agreed the bikini photos was for me only, amor?

>yn_music Lo siento, Papí. But I looked too cute not to share ☺️😘

>carlossainz55 Fine. We have more that's just for us anyway ♥️

user13 I see so many people commenting about how they seem so happy together but does anyone else notice that they are only together on expensive looking getaways

>yn_music We were actually in Madrid to see his family, but thank you for showing such concern for my boyfriend 😚

user14 I need you two to stay together forever for my sanity, okay?

>carlossainz55 We will try 😁

>user14 Thank you 🧎🏻‍♀️

carlossainz55

Liked by landonorris and 401,803 others

carlossainz55 Mí cariño hermosa 😍

tagged yn_music

View all 539 comments

yn_music 🥰😚🥰😚🥰

>yn_music Even though you're determined to make me look like the most chaotic person on the planet

>carlossainz55 It's because I like these pictures of you (and the people deserve to know the truth 😶‍🌫️)

>carlossainz55 And not all the good pictures of you I have are appropriate 😘

landonorris Hi Mom! 👋🏻

>yn_music Boy if you don't stop calling me Mom 😤

>yn_music Jk hey baby! 👋🏿😘

user15 AHHHH! THE HEADSHOTS! THATS SO FREAKING ADORABLE

>carlossainz55 I think you'll be even happier to know that she got those taken just to give to me as a birthday present

>user15 I am 🥲

user16 It took some work and emotional damage, but I'm glad to see that Carlos and Yn are unapologetically in love 💕

#formula 1 #black reader #f1 imagines #formula 1 x black!reader #f1 x black!reader #request #carlos sainz x black!reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #f1 smut #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 scenario

488 notes · View notes

ellephlox · 7 months

Text

Head Over Heels

Summary: It's technically not your fault that you sprained your ankle, but Matt's annoyed with you anyway (at least, he pretends to be annoyed with you — but you know better).

Pairing: Matt x Fem!Reader

Warnings: A few swears, but otherwise just a whole lot of whumptober fluff!

"You're going to hurt yourself."

"I am not."

"I just heard you nearly fall over in the bathroom—"

"Because I'm rushing, Matt, that's what happens when your partner holds you captive for too long in bed and makes you late for work!"

Matt was in the process of buttoning his work shirt, a task that you noticed was taking him nearly triple the time it usually took, because his attention was entirely on you. "No one at the presentation will care if you're not wearing heels, sweetheart."

"I care!" You jangled your keys, checked your pockets again for your wallet, and slipped on a jacket. "It's a fashion thing. High heels equal professionalism."

"I like to think that I'm a professional lawyer, and not once in my life have I ever had to wear high heels to court."

"You're overreacting. I'm like a gymnast in heels. Ready? Watch this."

Your stilettos clacking against the floor, you performed several twirls, rotating as though you were a ballerina. For the first few, Matt said nothing, but then he reached out and stopped you with a firm hand on your shoulder.

"The heels sound like precarious twigs," he said.

"They're not precarious and they're not twigs. They're pretty." For added effect you started to skip by him towards your purse.

"Just — please stop," Matt said, finishing with his last button and gesturing downward. "Walk like a normal person, at least?"

"Don't worry. I wasn't planning on skipping into the office," you assured him. "Look, I'll see you for lunch, okay? I've got to split."

"Twelve o'clock. And also promise me you won't twirl like that during your presentation," he said, and leaned in to kiss you before you left.

It was another of those impossibly busy days when you and Matt wouldn't be able to spend much time together. He was going to be in court the entire afternoon, and you had a major annual presentation for work, meaning that you'd both be out overtime and wouldn't get home until late. The bright side was that you both had an opening at noon to meet at a small diner in Hell's Kitchen and catch up over lunch.

You cursed your high heels as you tried to speed down the stairs of Matt's apartment. They really weren't conducive for someone who was running late. Halfway down, you lost your footing; the stem of the heel missed the edge of the step and you jolted downward.

And, mercifully, caught yourself on the railing.

Knowing for certain that Matt was listening to you and likely heard your misstep — as well as the way your heart was hammering from the adrenaline of nearly falling down a flight of stairs — you muttered aloud, "See? Everything's fine," and continued on your way. Shortly after, your phone vibrated with a text from Matt:

Are you trying to give me a heart attack?

Laughing to yourself, you stowed your phone back in your purse.

And the high heels did work out, for most of the morning. You gave your presentation and then buried yourself at your desk in paperwork, confined to work for the rest of the day on everything you'd fallen behind in while prepping for the presentation. You couldn't help but glance at the clock every ten minutes; noon was going to be the breath of fresh air in an otherwise stressful day.

Fifteen minutes to noon you got up from your desk and made your way out onto the street. The sun was shining, a soft balmy breeze carried the fragrance of blooming lilacs as you passed a small garden, and plush clouds drifted overhead idly.

And then, just as you were hurrying to crossing the street — technically the pedestrian light was red, but you had a solid seven seconds before the approaching car would actually reach you — there was an ominous snap, and you found yourself falling onto the pavement, your ankle rolling in the process.

Well, not just rolling. It felt more like your ankle was jerked down into a direction it definitely shouldn't have been in, accompanied by a soft pop and a flaring of sharp, throbbing pain.

The car that you would have easily made it past had to brake, honking angrily at you, and you waved vehemently in apology as you struggled to your feet — shit shit shit that hurts — and hobbled out of the street.

"Bitch!" the man shouted from his window as he accelerated by you, tossing a middle finger at you.

Usually that would probably be enough to ruin your day, being yelled at by a stranger, but you were much more preoccupied with the stabbing pain in your ankle. Did I break it? Should sprains hurt this much? You stared, stunned, at the broken stiletto that was half-dangling from your shoe. It had simply snapped in half, for no reason at all.

"Traitor," you muttered to it, taking shelter in the shade of a building to assess your ankle. Gingerly you tried touching it, but it flashed with pain as you pressed on it. Inhaling deeply and tilting your head backwards — do NOT cry don't cry don't cry don't cry— you began to continue your way to the diner.

Matt wasn't going to be happy about this. And you already knew there was no way you could hide it from him. You were limping so badly that it was difficult to walk; each movement felt as though you were tearing your ankle again. If you could arrive at the diner first and get yourself seated, then maybe you had a small chance of the injury going unnoticed, but your limping must have delayed you just enough, because you could see Matt through the window of the restaurant — he'd already arrived.

And his head was already tilted in a way that meant, yep, he's definitely onto me, he can already hear me.

"Hi," you greeted him weakly as you walked in, ignoring the fact that tears were spiking in your eyes. Matt was already on his feet, grabbing his cane almost as an afterthought and approaching you quickly.

"I didn't think it was you at first," he said, quietly so that other patrons in the diner wouldn't hear. "Your gait was so different. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's not so bad," you said, knowing he'd hear right through the lie, but not caring much in the moment.

"Let me feel it."

There was no sense in objecting; Matt, you knew, wouldn't be satisfied until he'd done his radar scanning of it so that he could know precisely what was going on in your ankle. "Okay," you agreed. "But let's use the bathroom. These people trying to enjoy their meals don't need to see you feeling up my ankle."

It was a single-user bathroom, fortunately. Matt entered first and held the door open for you, and only once it was shut and locked did he abandon his cane and stoop by your feet. You leaned against the sink as his fingers grazed your ankle.

"What's my diagnosis, Mr. X-Ray?" you asked, trying to come off as playful, but it was hard hiding the pain in your voice. It didn't help that Matt wasn't having it. He stood up, hands on his hips, jaw twitching.

"You fully tore the ligament," he said. "I told you that those heels would get you hurt."

"Whoa, excuse me. This was not my fault. I didn't trip. The heel just happened to snap on me, so it is one hundred percent, completely, utterly, not my fault."

"You knowingly wore dangerous shoes," Matt insisted.

"Stilettos aren't inherently dangerous, Matt! They're shoes! I just got a bit unlucky—"

"Unlucky? You can hardly walk."

"I'm fine," you said, a bit more firmly, and tried, recklessly, to do the twirl you had done that morning to prove it, but had to stop immediately because it sent a rocketing flare of pain through your leg. "Ow. Shit."

Matt steadied you instinctively. "You should take the rest of the day off and go to the doctor."

"No way. I'm so far behind in work. Besides, I'm good once I'm sitting, it's just walking that's hard."

Matt said nothing at first, but helped you get from the bathroom to the booth, one hand loosely holding his cane and the other supporting you as you leaned on him. You were grateful for his strength practically holding you up; already your ankle was swelling and walking alone would have made a scene. Still, it earned a few stares from several of the other people eating in the diner, but you ignored them.

"I guess I should clarify," Matt said, only once you were seated. "You are taking the rest of the day off."

You furrowed your brow, outraged. "You can't tell me what to do."

"And I'd really recommend seeing a doctor," he continued, "because—"

"Last week you—" You realized your voice was loud and lowered it to a whisper. "Last month you came flopping onto the bed at three in the morning, gasping for breath because you fractured a rib, and when I begged you to see a doctor, you said, 'I'm fine. Don't worry about me so much.' Don't you see how much of a hypocrite you are?"

"I don't care whether or not I'm a hypocrite, I care that you go to the doctor," he said, then added, "But if you don't, you're at least not going back to work. You need to rest, elevate the ankle, and ice it."

You bit your lip. "What if I simply refuse?"

"Then I'll call Claire and make her come pay us a visit tonight to check on you."

The thought of burdening Claire with having to make a trip out to Matt's apartment just for your sake was enough to make your cheeks burn. "You wouldn't."

"I would," he said. "Unless you at the very least stay home the rest of the day and ice your ankle."

"I can't believe you." You fell into silence, punctuated only by the waitress coming to take your beverage orders. Once she left, you tried to brighten things a bit, because Matt's mouth was curved in such an unhappy frown that it was beginning to stress you out. "At least it wasn't my favorite pair of stilettos. If it had been, I might be tempted to try super-gluing the heel back on."

It didn't seem to improve his mood, because Matt didn't smile. "I'd prefer if you just stuck to flats from now on."

