#There was so much more. this was an opener.
Text
Freak On The Cam! - C.K.
Synopsis. Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, camgírl! reader, spítting, Choso has rings and piercings, first times + loss of vírginity (Choso’s), oral (fem receiving), exhíbitionism, DOWN BAD Choso, cúmplay, use of “ma’am”, Sukuna is a menace, víbrators, light jealousy (Choso’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 6.5k
A/N. Meant to post this last week but hehe here we are. Also I’ve GOT to stop using Unc-kuna so much lmao.
“Wanna see a movie or do you wanna make one?”
Choso was screwed. Completely and utterly screwed. So badly, in fact, that he might as well just wipe off every trace of himself online and go into hiding - preferably forever.
All because he had been so stupidly careless as to leave his phone unattended for exactly 1 minute and 47 seconds around Sukuna.
In the time it took Choso to raid the kitchen for his favorite brand of cereal, his uncle had managed to open his Twitter (because “that’s where all the juicy stuff is”), stalk your pretty page at the very top of his last searched, and send a god-awful pick-up line that would probably get him blocked. Or worse.
Damnit, he knew he shouldn’t have made his password Yuji’s birthday.
“Ya should be thankful I didn’t DM her myself, brat.” Sukuna chuckles, not even a shred of regret in his tone, way too amused with how Choso was frantically trying to tackle the phone out of his hands. “What’s the harm in asking? Such a pretty camgirl, n’ you look like you need some good pu-”
“She’s also my classmate.”
“Kinky. Even better.”
No, not “even better”. God, this must be some kind of cosmic joke, and Choso just wished the Earth would swallow him up whole right now - and maybe his phone along with it too.
It had taken him almost a whole semester to work up the courage to just sit next to you during your shared lecture. All gorgeous with your bright smiles, and your smart mouth. And Choso was very much content to admire you from afar - and from behind his phone screen, of course.
Never following, never liking. Never tipping you off as one of your hundreds of thousands of fans.
And now, not only had Sukuna revealed that he’d found your secret Twitter account - the one with those sinful little clips of yourself that had Choso opening the app way too much - he’d also propositioned you. Like some creep.
“Ugh. This is why women hate you.” Still desperately grappling, he spits out more to himself than Sukuna at this point. “B-besides, she’s never even gonna respond any-”
Ping!
And the Itadori household had never been quieter. Never, on a random Saturday during spring break. Never, as the two men crowd the phone, jaws dropped and staring wordlessly at the singular message on screen. You.
“Let’s make one ;)”
---
“So s’not a stream this time, jus’ a video. Is that okay?” You hum from your desk, glancing at the man seated on your bed as he hastily nods along with whatever you said. Looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.
Weird.
It had only been a few days of back and forth since you’d gotten that first text - the one that you’d honestly thought about blocking like the thousands of others. But there was just something about it that made you stop, something that had you clicking on the profile to delve a little deeper.
It hit you like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact - that this was someone in your class. Someone you knew. How the hell did he even find this account?
You knew Choso as that sweet - albeit slightly gloomy - kid that sat next to you, always quick with his answers and even quicker to look away from your gaze, no matter how hard you tried to spark a conversation. You’d just guessed he was afraid of you or something.
So nothing could’ve prepared you for how ridiculously attractive he looked in that profile picture, all smug grins and dark locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner. Shirtless, giving just a peak of- oh god, were those nipple piercings?
Could you really be blamed? You just had to have him.
But, here - it was like he was just itching to run away at the first chance he got.
“You’re not held at gunpoint, y’know.” you giggle at how he startles at the mere sound of your voice. The mattress dips as you stop fiddling with the camera to sit next to him, thighs flush against his muscled ones. “Are you sure you want-”
“Yes.”
It seems that both of you were surprised by the abrupt response. Too quick. Choso clears his throat, cheeks flaring as he tries to dredge up some semblance of dignity, he drawls lightly. “I mean- Yes.”
You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - nothing quite like the suave impression his pick-up line gave off.
But so irresistible just the same.
“Well…Cho.” you bat your lashes, voice dropping to a seductive whisper - not too heavy, for now at least. “Then why won’t you even look at me?”
Alas, Choso was not a strong man.
Maybe at your words, maybe at that playful little nickname you gave him, he’s finally raising those dark eyes to look at you. Twinkling with- fear? anticipation? A flicker of something so dangerous as his gaze sweeps greedily over that tight dress you put on just for this occasion.
Choso tries to ignore how sinfully it hugs all your curves. Or the way it would look a million times better on the floor.
This was absolute torture.
And God he thinks he could pass out right then and there as you lean in closer. Too close. The temperature in the room suddenly increasing by about 10 degrees as you purr, tone careful and balanced. “Much better. And now…”
His breathing becomes heavier, eyes flickering downwards. Once. Twice.
And you know you’ve got him in the palm of your hand.
“...all you gotta do is touch me.”
Yeah, if Choso thought he was going to pass out before then he definitely wasn’t ready for those dangerous little words. Ones that have him shaken right to the core - fighting that urge to just take you how he’s imagined all those lonely nights.