"That's a lie. I know you love my heels," you said, impetuously leaning across the table to grab his hands. "You may not be able to see my legs, but I know you can sense them, and I know that stilettos make them, like, ten times sexier."

"You know what's not sexy? A sprained ankle."

"Wow. Thanks for really bulldozing my self-esteem." You paused. "If my ankle makes me so un-sexy, then maybe I'll just... sleep on the couch tonight instead. Wouldn't want you to be near me if I'm all sprained-ankle-ish."

"You're impossible."

"I have a better idea. I can be bait," you said, watching Matt's expression carefully. "I'll stumble out onto the streets tonight — you know, all 'Woe is me, I've got a sprained ankle' — and that'll attract every mugger in the vicinity, seeing a vulnerable girl alone. They won't be able to help themselves, they'll just be dying to come over and rob me. And then, lo and behold! Daredevil dives in and catches all of Hell's Kitchen's criminals in one fell swoop."

Sure enough, you could see an irritated amusement in Matt's mouth, the type that meant he was torn between smiling and getting annoyed. "I'll agree to that plan when Foggy learns how to meditate for more than five minutes at a time."

The waitress arrived and took your orders. You sipped on the water she had delivered, your eyes not leaving Matt's face.

"What is it?" he said, finally. "You're dying to say something."

"Yeah. I want you to admit that it's not my poor high heels you're angry with. You're just worried about me."

"Can't it be both?"

"Leave my high heels out of this and admit it, Matt."

"Fine. I'm worried about you. Does that make you happy?"

"Sure does," you said, squeezing his hands and smiling. "By the way... did I ever mention that I'm head over heels in love with you?"

"Oh, my God."

A/N: This was just a short piece inspired by two separate asks I received that fit together quite well:

Prompt 1: hi!!! could you do a hurt/comfort where reader breaks her heel and sprains her ankle while walking home and matt finds her??

Prompt 2: May I request a Matt fic? I've been seeing girls on YouTube that test their heels out by running around in front of their s/o, and I thought it would be really funny with a clumsy reader and Matt having an absolute heart attack. Thanks!

Just realized that I completely altered the first prompt by having them meet at a diner rather than Matt finding her, so I apologize! I hope it was still alright to read :) happy whumptober, everyone!

#fluff #whump #whumptober #matt murdock #marvel #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #reader insert #reader #mcu #x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader

853 notes · View notes

randombush3 · 15 days

Text

a sense of coming home

ona batlle x reader

summary: part two of this! ona and you are (frustratingly) still just friends

words: 6.5k (i have NO idea why i waffle so much but lets pls allow it)

warnings: there's like five secs of smut at the end

notes: this has been the most self-indulgent fic i've written because this is how i met my gf and so i am glad to show you a nice happy ending

again, the quote is from 'this side of paradise' (said gf's fav book - i don't recommend however because the protagonist is a twat)

also i didn't proofread bc i am exhausted and i am hungover and i am very ready to go to sleep (#globetrotting is not for the weak) x

There is something difficult about forcing oneself back to their toxic roots. Ona discovers as such as she presses her body into a temple of meaningless sex, but she does so because she is a driven person. Ona is determined to get over you, once and for all, except she’d quite like to stay friends (hence why she agreed when asked). She also thinks it would expose her to fall out because her feelings shouldn’t have existed anyway, so she technically shouldn’t be heartbroken?

Anyway, Ona rampages through Manchester! They appreciate her accent – some even ask her to speak to them in Spanish when she is three fingers deep inside of them, to which she obliges with little fanfare – and it isn’t like the city lacks queer women. It is a super solid way to keep her busy, to tear her attention from hungrily checking your Instagram whenever possible.

It’s also what lands her with coronavirus. She’s embarrassed to admit just how many people she has come into contact with when the club doctors ask her questions over the phone.

You send her a lovely message after hearing she is yet another fallen soldier.

Ona is at home, isolating, and you are apparently trapped in Spain, unable to get into Italy. You haven’t quite made it to your parents’ house since your flight was supposed to depart from Madrid. “How come you’re not on the phone to one of your ‘connections’?” Ona asks suspiciously, wondering why this call has lasted longer than ten minutes. “Surely someone knows someone else and they can get you back home.”

“I’m hardly out of my depth in my own country,” you remind her with a twinging sigh, pained that she has suppressed all memories of your childhood. “It’s not like I don’t speak Spanish.”

“Didn’t you get rid of it in your head to make space for Italian and English? Oh, and French too, right? That’s where the fashion weeks are.”

You laugh at her pride for knowing something about your job, but it is not to ridicule her. “I am speaking to you, aren’t I?”

“In Catalan,” she points out. “Forget Spanish, but don’t forget Catalan.”

“I can’t. It’s the language everyone uses to tell me about how fucked you’ve been lately.” You take in a deep breath, uncomfortable with Ona’s silence but knowing your piece needs to be said. “Are you aware of what happened a few months ago? Why I missed the wedding?” One of your friends met her dream man and he whisked her off to Menorca for a small ceremony. Only the people she loved the most were invited, which included your childhood friend group. “We were in New York, a whole bunch of us. It was late but the show had been a big deal so we went out to celebrate, and… these ‘friends’, these people, they aren’t the same as you and me. Most of them are English, you know, and they come from very fancy schools where addiction is normal. Two of them ended up in the hospital that night – the bag hadn’t even made it round to me by the time they’d dropped. I know it seems far-fetched, but all I’m trying to say is that addiction has consequences. Bad consequences.”

“So you’re not on my side?” Ona isn’t taking this too seriously. A few people have joked about her questionable new hobby, but no one has made it seem so dire that they have needed to get you involved. You who, of course, Ona will listen to.

“I am always on your side.”

That is her main take-away from the conversation, Ona chooses, when it ends an hour later. She swoons, meaning the last twenty women have been a waste of time, but she also tortures herself into ignoring the potential problem. Being a sex addict would be embarrassing, so she won’t be.

Though your subtle shaming for her abundance of quick-fix flings is hypocritical, Ona would also hate for you to see her that way. You can avoid commitment all you like, but she is determined to be different to prove to you that she is a viable candidate, should you wish to stop stringing her along. It’s probably toxic; it probably means that you are both clinging onto a friendship that should either end or be labelled something else. It probably is the push and pull that has kept you interested, Ona thinks, because she knows that you like the chase.

However, as much as she’d like to be freed of whatever game she is caught up in, she can’t seem to let you go like that.

…

The next time Ona and you have a proper conversation about something other than how your love lives have been stunted or how people back home are not as successful as the two of you is when most of the restrictions have been lifted.

You waited out the pandemic in Vilassar de Mar, much to your annoyance, but now that you can travel again, the first person on your mind to visit is your childhood best friend. You’re not as close as you used to be, having drifted further during even more years apart, but it does not dull your love for her, nor hers for you.

Ona has changed her mind about Manchester and is forcing herself to like it. It works enough for a visit from you to be the last thing on her mind, and so she slows her response time down until the next arranged date to see each other in person is all set for the summer before the Euros in England.

You’re not quite home but you are in the country, and, with the pre-Euros camp in two days, Ona is spending the final few hours of calm left before the storm in the comforting presence of her mum and dad.

And… you, apparently.

“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” is Ona’s greeting when she opens the front door.

Your smile is wide and genuine, and you are holding a gift bag in one hand. There is a nice bottle of wine in the other. “Not even an ‘hola’?” When no reply comes, you swallow the emotions that have arisen; the ones that are maybe, just a little bit to do with how soft Ona looks with her hair down. And the slope of her jaw. And the ghosts of defined biceps that bulge even when she isn’t flexing her arms. “I’m dropping by to see your parents. I thought you were in Barcelona with your footballer friends.”

“You visit my parents?” asks Ona curiously.

“Of course.”

With that, you side-step her and call out to her mother, announcing both your arrival and your desire to hand them their gifts. Dinner is just about to be served, and Ona is soon tasked with setting another place at the table for you as though the last ten years had never happened and your friendship hadn’t lost its innocence.

Maybe it would be better for Ona to not know what it feels like to kiss you, to touch you, to – dare she think it – love you. It would certainly make things less painful, and would have saved her from catching at least one illness and spending a good amount of money on Ubers to escape from random apartments. It would make it easier to listen to you talk about your life in Milan, where you seem to exist in a bubble of incredibly attractive people who are desperate to hold hands and form a raft.

“Modelling can be brutal,” you agree, nodding at Ona’s father as you follow on from his concerns about your career. He voices them regularly; whenever you see him. Ona realises you have spent a lot of time with her parents without her. “It gets quite competitive between the girls so I’ve been somewhat avoiding them. They’ve brought in someone new, scouted from Germany, I think, and I’m a little worried that I’ll have to switch agencies if they start prioritising her.” You glance at Ona, wanting to know if she is listening, hoping she is. You wish that she were as good at suppressing her feelings as you are. You wish she didn’t look at you like you hung the moon, because you know that you have to tell her you have hung it for someone else. “I’d move tomorrow, to be honest, but I’ve started seeing this guy and he’s convincing me to stay in Milan.”

“The minute he is your boyfriend, you bring him here,” commands Ona’s mother in a tone she hasn’t yet used on her actual daughter (said daughter has never mentioned anyone before). “Show us a picture of him! Is he a model like you?”

He is, and if Ona holds her fork tighter after she sees the photo you pull up, that is her business. You secretly take in her clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, and this might be the worst thing you have ever had to do. To see her so defeated, so hopeless, is upsetting, especially since you are harbouring the same feelings. However, you are able to admit when it is time to throw the towel in, and you can no longer live like this.

Ona is too perfect for you. She is driven, hard-working, and funny. She likes to nutmeg little children on the street, and she likes to buy them an ice-cream if they slip a goal past her, slotting the flat footballs into imaginary nets and celebrating as though they have just won the Champions League. She knows a lot, more than she thinks she does. She cares about people, but sometimes it manifests in anger, in frustration.

Any aspect of her is an aspect that you could love, and that is reason enough not to. Because how can you allow yourself to taint such perfection?

But, in this unspoken rejection, the compliment is obscured from the recipient’s view. All Ona sees when you gush about how he buys you flowers and takes you out to dinner, is a burning, bright question. It flashes red and yellow, both as a warning and cry for attention. How can she compete if you don’t even recognise her as a competitor?

…

“--And then they proceeded to finish a film they were halfway through as if it were the most normal thing ever,” Ona rants the minute she hits the concrete of Las Rozas, walking into the facility with Aitana and the other girls who travelled with her from Barcelona. Only the midfielder has been gracious enough to listen to the entire monologue, but the others joke that that is because Ona’s emotional state has led her to spiral in her native language. It is forbidden for them to openly speak Catalan in the Spanish camp, according to Jorge Vilda, who loves to hurl a ‘we can send you back to where you came from in an instant’ their way if he so much as hears a ‘bon dia’. Naturally, Aitana doesn’t give a fuck about the rule, although Ona chooses to believe that she is listening because she cares.

“Are you done?” Aitana asks thoughtfully, sucking on her bottom lip as she tries to absorb her friend’s crisis and formulate a valid, sensible response. The two have known each other for a while now, and Aitana remembers a time when Ona was relentlessly teased by their older teammates for being in love with her best friend. It is clear to her that those feelings never ceased, though she has heard through the grapevine (Leila Ouahabi) that you are now a model and you live somewhere in Italy. You’re part Italian, is what Leila also claims, having professed your ethnicity to a small huddle of fellow gossipers one day in the gym at the Barça training facility.

“No! Nothing is ever done with her. It’s viscous and it continues in a horrid cycle that has me flapping around in circles like some idiot. I am one of her boys.” Ona groans dramatically, the sound perhaps a little too loud. A few of the girls in front of them turn around to see why a cat seems to have been strangled, but they quickly lose interest when they see it is just Ona and her disastrous situation. “Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to be one of her guys? I am a professional footballer! I play for Manchester United, one of the most historic clubs in the world, and I am about to represent my country in a major tournament. I am successful, Aita, and yet I am still not enough for her.”

“Maybe she only likes men.”

“A man has never made her scream like I have,” she bites back. Aitana blushes, but Ona is too far gone in her rage to hear her crudeness nor preserve her friend’s sanity. “She’s been like this since she decided she was gay! Isn’t that hilarious? ‘Ona, I think I’m gay’, she said. I know lesbian breakups can be hard, but there is no way my cousin fucked her up to this extent.”

“I can’t help you with this, Oni,” Aitana laments, sorry to have to confess this to her friend. “I think you need to talk to her about it. A proper conversation to fix long-term issues, not like the ones you obviously had when agreeing to stop having sex and things like that. Only she knows what she’s thinking.” It is definitely not the advice Ona wants to hear, but she cannot deny the midfielder’s wisdom. “But for now, we focus on winning.”

…

You are more than a little confused.

To start from the beginning, Ona’s cousin fucked you up. She broke your heart, and that first impression of dating girls was incredibly traumatising. With girls, you don’t just kiss and sleep with them, you get close – really close – and then when you break up, it is like you have lost both a girlfriend and a best friend.

Men are a lot simpler. Men like you and they aren’t shy about it. They can sometimes be just as cruel, but you have never felt invested enough to care too much.

Some nights, you don’t fall asleep, tossing and turning between your sexual identity, aware that you don’t need to label it but desperate to… discover yourself. If you don’t understand that part of you, how will someone else? How can you be loved? How do you even know who you want to love you?

For as much as Milan is great, it definitely doesn’t help you with your crisis. Girls in Milan like to do what they want. It is not uncommon for the models to kiss each other in clubs, in front of appreciative male gazes or not, and then reveal their engagement to their future husband the very next day. It’s easy to be drawn into such a bubble, but the minute you step out of it, you are hit with the real world.

It’s what makes the pandemic so distressing for you personally, because you are forced to live like normal people for some time. Your eyes are held open and the question is shoved down your throat, and it really doesn’t help that Ona’s cousin never moved out of Vilassar de Mar.

She sees you one day, saying hello from a suitable distance as you pick up milk as per your mother’s request. “I heard you’re modelling?” she asks with no agenda, no seductive glint in her eye. You notice the ring on her finger, and she feels the heaviness of your staring. “Oh, I got married a year ago. Did Ona not tell you?”

You realise that you and Ona try to avoid talking about anything other than the love interests you have. “No, she didn’t. Congratulations, though. She’s a lucky woman.”

“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy for me,” laughs the woman opposite you, amused and somewhat apologetic. “Look, I’m really sorry for how I acted when we were younger. I was definitely not the most mature person out there, and I know I hurt you.”

“I cried for months.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. You suck in a deep breath, trying to hold the memories of your pain at bay. “The first breakup is usually the worst but at least it gets better, as you probably know.”

She looks at you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation. It never comes.

“I haven’t dated another girl since,” you tell her, sounding rather detached from yourself.

Her eyebrows furrow and she is clearly frowning behind her facemask. “What about Ona? I thought you were together when you lived in Madrid. It takes more than a friendship to do what you did.”

You were originally going to go to university in England. It was your dream, and Ona wasn’t entirely aware of the situation because you hadn’t wanted to tell her you were leaving. Then she was sent out on a professional contract to Madrid, and it wasn’t like you were the only one leaving.

Ona’s cousin, years ago, had suggested that you go to Madrid if you wanted to get away from Vilassar de Mar. “You’ll be close enough to come home when you’d like, but not so close that you’ll feel as though nothing has changed,” she had said.

No one had known about your offers in England aside from your parents. And Ona’s cousin, who’d only found out because you had called her, drunk on celebratory champagne, because you had to tell someone.

“You gave up a dream for her because you didn’t want her to be alone.”

“I moved to Milan. In the end, she was alone.”

“You sound like you regret it,” she replies, nodding once at you to bid you farewell and then heading over to a woman who is standing with a puppy in her arms. You watch as she pulls down her mask and kisses her wife, her eyes shining with love and happiness, and your blood runs green with jealousy.

You hate Ona’s cousin for devastating you once more.

Do you regret it?

It’s unclear.

You try to make sense of it when you don’t hesitate to fly back to Italy the minute you can, going home to lick your wounds at Ona’s non-committal response to meeting you when you are in London the next month. It hurts that she is no longer at your beck-and-call, but you are somewhat happy for her. You know that lines have been crossed and that she has suffered for it. You know that you are probably the one at fault here.

This time in Milan, you don’t fight it as much. You kiss other girls and let them go home to their boyfriends; you submit to the thing you had convinced yourself you would never become.

As you drive yourself deeper and deeper into your stereotype, the thought of Ona gets pushed away and newer, more culturally-acceptable fantasies come to mind.

It takes a photoshoot for him to ask you out on a date.

It takes returning home and gaining the approval of Ona’s parents (who are far more open than your own) for you to agree to be official.

You don’t ask Ona what she thinks. She’s busy, you reason, because she is representing Spain at the Euros. She won’t care who you are dating and she certainly doesn’t need it rubbed in her face.

There are many reasons why you go out with him.

One is that you do like him; he’s nice, he’s funny, he treats you well. (He’s not Ona.) Another is that rent is going up and him sharing the load is helpful. (He’s not Ona.) There is also that he is very popular within the agency, and your chemistry on camera is enough to keep your jobs rolling in and casting directors satisfied.

He’s not Ona. You know that.

That's the whole point.

If he were Ona, you’d be deeply in love with him. If he were Ona, you would never leave the house, never leave his embrace, never leave the little bubble created when it is just the two of you and no one else. If he were Ona, you would be excited about the conversations he gently guides you into; marriage, children, where you are going to live one day. You’d miss him more when he isn’t here. You’d care.

But you just… don’t.

Another year passes, more Ona-less than the last, and then she is suddenly coming back home to Barcelona, a medal around her neck and word of a relationship floating above her head.

You could ask her about it if you wanted to because she is still one of your closest friends, but the truth is, you really, desperately don’t want to hear it. While Ona has been falling in love with someone else, you have been proving your stupid feelings to yourself.

The act (your current relationship) lowers enough for you to go home for Christmas. You leave Milan as though fleeing from a hurricane, and you refuse to control the damage until you have entered the new year. Your parents aren’t entirely sure they want you moping about the house, confused how someone so successful can revert to a moody teenager the minute they are back in safe territory, and they heavily encourage you to accept an invite that was extended out to you a few months ago.

Your friends are going skiing in Andorra, and they’d like for you to come with them.

“Ona won’t be there,” one of them regretfully informs you. “She said she doesn’t want to make things weird. She has a girlfriend – or, I don’t know, a talking stage. She wants you to have fun.”

“But Ona and I are friends,” you try to explain, feeling exposed by the look of pity she gives you; the same look someone receives when they find out their ex has gotten married or something similar. As a defensive mechanism, you hastily pull out your phone and dial her number. Everyone watches you, now uninterested in their food as you dine and plan your holiday.

Ona picks up on the third ring, escaping her dinner with Lucy and rushing into the cool, nighttime air of Barcelona.

“Hi?” she says – asks – with raised eyebrows, wondering if you’re in danger.

“You’re coming skiing with us, aren’t you?”

Your friends hide their laughs behind their hands, surprised by how firm your tone is. You do not need it for Ona, because she does anything you say regardless, but they enjoy seeing this side of you. This is someone who has had to fend for herself in a foreign country.

Removing the phone from her ear for a moment, Ona sighs, disappointed in herself.

“Yeah, of course. I’ve missed you, you know.”

…

Skiing is not something Ona is really allowed to do. As a footballer, her legs are what pay her wage. Career-destroying planks of metal are not the best way to spend the dying embers of the year. She knows that. She does, she swears, but she is so eager to go that Jonatan cannot crush her dreams. He tells her, “if you get injured your contract will be reviewed, Ona Batlle,” and she promises him that it won’t happen. Nothing bad is going to happen.

It will be the first time she has spent more than a day with her childhood friends, and she is unbelievably excited.

Lucy finds it adorable and makes it known, helping her pack for her trip, versed in what to bring because her sister skis or something like that (Ona can’t really focus on her almost-girlfriend's monologue). Lucy likes Ona a lot, and it makes her stomach flutter when she thinks about Ona and her friends talking about them. She’s sure her feelings are reciprocated, and she cannot wait for Ona to return to her in the new year, all smiles and lingering hangovers, and ask her to be her girlfriend. Officially.

Your friends convene in the centre of Vilassar de Mar with two cars between you. There are ten people coming.

Someone, most-likely trying to keep the peace, instructs Ona into one vehicle and you into the other. The drive isn’t too long, but you suppose that the tension is uncomfortable for those who aren’t accustomed to maintaining a friendship despite the weight of it.

It’s five days, and you are determined to have fun.

Ona is naturally good at this, although she claims it is her first time. You, living in Milan, are just as advanced.

By the third day, the both of you agree that going off together to do some of the harder runs will be harmless. Spending the day together won’t feel like a date or a romantic holiday. Watching Ona glide over the compacted snow won’t be attractive, watching her cocky smirk as she scales the bumps along the side of the piste won’t do anything.

It won’t. (It does.)

And it just has to be the third day that someone pulls out two bottles of tequila and a drinking game that is going to ensure every single one of you is off your face by midnight.

In rooms opposite one another, you and Ona call your respective partners and tell them about how great a time you are having, actively avoiding telling them about who you spent the day with as though it counts as cheating. It doesn’t, technically. Nothing has happened. But, still, it feels intimate and secret; forbidden.

Then, there is a shout that rings through the house. Everyone comes to the table; the party has begun.

Ona finds out that she is absolutely terrible at drinking games, and loses in every way possible.

You find out that she is still just as touchy when she is drunk.

Your friends try not to comment on it, all having agreed upon yet another passive role in such an irritating situation. Their non-interference almost ceases by the time Ona climbs onto your lap, head turning as she whispers something into your drunk ears, making you laugh privately. In fact, someone has to hold someone else back before they shout at the two of you to make out or break up.

But it’s not really necessary, their prompting, because it hits a certain hour and… nothing else matters anymore.

Ona has been touching you the whole night and you have finally reached your limit.

Boyfriend be damned, you lead her to your bedroom.

She asks you many times if you still want this, and you cannot think of anything to say other than ‘yes’.

You’re not as drunk as she is, and you both know that, but everything feels so perfect and right.

When you wake up the next morning, your anger is more at yourself than the sleeping woman beside you, but she is an outward target for such a boiling emotion and it just makes things easier.

“Ona.” You shake her awake, not caring for her hangover. “Ona, I can’t believe we’ve done this.” She rubs her eyes, dazed and confused for a moment but coming to her senses soon enough. “I have a boyfriend, Ona, and… I don’t like you like that.”

It’s not true.

It’s really, really, really not true, but the fact that you have said it is enough for Ona to leave your room with the intention of never seeing you again.

She gets the train back to Barcelona, turning up at Lucy’s flat in floods of tears, and barrels straight into those strong arms with the intention of never mentioning what she has done.

…

You break up with your boyfriend a month later. Or rather, he breaks up with you, tired of being messed around, tired of your hesitation to fully commit.

The break-up is not the most upsetting thing you’ve been through, but your ego is a little bruised.

You try to make it look like you are having a great time in Milan, even though the agency has once again discarded your file and overlooked you for shoots you used to book in an instant. You try to seem like things aren’t falling apart, but it’s of no use when your father calls you and tells you that your mother is ill.

It isn’t cancer but it’s similar, and you know that you need to come home.

You pack your bags and leave without a second thought, because maybe Madrid was far enough. Maybe there is a reason Ona signed for her home club again and most of your friends still live relatively close to their parents.

Maybe you are not meant to be separated from those you love, because running away is futile if you are always going to end up together again.

In Barcelona, a modelling agency eagerly draws up a contract with you. Although you are from there, your career being based in Milan previously creates an international allure about you (or so they say), and you are assured that work is going to rush towards you as though someone has just knocked down a dam.

Your job is secured, your mother begins treatment, but there is something you cannot shake off.

It hurts to think of Ona, to think of how you left things, but it helps, too. Seeing her face in your mind is comforting. You hear her voice as you drift off to sleep, and you let it soothe you in your dreams.

“Ona has a girlfriend,” her mother tells you when you next visit them. Her frown is unexpected because all she has ever wanted is for her children to be happy and loved. “It’s not right, it doesn’t feel right.” You begin to shrug your shoulders and crawl into your shell, but she interrupts your thought process; “I think you should go see her.”

“Why?”

The woman rolls her eyes. “Just do what I say.”

You nod because she is so scarily sure about it, and you… It’s hard to believe, but you call Ona.

She picks up.

“I was sorry to hear about your mum.”

“Don’t worry. She’s fine.”

“Are you back at home?”

“Yeah, I am.” You pause. “Well, not quite. I’m living in Barcelona.”

Something fizzes in the air; pops, crackles.

“Need me to show you around the city?”

And it’s Ona, so how could you say no?

…

Your visit goes very well.

She takes you out to dinner and shows you around her neighbourhood. She introduces you when she runs into people she knows, and she is insistent about dragging you to her football match on the weekend.

Everything is seemingly forgiven and Ona is intent on integrating you back into her life.

She wants you to feel at home, though she knows you should already, and she wants to lessen the stress of hospital appointments and death and, if not death, then a difficult recovery.

You are sitting in her apartment – now devoid of all signs of Lucy – on her comfortable sofa, watching something together after a day of walking around and sealing up the cracks that formed in Andorra.

Sitting leads into cuddling and then into wandering hands that eagerly roam underneath layers of fabric.

Ona’s breath hitches as you brush the hard lines of her abs, your hands particularly drawn to them and just how strong she has become. “You must have only felt them on men,” she offers as an explanation. “How many have you slept with in comparison to–?”

And your hands stop.

“Sorry,” Ona mumbles, seemingly upset at her outburst. “I’m just curious. I can’t work you out.” She can’t quite look you in the eye, mainly due to the logistics of your position, but she isn’t sure she wants to see the truth attached to her statement.

You question if that’s a good thing, the fact she needs to ask; the fact that she has no choice but to communicate. It was going to happen sooner or later. “A few,” is what you settle on. Ona leaves it at that, carefully pulling the hair tie from your plait, unravelling it with one hand as the other rests against your stomach in an embrace. You smile. “You’re not going to ask who?”

Her fingers stop for a moment. “No.” She speaks so quietly, her voice almost a whisper in your ear. “I don’t care about them.” You relax into her more, feeling her against your back, feeling the softness of the blanket against your feet as it hangs at the edge of the sofa.

“Who do you care about, then?”

“You.”

Carefully, both her hands hold your hips and she sits you up, smiling as she does. You tell her she’s showing off, she replies that you are always showing off. To that, you brush those hands from your sides and lean down to kiss her, more decidedly for once; more in control. It’s a surprising feeling for both of you, the forcefulness. Urgency. Not unfamiliar, but unexpected for this time on this day.

The last time you kissed Ona, you had a boyfriend.

Your mouth goes to her neck as soon as she decides that she wants her hands back on your hips, pushing you down into her lap. It’s now a competition, you think. She’s quickly coming completely undone by your kissing and biting, but you are not ignoring the feeling as she makes you grind down, makes you need that friction. “Fuck,” you moan in her ear. She grips you tighter.

You start to pull off her shirt having had enough of the grey between you, asking if it’s okay, if she’s sure she isn’t too tired. Her reply is, “take it off, god,” and then the removal of your clothes that get thrown just shy of the wine glasses set out on her coffee table. Leggings aren’t the most practical for impromptu sex, but she’s quick and smooth and someone who has definitely done that before.

With your bare chest on display and almost nothing between Ona and you, she lifts you up for a moment with the intention of flipping the two of you, getting you on your back. You pause for a moment, trying to decide if she’s doing it because she wants to or because she thinks that’s the only way to do it, but her hands are moving now, up your sides, round the front of your chest and you relax. She laughs quietly, amused, because the tension dissipates, dissolving like sweet, sweet sugar in hot coffee as soon as your legs wrap around her back.

Ona asks before she does it, picking you up and laying you back down without needing to part her lips from your own. You watch her as she sits up, body in between your thighs. “You’re going to just stay there?” She shakes her head. “I can top,” you tease, a stark contrast from how it was the last time you did this. Ona doesn’t like being told she can’t do something. However indirectly.

“Yeah?” You nod, biting the smirk out of your lips. “I don’t care.”

You are in the process of rolling your eyes when her cocky mouth is put to good use. Your underwear was taken off at some point earlier — you hadn’t realised. Ona’s head moves between your legs, up and down, your hand that isn’t holding onto the sofa in her hair, the soft waves lacing between your fingers.

She’s good at it; thorough, practised. Her tongue circles your clit for a moment before dipping into your entrance. Something about the cockiness of her movements, her tongue, her hand rubbing between her own legs, makes everything more surreal, more blissful. She moans softly, lips kissing their way up your body, hands no longer focused on herself. Instead, they take the place of her mouth, two fingers inside you as quickly as it takes for her to ask if you are okay to carry on. Your reply (“yes”) is cut off quickly by her mouth on yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip in another question of permission. You can taste yourself on her.

At her command, you sit up, letting her pull you back onto her lap as she sucks at your neck. “Don’t leave any marks,” you warn as her teeth pull a whimper from your supposed stoicness. “I don’t want the makeup artists asking questions.” It comes out too late, because you feel her teeth graze your collarbone quickly, not painful, no, but something that feels so, so good. “Ona.” She sighs in disappointment and adjusts where you are in her lap, so your legs are either side of her thigh.

You find yourself rocking slowly, letting her savour your breasts between her hands and her mouth. She whispers that she wants to see you come, that you don’t need to hold back – not with her, not ever – so you start grinding down, harder, faster. Her hands drop back to your hips, guiding your movements, forcing you to slow down when she feels everything building up. Each time, you let out a “fuck” and attempt to go against her grip to get that friction. “Not just yet,” she mutters, no longer touching you anywhere other than where her hands meet your hips and her thigh presses between your legs.

“Fuck off, Ona,” you breathe, frustrated. “When, then?”

She slows the pace even more. “Can you last a little longer?” You look at her face, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen over her eyes, ghosting your fingers along her cheek, running your thumb along her lips. She smiles again, eyes creasing slightly.

As her hands drop to cup your face, you say, “you’re beautiful.”

Ona blushes.

You look down at her exposed cleavage, nipples pebbled against the sports bra that is unusually low-cut. It might border on intense staring as you begin to grind against her with the intention of actually getting off now. She laughs, saying her eyes are higher up than that, but going back to her trail of kisses along your jaw nevertheless.

For what seems like longer than a few seconds, the build up finally stops, the tower toppling over in a rush of pleasure. Ona’s hands move your hips as your head drops to rest on her shoulder. She talks you through it, telling you that you look so pretty, telling you that she’s so turned on.

And that’s when she whispers it.

It has taken years to get to this moment, many of them filled with unnecessary suffering.

It has taken years but it does not matter.

Ona tells you that she loves you and that is when you have finally come home.

#woso x reader #woso #randombush3 #barca femeni #woso imagines #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle smut

279 notes · View notes

staarri · 24 days

Text

𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨 — 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡.

c. scaramouche

character(s) are friends with reader, gn!reader, angsty-ish, scaramouche is still in the fatui, this is a work of fiction

fluff , love letter . word count : roughly 0.9k

t. @aventurne @tragedy-of-commons @yvnaology @nyoomiin

Scaramouche is not an easy man to love. He’s busy, constantly busy, awake even during the most ungodly hours of the night and constantly rubbing at his eyes from his exhaustion. It’s no surprise the Fatui are overworking him again. What’s funny is that he’s sitting at his desk, a pile of papers on the right side–all reports from his underlings–were unnoticed; all of it, even the chirping of the birds as the sun rose and showed the start of a new day, Scaramouche was stuck on a piece of paper in front of him with the words that reads, To my dearest.

There's no way he can capture your beauty on a cheap piece of parchment . He should’ve bought something expensive instead, like a new set of clothes he thinks you’ll like. But lately you’ve just seemed so distant. He needs to reach you somehow. You’ve been driven away by the lies his mouth spills and now, he’s suffering with the consequences, and not once will he ever say it to you, but he needs you to stick with him while he tries to better himself.

So here he is: a fountain pen in hand, wasting his time with something so.. childish. Who writes letters anyway, isn't it something you did as a child towards someone you liked?

Call him a child then. Call him old-fashioned, traditional, and in love. Call him whatever you like, because in the end he’s yours, and he’s always been.

He’s let his thoughts linger for too long and suddenly it's 7 am. His eyebags have never been worse and his mind is tired, not from his job, but from this stupid letter he’s made no progress on. To my dearest should be good enough, right? I mean, you were easy to please. He was sure that it would be more than enough for you.

How tiring. He says, mindlessly scribbling on the paper, jet-black ink scattered all throughout and splattering around the words. Was he angry? Not at all. Frustrated, yes, but for a good reason–to think he did this just because you two were friends was infuriating. Shouldn’t you two be something more?

You were pretty, far too pretty for him to describe. Scaramouche thought his vocabulary was wide enough, but this letter alone has him searching for the words he once knew. Your eyes, leaving him feeling small in a never ending forest and your smile–god, your smile was intoxicating. It would give light to the things he’s been hiding from you this entire time. Your laugh–your voice, sweet and soft, loud and oh-so clear. How you’d bring it down to a whisper when you feel embarrassed about admitting something, how your nose scrunches up when you laugh or when your smile lines just seem so fitting for someone like you.

What was so special about you?

You were like the sunset on the beaches, glowing. Absolutely stunning, ethereal, lighting everything in a bright orange, his eyes becoming a mix of brown and a dark blue. He’s different around you, he's a completely different person. From the color of his eyes to the racing of his heart, to the feeling that he wasn’t getting enough air whenever you hold his hand–but you’d do it in a friendly way. You don't squeeze his hand too tight, you let go when necessary and don’t leave any kind of touch lingering for far too long.

Scaramouche is not an easy man to love. He’s bad with words and he can’t tell you the things you want to hear;he can’t provide you with the touch you crave, he can’t make up his mind. One moment he’s thinking about just giving you a whole bag of mora for you to use for your next trip, the other he’s thinking about finishing this damn letter that has plagued his mind ever since you first whispered the fact you appreciate him.

There’s no way he can treat you right. There’s absolutely no way he will be perfect, that he’ll be the partner that’ll leave such a mark on you. But god, ask for the world and he will give it to you. Name one thing and when you wake up it's right at your nightstand. Choose the ring and its design, he’ll get a matching one that you yourself decided on as well. Just say the word because he is a child in love.

So here he is, an envelope in hand. Going to the nearest flower shop to buy something that will still wilt under the sun after a few days. He will not love, and can’t love the same way as you, but he will learn how to.

Call him stupid;call him an idiot for falling for someone he knows is way too out of his league. But that’s all he is, and it's far too late to change that. He might lose you at some point, and that's really what scares him the most.

Suddenly he’s standing at your doorstep, ringing the doorbell and you’d be confused who in the world decided to bring you a sunflower and a piece of envelope in the middle of the day–you don't recall ordering anything.

He didn’t even get to sign it. Maybe next time he can get it right… for his dearest.

characters belong to their respective companies. everything is written by staarri - do not steal, reupload, translate, modify or feed my work to ai.

159 notes · View notes

callmelola111 · 11 months

Text

color me purple ♡ part one

✄ - - - - part 1 , part 2 , part 3 - - - - soundtrack - - - - ♡

synopsis: it’s summer and you’re back at camp stillwater. as a counselor you mean serious business and you’ll do whatever it takes for your cabin to come out on top. the only thing in the way of that; ellie williams and her crazy antics.

| 𓆣 | pairing & wc: ellie williams x reader. wc: 3.3k

| ❀ | cw (by part): 18+ themes (MDNI), modern au, fem reader, some fluff + some angst (for now), marijuana use, pet names (doll, princess, hun), light sexual themes, swearing, mentions of blood (reader gets bloody nose), mentions of age (reader and ellie are both said to be 20 but feel free to change it in ur head lol)

a/n: feeling so summer lately i just had to write this. living vicariously through reader cause like why tf am i not having a summer camp gay awakening. this series is just 3 parts but it is sweet as pie so pls enjoy!!! i love you all dearly ♡~ lola

The blinding sun beamed down on your bare skin. Normally the sweltering heat would bother you more, but the excitement of your first day back at camp was more than enough to distract you from the outlandish temperatures. You barreled down the grassy hill, duffle bag in hand, revealing the large wooden arch that spelled out the words CAMP STILLWATER.

The grounds were bustling with counselors and caretakers preparing for the arrival of campers later that evening. Everyone was dressed in color coded garments that signaled what cabin group they belonged to. You were dressed in red, head of cabin 12. Your sheer, white ringer tee read “Staff” and was hemmed with strips of crimson. To match, a pair of red booty shorts with white stretching down the sides. They were just long enough to cover your plush cheeks until naturally riding up as you walked to reveal the crease where ass meets thigh. To top it off, knee high socks striped with the same exact red. You were fucking adorable.

Nature crunched under your sneakers as you practically skipped down the trail headlining it to your cabin. As you reached the steps a very familiar voice called out your name.

“Well, well, well, look who it is. Cabin neighbors, once again. Did ya miss me doll?”

“Ellie fucking Williams, don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been praying all week that I wouldn’t get stuck with your dumbass again. But, here we are.” You rolled your eyes in a dramatic fashion putting an emphasis on your obvious sarcasm. This would be your 3rd summer bunking next door to your biggest rival Ellie Williams.

Although you and Ellie weren’t truly enemies, she did get on your nerves, and you got on hers. This fed into a mutual sarcastic bit that you guys have continued to carry out for years. You’d think by 20 years old the two of you would’ve grown out of these childish antics, but it was secretly one of your favorite parts of the summer.

Ellie gave a half-assed chuckle, “you can never escape me.”

“Oh yes I can!” You whipped your head around, excusing yourself from the conversation and climbed up the weathered steps of your cabin. Ellie gawked as she watched you depart, your thighs giggling with each step. Her piercing green eyes always found their way to your body, but only when she thought you wouldn’t notice.

You entered the barren room and didn't even take the time to unpack before you started adorning the walls with themed decor and tying red ribbons in your hair. Cabin 12 always thrived with spirit when you were there. You took your role as camp counselor seriously and took the competitiveness even more seriously.

Camp Stillwater ran on a point system, and at the end of the summer the cabin with the most wins a trophy. The girls from your cabin were always finishing first in the tournament games, but when they didn’t, it was Ellie’s stupid blue campers who were swooping in to steal the victory. It drove you crazy. Last summer you came second to her and you were determined to never let it happen again. You began speaking to the empty room as if trying to somehow manifest these dreams into reality.

“This year cabin 12 will finish the summer with the most points.”

“Talking to yourself again?” You jumped at the sound of Ellie, not noticing that she had been lurking in the doorway. She was only there for a moment, but didn’t feel like announcing herself, too busy enjoying you running around like an excited puppy, spouting off about victory. Ellie had always admired your high spirits and go-getter attitude. A ray of light emitted from you constantly and she loved to bask in its glory. But, of course, she’d never let it be known.

“God Ellie you can’t just sneak up on me like that!”

“Sorry princess but the warden wants everyone at the mess hall like now. Come on slacker!” You noticed the change of clothes on Ellie, she was now adorned in a T-shirt just like yours but with blue details rather than red. Her auburn hair was pulled into a messy half-up, half-down, she always wore it like that when it started getting hot.

“Shut up, I'm not a slacker!! I’m just busy going above and beyond for my campers.” you argued, a pout forming on your lips. Ellie always knew how to press your buttons.

“You really wanna win this year huh?” She moved into your space, tilting her head with a cocky smirk.

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

“And you really think I’m gonna let that happen?” she teased.

“You’re so annoying Ellie. You can do whatever you want, but I will be winning” You jutted your head forward dramatically in an attempt at intimidation. Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Right… let’s just get going before we’re late and they don’t let you counsel at all” Ellie grabbed your hand and pulled, urging you to follow. Feeling her warm, calloused hand in yours, you almost didn’t want to let go. But, you did.

The mess hall was lined with strings of wooden picnic tables, all connecting to create a sense of community when it was filled with campers. Flags cascaded the walls, each a different color with a number, representing the teams. A large case expanded across the back wall, filled with trophies from years before. The corners of your mouth upturned with anticipation of the summer to come. Your thoughts were soon interrupted by an amplified voice booming from a megaphone. Holding said megaphone was the warden, Mrs. Campbell.

“Alright ladies! Tonight is the night! You all know what to do so go ahead and file out to find your campers!!” You and Ellie exited out the back of the building, heading to the camp entrance. A swarm of girls’ chatting and screams grew louder as staff united with them. One of your favorite parts about Camp Stillwater was the lack of boys. You felt safe, and you loved the idea of getting to empower all these young impressionable women.

You held up a sign signaling your cabin number and a single file line began forming in front of you. You handed each of your girls red ribbons (matching the ones in your own hair) as a personal touch, trying to foster a bond right from the start. Meanwhile, Ellie stood around for her campers dapping them up, giving off the perfect “chill counselor” vibe. You found the lack of discipline a little obnoxious but to each their own.

That night Stillwater kicked off camp with a bonfire complete with goodies for smores. You sat, knees together on the rough log, feeling as it left imprints of the bark on your bare thighs. Ellie sat just one log over goofing off with some other staff members, shooting an occasional glance at you.

The plastic bag of graham crackers crinkled as you ripped it open to begin assembling your late night snack. The hot air had turned cool with the lack of sun, but the preceding heat lingered in the melted chocolate you attempted to pass out. You stared as the sticky mallow and sweet liquid coco coated your fingers, inviting golden crumbs to join in. Ellie observed you deciding how to handle the mess, and with just a few seconds of thought, watched you stick your sugary soaked fingers straight in your mouth. A surge of guilt hit Ellie, noticing how much your licking troubled her. She clenched her thighs together and decided sweets just weren't for her.

With your hunger satisfied, the bonfire burned bright and you droned off getting lost in the flicker of the flames. Just then, you see a familiar Ellie in your peripherals wandering to the woods. Curious, you peeled your sticky legs from where you sat and got up to follow. You trailed behind her struggling to conceal your presence due to the snapping twigs under your feet. Ellie snaked her body back to acknowledge you and your obviousness. She loved to tease.

“Stalker much?”

“God, you wish I was stalking you, Williams.”

“So why are you following me then? Trying to catch me breakin’ the rules?” she questioned, half joking, half not. Continuing your follow, the two of you reached a more secluded part of the forest and Ellie halted.

“If you don’t want me to catch you, then maybe you should stop breaking rules. Ever think of that?” you taunted.

“Whatever Nancy Drew.” And with that, Ellie reached into her pocket pulling out a freshly rolled joint.

“You gonna bust me?” she teased before you quickly slapped the drugs out of her hands and into the moist dirt below.

“ELLIE!!!” you scolded her like she was a camper.

“Hey what the hell dude?!” she reached down to retrieve the now dirty joint and began to light it. A panicked look washed over your face and your eyes darted around, surveying for any possible company. God forbid you let this girl get you in trouble.

“I should be saying what the hell to you! Smoking on the job? So much for setting a good example… God, Ellie!” You palmed your face not sure how to proceed. In spite of your make believe beef, Ellie was your friend and you didn’t want to tattle. On the other hand though, the goodie two shoes and competitive freak inside wanted so badly to expose Ellie's naughty behavior. With her out of the picture, you could finish this summer out with a win. But, if you were being honest with yourself, camp wouldn’t be the same without her.

“Sorry, sorry. I know” Ellie shook her head at the ground pretending to be ashamed but she couldn’t have cared less. She knew you’d never tell, so on she went with her scheming.

“You wanna hit though?”

“Ellie!!” This time you gave a blow to her exposed bicep, really trying to lay the guilt on thick.

“Come onnnn. This is your 3rd year here, you’ve gotta loosen up at some point. Just one hit? Please, for me?” Ellie flashed you the most annoying puppy dog eyes and a devilish smirk already anticipating your answer. Growing up you found it easy to resist peer pressure, you’ve always thought of yourself as a rule follower, but when it came to Ellie she always knew what to say to push you to the edge. She was such an instigator and you fell for her act every damn time.

“Fine… one hit.” She practically shoved the weed in your hands in excitement as you reluctantly gave in. Ellie always had so much fun chipping away at that good girl exterior you worked so hard to uphold. You then took a slow drag and passed it back to her. You fixated on her wet lips as they placed themselves around the joint. She took a quick inhale before an amused look spread across her face.

“Cherry?” Already feeling the high, you gave Ellie a puzzled look, not understanding what she meant.

“Your lipgloss hun” She gestured to the pink stain rimming the tip of the joint.

Your face flushed red, “shit sorry.” You dug your foot into the ground and gave your lips a lick, recalling the fruity flavor.

“S’all good, I liked the taste” She replied, making your face turn a shade redder, almost matching the shorts that hugged your curves. Ellie would remember this moment, the taste of your lipgloss felt like a brush with destiny. Already assimilating the flavor to memory, she imagined her lips on yours and that cherry taste lingering in an exchange of saliva. God Ellie!! Stop being a perv and shut the fuck up!!

As one of the few masculine girls at camp, she was practically drowning in women, but her fixation with you prevented anything past a casual hook up. And casual hook up she did- with at least a fourth of the staff. Understandably, things got desperate being stuck at camp for 2 months straight. It’s not like you had the privacy to rub one out while sleeping in a room full of occupied bunk beds. But, with Ellie being a known player, you personally hadn’t thought twice about getting involved, despite the occasional butterflies. Bullying each other was more fun anyways.

Finally, Ellie finally finished off the joint, letting you take a couple more hits in between hers. She stomped the roach out into the moist ground making sure to put out any remaining embers. Her long stride pointed in the direction of the light filled cabins before you stopped her. With weed now rampant in your system, you weren’t ready for the night to end.

“Waitttt, stopppp, we can’t go nowww!” You grabbed Ellie’s wrist leading her back into the darkness, straight towards the lake.

“What? You wanna hangout with me all of the sudden?”

“I- I wanna swim…” you mumbled, almost afraid to hear it come out of your mouth. One of the most important rules at Camp Stillwater was no swimming after dark. Ellie almost gasped hearing you propose such a mischievous idea.

“Rulebreaker! Rulebreaker!” she chanted, almost falling over with laughter. Inside though, Ellie was kicking her feet at the thought of having a late night swim with her favorite girl.

“Come on Els, you’re the one who told me to live a little. Pleaseeee!!” You bat your long lashes like a cartoon character but there was no need to beg as Ellie was already on board. She loved corrupting you.

“I’ll race you!!” She shouted before dashing through the trees, kicking up dirt with each long stride. Of course she turned it into a competition, and you bolted right after her trying to catch up.

Neither of you even stopped to breathe as you reached the edge of the lake. Instead shirts, shorts, and shoes all flying off your bodies landing amongst the greenery, desperate to get your sweaty bodies into the cool, evening waters. As you dived in, a sense of euphoria washed over your body along with the deep blue ripples of H2O. Ellie’s head rose out of the water 2nd. She slicked her wet hair back and gave you a toothy smile that was to die for. You giggled at the sight, everything seeming a bit more silly while under the influence.

“Having fun princess?” she questioned, cheeks full.

“Yeah I am,” you smiled back, “I don’t think the fact that I’m breaking like 5 different rules has hit me yet.”

“Enough with the rules, let's have fun!” Ellie dove back into the water circling around your smooth legs. She took ur skin between her pointer and thumb, giving you little pinches like some sort of sea creature. You kicked and squirmed in reaction causing Ellie to shoot back up from her underwater adventure.

“Fuck off!” you shoved her bare shoulder with a teasing force. She put her hands up surrendering to your irritation. Her veiny arms glistened with lake water and your eyes wandered before getting stuck on the large tattoo adorning her forearm.

“Hey, that wasn’t there last summer.” you gestured to her.

“Yeah, uh, I got it a few months ago”

“It looks good,” you paused, “can I touch?” Ellie offered out her inked limb to you. It rested in your left hand and you used your right to trace the linework. Water droplets collected with each gentle brush of your fingertips. Goosebumps followed your delicate touch and Ellie's face turned red with enjoyment.

“S’pretty” you said, noticing a blush growing across your own face. You glanced off into the distance at the silence. The thick forest trees and bright stars urged you to take in a deep, pollution free inhale. Ellie broke the moment of zen to speak.

“Turn around.” she demanded. You obliged immediately despite her unknown intentions. You felt her hot breath on your neck and sudden skin-to-skin contact. She hooked her long fingers around your wet locks of hair, moving them across your back to one side. A chill radiated down your spine

“What are you doing Ellie?” you whispered. The closeness you shared and the now still lake, cloaked with haze, sent a hush over the both of you.

“Guess what I’m drawing” she whispered back. You scrunched up your shoulders in response to her vibrations hitting at your pulse. The feeling of her rough fingers met your back and began tracing symbols. You attempted to focus on her movements but it proved hard to decipher the message when she felt so close. Despite knowing Ellie for a long time, the two of you had never had this much prolonged touch. It ignited a feeling that you weren’t sure how to get control of. The silence hinted at your cluelessness.

“Here I’ll do it again,” she said, drawing out "I ♡ U” once more across your back.

“Fuck, I dont know. A dick?” You turned back to face Ellie questioning her with a giggle. Her face was littered with disappointment before quickly concealing it from you with a big splash of water. The tender moment was lost. She went along with your answer, lying through her teeth.

“Fine, you got me freak! It was a dick.” You splashed Ellie back harder, amused by her childish humor. The water slinging continued until you both became absolutely winded and ready to climb in bed. Oh fuck, bed...

“ELLIE, OH MY GOD, CURFEW!” you practically squealed before switching to breaststroke and heading towards land. Ellie snapped out of this little dream and followed after you.

You frantically threw on your clothes over your now soaked bra and panties. Wet spots began seeping through your shorts as you fiddled with your sneakers. Your wet feet swirled in the dirt below, caking them with the mud of your making. You vetoed the shoes and bolted towards the cabins completely barefoot. You were so focused on getting back that you hardly even noticed the branches and rocks assaulting your skin.

“FUCK WAIT UP!!” Ellie yelled, just feet behind you. As you looked back to acknowledge her request your ankle caught on a huge log that littered the forest's path. Your balance was thrown and your face went plummeting straight into the ground, hitting a dull rock on its way down. Ellie’s pace doubled as she jumped to your rescue. She fell to her knees by your side giving you support as you lifted yourself up. Looking down, your hands were dirty, stuck wood chips pressed into the skin. You dusted them off against each other, seemingly fine.

“Bro, oh my god, are you okay??” Ellie pestered, worried out of her mind.

“I think, yeah. It was honestly more embarrassing than painful.” you gave a light chuckle before looking up from the ground when suddenly a gush of liquid escaped your nose. Your finger dipped into the steady flow and you took note of the deep red now covering them.

“Just great.” you rolled your eyes. Ellie had the most concerned look on her face despite your injury being a simple bloody nose.

“We’ve gotta get you to the nurse like now!”

“Ellie chill, I’d rather not have an encounter with authority while I'm high as fuck and out past curfew.” You never thought you'd be saying that sentence.

“Fine, at least take this.” Ellie handed you a crumpled up tissue she had retrieved from her athletic shorts and you shoved it up your nose halting the flow.

Returning to the main area of the campgrounds felt like a walk of shame. You were drenched, muddy, and decorated in your own blood, and Ellie looked just as bad. Eventually the two of you reached your neighboring cabins and there waiting in between the steps of 11 and 12 was Warden Campbell. Fuck.

✄ - - - - part 1 , part 2 , part 3 - - - - masterlist - - - - ♡

709 notes · View notes

bryngmemoney · 3 months

Text

✁FASHION FLIRT✃

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

⭑story masterlist link

tw:none

Writing in between messages!!

🪡Chapter Fifteen: 8-ball

“You have to show me him!” Yuki exclaimed as you adjusted her outfit, making sure everything fit well. “Well, I could show you a picture, but he’s gonna come in right after you, so you could stay a minute extra.”

You two were referring to Megumi, as Yuki had always been one interested in starting conversation on people’s types. You were no exception. She told you that the reason she did it revealed a lot about the person without them knowing, you could see what she meant to an extent but really only she knew what she was talking about.

“Ooo, like how soon after me?” You looked at the time displayed on your phone, seeing the lock screen show the song you were quietly playing in the background for you and Yuki, as you guys were the only ones around. The numbers at the top read the time 5:50. “Like in ten minutes maybe, he said he’d be here around six.”

You backed up, asking Yuki to spin for you, seeing that everything seemed to fit well. “Does anything feel off?” “No, it’s perfect actually!”

“Great! Well that’s really all, you can go and change again, are you staying for a few?”

“Well I am curious, i’ll stick around with you for a bit.”

6:20, and Megumi was no where to be seen. “Is he running late?” Yuki asked leaning her back against the table while she sat down, facing you who was standing up, peaking out the window of the studio room to see if there was any sign of anyone walking in.

“I don’t know, he hasn’t answered the text I sent him.”

“He usually shows up on time?”

“Most of the time, there was just once where he showed up late, but that’s because of something that was happening.” You turned back to Yuki, checking your phone just once again to see if there was any sign from him. “Like how late?” You placed your phone down, sighing before answering “40 minutes..”

“Oh, wow.”

“He made up for it though!” You defended, “He took me out to dinner, it wasn’t really a date because his friend was there too, but still!” Yuki just hummed seeming amused in your story.

“Okay, i’ll wait another 10 minutes max with you then, but if he still hasn’t responded or shown up, we’re leaving.” You yawned in response, not feeling tired because it was late, but instead because this week had really exhausted you with class work. “Can’t we make it 15?”

“Listen, he’s already done something like this before, and you’re tired, just tell him not to show up and talk it out later, but if I was you i’d go and take the fattest nap ever first.”

Megumi sighed after finally finishing his project presentation for his Photo Seminar class. He really needed to try on this assignment, as his last one wasn’t the best. He didn’t fail, but he wasn’t anywhere near where he wanted or needed to be. Stressing over it he was glad to have finally finished his preparation, feeling a weight being lifted off him that is until he checked the time to be 6:38, then it was replaced with panic, remembering he had promised to meet you around six today. He looked for his phone, only to find it and see a text from you already saying you left 7 minutes ago.

Author’s Note: date with megumi officially planned🗣️‼️

tbh i think beer pong is my favorite imessage game

hope you guys enjoyed!

Taglist below, feel free to comment or dm me to be added!!

TAGLIST

@iridescentrays @gumimegz @maya-maya-56 @mamafly @lunavixia @swissy23 @coltsgf @m00nglad3-mp3 @etsukis @xosren @qtnfer @oengleli @harek89 @y-sabell-a @morgyyyyyyy @getolvr @liliumaraneae @k3lbade @aiieera @dancedancey @get0sfav @chuyasthighs0 @hyssoplampflickers @kpopanimen @sad-darksoul @vivi-loves-penguins @kasumitenbaz @talkingsperm @nymphsdomain @inlovewithlondonn @rzcnlb @enchantingkitty @fuyuzemi @lysaray @ni-ki-ismyluv @reneny @frumira @mixzimi @miralunaela @dreamxiing @p3achiee @anianurst

193 notes · View notes

sl-ut · 1 year

Text

tipsy

pairing: jake lockley x fem!reader, slight marc spector and steven grant x fem!reader (reader is in a relationship with the system)

description: y/n returns from a night out with her girls and can’t resist from how beautiful her boyfriend is.

warnings: SMUT, reader is intoxicated (just tipsy, not wasted) and kind of a bitch, mocking, oral (m receiving), shower sex, moonboys arguing

words: 3K

date posted: 18/01/23

The apartment was silent when Jake jolted awake, save for the bubbling of Gus’s fish tank and the faded roar of London’s nightlife. He groaned, neck clicking back into place as he leaned back into the desk chair, cursing at Steven for nodding off in such an uncomfortable position. His sight was fuzzy, eyes still heavy with sleep as he glanced at his surroundings; several books on Egyptology laid spread open across the top of the desk, an uncapped highlighter tossed carelessly on the floor and a series of fluorescent yellow smudges staining his fingertips. Sighing, he pushed himself away from the desk, leaving it exactly how he found it–Steven could clean up his own mess–as he reached into the cupboard for a bottle of amber whiskey.

He took three small sips from it, careful not to allow himself to feel any sort of strong effects from the alcohol, as he always did when Y/n went out with her friends, always prepared to go pick her up in the early hours of the morning if he needed. He glanced at the clock on the oven, squinting to read the bright green letters.

3:36 AM.

His eyes immediately shot over to the bed, alarmed when he found the blankets in the same haphazardly made fashion that Steven had left them in as he rushed out the door to work; the boys had quickly learned to do so in order to avoid a lecture from their girlfriend.

“Damn it Steven, you were supposed to stay awake until she got home,” He swore as he turned to meet Steven’s snarky stare in the reflection of the window.

I’m sorry, but she’s not normally out this late, Steven huffed, Usually a night out has her home and in bed by midnight.

Jake, He turned his head to find Marc in the reflection of Gus’s tank, He's right, she should be home by now.

Panic arose in his chest. Quickly, he abandoned the bottle of whiskey on the desk as he crossed the small studio apartment, forcing himself through the closed bathroom door. He called her name frantically, catching Steven once again in the bathroom mirror.

I’m sure she’s alright, maybe she called after I nodded off.

Jake nodded, turning into the bedroom and pausing. The personal cell phone that they all shared was not in its usual place on the bedside table, nor was it in the pants that Steven had worn to work that day, or small pocket inside his satchel. Jake ignored the Brit’s yelling of discontent as he watched him dump the contents of his brown leather bag on the floor, searching through the mess of papers and granola bar wrappers.

“Where the hell did you leave it, Steven?”

He stopped in his tracks at the sound of a key shakily being jammed into the lock, trained eyes watching as the lock began to turn and the door slowly creaked open, and finally letting out a breath of air as he watched his girlfriend stumble over the threshold of the apartment.

“Helloooooo,” She sang out, jumbled giggled falling from her lips, “I’m here, somebody come love me, please!”

Jake shook his head as he stifled his chuckle, stepping forward and into the dim lighting provided by Steven’s desk lamp. His eyes did a quick scan over her body, searching for any sign of blood or injury, though the only sign of a struggle was the long run in her tights and her lack of shoes.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of him, though a mischievous grin spread across her cheeks as she leaned across the back of the couch, “Well hey there, big boy.”

He smirked, copying her posture as he rested his shoulder against one of the many vertical beams. He could tell by the way that she was looking at him that she was attempting to figure out exactly who she was talking to. Her eyes flickered over to the desk, taking in the dishevelled appearance of the books and the man who had once been sitting there.

“Are you just gonna stand there?”

He nodded at her, refusing to speak so that she would need to guess which one of the three it was. On a regular day, it would be easy for her, but in her state it might have been more difficult.

“Well,” she slid forward to stand in front of the desk, “These are all Steven’s books here, but from the looks of them,” she fingered at the crumpled and folded pages before glancing over her shoulder at him, “And you, he fell asleep.” She turned, pushing the books back so that she could boost herself onto the edge of the wooden desk, “But Steven doesn’t drink whiskey.”

Jake nodded once more as she gazed at him through hooded eyes, slowly fluttering her lashes in a manner that she knew would have any of them weak in the knees. He shifted, crossing his arms over his chest to mock the way that Marc might stand.

“Hi Jake.”

He scoffed, dropping his arms as he crossed the room to stand right in front of her. He allowed her to tug him closer, wrapping her legs around his waist and sliding her hands over his arms to knead his biceps gently.

“How’d you know it wasn’t Marc?”

She smirked up at him, leaning closer to whisper into his ear, “You didn’t look grumpy enough.”

His head rolled back as a hearty laugh rumbled out of his chest, growing even deeper as Marc shouted in protest and Steven agreed with her.

“Oh,” He rested his hand on his belly, “He didn’t like that, princesa.”

She shrugged, leaning forward to nudge his nose with her own, “He can punish me for it later. But for now…” Her hands slid down his arms, around his back and landed just above his bum as she tightened her legs around him, “I’m all yours.”

He allowed her to press a warm, sloppy kiss to his awaiting lips, but didn’t allow it go any further as she began to wiggle against him.

“We were worried about you,” He told her, “You’re usually home a lot earlier.”

“I know,” She shrugged, “I called and texted.”

“I couldn’t find the phone,” He admitted.

She raised a brow as she glanced down, nodding in the direction of where the phone was almost entirely covered in scattered paper, save for the corner.

“Well apparently I didn’t look quite as hard as I could have.”

“Apparently not.”

Where are her shoes?

“What happened to your shoes?” He asked, both genuinely concerned and hoping to change the subject from his failure to find a scarcely hidden cell phone.

“I took them off.” She shrugged, “I think Jenny has them.”

Now what if she had stepped on a needle or-or a sharp rock?

Check her feet, they might be bleeding.

Jake did as Marc instructed, stepping away and unwrapping himself from her limbs so that he could inspect her feet. They were dirty, of course, and the sheer fabric around the bottoms of her feet was torn up. There appeared to have been a few scrapes from the sidewalk, but the worst of the injuries were the two large busted blisters on each of her heels, oozing blood and various other fluids.

“Shit, cariño.” Jake rushed to the bathroom, returning a moment later with the first aid kit.

“That’s why I took ‘em off.” She shrugged, leaning back on her palms and allowing him to care for her feet, flinching as his fingers touched the swollen areas around the blisters.

He sat in the unsteady office chair, carefully pulling her feet into his lap and tugging at the tights, “Can I rip these?”

She barked out a laugh, “Now you’re asking? You’ve ripped a lot of my nicer things off of me without any notice.”

He grinned up at her, ignoring the heat that grew in the tips of his ears at her lewdness. One thing that he always appreciated about these nights out was that she always lost all shyness and reservation the moment that a single drop of alcohol touched her tongue.

“You certainly didn’t mind all those other times.”

“That’s because you rocked my world right afterwards. You gonna do that now?”

He glanced down, not ignorant to the way that his pants grew tighter at her words.

She’s drunk, Steven argued, Don’t take advantage of her.

“You’re drunk,” He noted, tearing the material away from her feet and beginning to dab at the open sores.

“Tipsy,” She corrected, “And horny. Please?”

He shook his head softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her kneecap, “Tomorrow, cariño.”

Y/n groaned, “I don’t want it tomorrow.”

He raised his brow as he finished cleaning her heels, “Oh really? I’ll keep that in mind. Now come on, let’s go to bed.”

She shook her head, pushing past him–making sure to bump his shoulder as she did so–and pausing in the bathroom doorway, “I need to shower.”

He sighed, carefully packing the first-aid kit back up and leaving it on the desk before making his way over to the bed. He leaned back against the headboard, glancing over to the partially closed bathroom door, only allowing him to see the vanity, though the mirror allowed him to see the figure he’d been longing for.

He watched the reflection as she carefully peeled herself free of the ruined tights before reaching for the zipper on the side of her dress. His breathing became laboured as he watched each article to fall away, leaving her bare to the world as the mirror began to gloss over with steam.

Go for it, Marc advised, If she’s really that mad about it then she’s definitely not that drunk. She’s never this unreasonable when she’s drunk.

Don’t, Steven argued, She’ll get over it.

Jake groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly as the two argued in his mind, “Shut up, both of you. I can’t even hear myself think.”

He pondered for a moment, then finally made his decision.

The bathroom was frosted in steam, Jake’s body temperature skyrocketing as he stepped inside. He glanced down at the pile of discarded clothing on the floor, withholding a groan as he recognized the familiar pair of pink lace panties that had been thrown on top, carefully dropping his own clothes on top.

The curtain prevented him from spotting any details, but he could faintly make out her figure as she stood beneath the pounding stream of hot water. She did not seem surprised to hear the curtain run quietly along the track as he stepped in, refusing to turn to face him as he stepped into the stream as well, wrapping his arms carefully around her waist and holding her back to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” He murmured into her neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake, “I don’t wanna take advantage of you, mi amor.”

She was frustrated with him, but she simply couldn’t avoid the way that she slumped into his embrace so easily. She sighed, tilting her head back to rest against his shoulder as their eyes met, a silent understanding.

“You wouldn’t be,” She argued softly, “But it’s okay.”

He kissed her lips softly, one hand coming up to grasp at her hair and help her to remove the remaining suds of shampoo. He pushed her gently to stand a bit further from him, allowing him to run a generous amount of conditioner through the ends of her hair. When he was finished, she turned, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and pressing herself against him.

“I love you,” She whispered into his shoulder, but he heard nonetheless.

“Yo también te amo angel.”

He felt the corners of her lips turn up against his flesh as she glanced up at him, wickedness clear in her eyes.

“What are you–oh!”

He gasped as her hand moved down, wrapping firmly around his length, which had been unabashedly erect against her thigh as they embraced, proving to her that he truly did want her.

“Let me do you,” She whispered to him, beginning to administer slow pumps, “That’s all. Please, Jakey.”

NO!

Looks like she’s going to either way, bud. May as well enjoy it.

She kissed him softly, taking his eager response to her as permission. Cautious not to slip, she lowered herself to kneel in front of him, gazing up at him through her lashes as she carefully dragged her tongue up the bottom of him, cupping his sack in her slick palm.

He groaned, leaning back against the wall in submission to her. She giggled, pressing the softest of kisses to his flesh before finally taking as much of him into her mouth as she could manage. Jake choked on his own spit, one hand carefully finding the nape of her neck to support her movements while the other ran through his own locks, smoothing the wet curls out of his face so they couldn’t obstruct his view.

“Baby-shit,” His hips stuttered forward, his tip grazing the back of her throat.

Her mouth curved around him, though she did not pause or slow her movements to respond with some witty comment, as he knew she had wanted to.

Hey!

His eyes snapped up, finding Steven staring back at him in the reflection of the stainless steel shower head.

“W-what now?” He stammered out, not noticing the way that she glanced up at him, but didn’t stop; she was more than accustomed to the boys talking and arguing with one another while she was having sex with one of them.

Shut the water off! I don’t even wanna look at the bill we’re gonna get this month.

Jake almost laughed, hell, he probably would have if he hadn’t been balls-deep in his girlfriend’s mouth. Reaching over, he grasped the handle and turned the water off before turning back to watching her. She raised a brow, a silent question.

“Steven complained about the water bill,” He explained, groaning as she choked slightly around him as a small laugh vibrated around her body.

He pressed on the back of her neck, prolonging the feeling of her choking around him for a few moments before pulling her back and hauling her up to her feet. His lips met hers in a furious kiss, tongues intertwining and teeth gnashing as he grasped at her thighs, carrying her out of the shower and dropping her onto the countertop as if she were a doll.

Eagerly, she spread her legs, grinding against him. He pulled away, moving down her body in hopes of returning the favour, though he was stopped by her, grasping his chin tightly and pulling him back up.

“No, no,” She gasped, “I need you. Please, I just need–”

“It’s okay,” He soothed, pulling her to the edge of the counter and lining himself up, “I got you, I got you.”

He slid into her easily, her folds sopping with arousal. Another perk of these nights out was that she was always so ready for him, and was always so responsive to his touch. He laughed as she squirmed against him, crying out louder than she normally would as his tip kissed her cervix.

Y/n rocked against him, meeting his every thrust without fail and shivering as her clit continued to be tickled by the dark curls on his pubis. Her arms wound around him, nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in his muscular back as she gripped him for dear-life.

“Jake,” she gasped, “I’m not gonna last long.”

“I know,” He grunted, hands grasping her bum to pull her into his thrusts even more, “Me neither, princesa.”

“I love you,” She cried out over and over as if it were some spell that she might have been using to bewitch him–that was the only way that Jake could explain how he was so easily manipulated by her every whim and became so enthralled by her simple presence.

“I love you,” He panted, “I fucking love you.”

His mouth took her lips, absorbing every sigh and moan that dared escape and committing them to memory. He wanted to encase every little bit of her being within himself, consume anything that she was willing to offer, especially her jerking movements and desperate whines as she tightened around him, spilling her release all over his member as he struggled to hold on.

“Come on,” She urged him, eyes hooded and hazy as she came down from her high, “Jake, come on. Please give it to me.”

Her words were enough, his hips stuttering through his final few thrusts before white-hot pleasure exploded within him. He groaned out loudly, following through with a few gentle movements to work himself through it before he slipped out.

They remained there for a few moments, wrapped in each other’s arms as they both came down, melting into one another and whispering sweet nothings. She kissed his shoulder softly, then reached up to meet his lips once more, allowing herself to force every ounce of love she had for him to flow through the embrace.

He chuckled when she pulled away, “Aren’t you glad I said no now?”

She shook her head, “You only made yourself suffer, I could have woken up Marc or Steven to do me the second you fell asleep. I was getting it one way or another.”

He frowned at her, pinching her thigh in retaliation, “You think that either of them could do what I just did?”

Watch it, amigo. I could have done her twice as hard as you did.

Jake grinned at his reflection over her shoulder turning back to his girlfriend, “By the way, Marc called you unreasonable.”

HEY!

#jake lockely imagine #jake lockely smut #jake lockely x reader #marc spector #marc spector fic #steven grant #steven grant x reader #moon knight #jake lockely fic #marvel #mcu #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagine

1K notes · View notes