“You- huh?” he lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he crosses his legs with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, desperately trying to will away the blood rushing straight to his throbbing cock right now.
But how could he? Not when you only shift closer, barely even a hair’s breadth between you two - relishing in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. Such an adorable pout playing on your lips as you mutter, “Do you not want to?”
And he did. Oh, how he did - has been imagining it for the past five months, in fact. And Choso lets you know, a little twenty times, actually, as the words spill panickedly from his lips.
“-idiot trying to set me up and I’ve been dreaming of fucking you for so long but I’m just-” Heat rushes to Choso’s cheeks, as he abruptly shuts the fuck up. But it’s too late - the damage has been done.
You give him a wry smile, lips mere inches from his ear. “Just what?”
His breath hitches, muscles rippling so deliciously as he shudders beneath your touch. “I’m a-” Choking out - as if it physically hurts to admit - “-virgin.”
Oh.
Now, you might’ve expected many things - but certainly not this. Though, looking at the cute flush on the tips of his ears, all the way down to those big, needy eyes, you don’t mind. Not one bit.
With one, quick glance at the rolling camera - your mouth is moving before your mind. “Do you want me to…do something about it?”
And then it’s like something snapped.
You don’t know who leans in first, just that Choso’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - how could you not?
Because goddammit it was always those pretty lips that you were staring at whenever he was spouting off answers in class. You just never expected he’d be kissing you back with such an infectious desperation.
No sooner are you thinking about how sweet his lips are before he’s pulling away with a soft sigh, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. Your neck. Back to your lips like he wanted everything and anything.
You gasp licks a long, languid stripe up your neck - maybe at how utterly obscene it felt, maybe at that sharp cold feeling that makes you flinch. Fuck - a tongue piercing? The noise makes Choso’s mouth drop into a quick oh! surging forward to claim your lips again. Addicted.
Only to be stopped by your hands cupping his face, letting out a pained grunt at how he was so close. Just a hair’s breadth away from your lips.
“Cho~ Open your mouth, baby.” you whisper, hotly.
And he looked so pretty - dark hair askew, lower lip swollen and quivering with need, brows furrowing because he wanted more of your taste. But he obeys, of course he does, Choso thinks he’ll do anything you asked. And lo and behold, sitting right there in the middle of his tongue was a pretty silver piercing.
You just can’t help but thumb open his mouth further, looking him right in the eyes as you spit in his mouth. Once. Twice.
“Bet no one else has done this before, huh?” Grinning at how sinfully Choso’s eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste, “Kiss me proper now.”
God, you were so good at throwing away whatever was left of his poor sanity. And it’s all that’s said before his kiss-bitten lips are crashing into yours again.
“No. No one’s hah- done that before. Only you.” he’s panting into your open mouth, swirling his tongue with yours. “F-fuck only you. Only you only you-”
You barely even realize the way you’re on his lap now, sitting so prettily there that Choso half-deliriously wonders whether he should take a picture. Mind spinning too much with his throbbing erection under your drenched panties, a damp little patch at his fat tip. So hot and heavy already.
“Cho, do you want me to-”
“Yes, ma’am.”
You certainly don’t have to be told twice - especially with that little nickname. Fiddling with his belt, you’re so hazy with want - the need to taste Choso, to see if the rest of him was as sweet as his lips - that you almost miss the look of confusion that flashes across his face.
You bat your lashes at him almost-innocently, “You alright?” And Choso thinks he could cum right there and right now at the sight. If he wasn’t currently battling for his life, that is.
“Yeah, s’jus’- what I wanted hah- was to…” His hands sneak down, cupping your heated pussy through your drenched panties. “-taste her. ”
“Oh?”
“Are y’gonna teach me how?”
Oh. Fuck.
You know you’re fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.
Only moments later, Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress, face-to-face with your sloppy pussy. So mean with the way he was pinning your hips down with one hand, all but ripping your panties off with the other.
You feel his piercing before his tongue. Both the hot and cold so maddening on your cunt as Choso licks long, lazy stripes up your puffy folds - dragging his hot tongue all the way from your base. Just grazing your swollen clit.
“Teach me- fuck fuck-” words muffled and slurring together, vibrations going straight to your pussy. “Use me. Use me how you want.”
You’re threading your fingers through his dark locks before you even realize it, grinding your sloppy cunt all over his waiting mouth. “Quirk your tongue like- ngh-” Angling him close enough so he bullies his soft tongue into your tight pussy. Piercing massaging all the right places. “Fuck-”
“Like this?”
“Sh-shit,” you gasp, nodding deliriously. “S’too ngh- good.”
And by God, did you mean it.
“Yeah? Y’like this?” he’s groaning, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. “Can feel you clenching around me. Shit shit shit, you love this, huh? So slutty on camera for it?”
Getting wetter and wetter by the second as his tongue roams for that one-
“Oh! F-fuck, Cho. Right hngh- there. Deeper-”
Ah, found it.
Choso grins as you tug on his soft strands, you can feel it on your throbbing pussy. Pushing your legs all the way till they’re at your tits to hit that little spot each and every time. Again and again. Eyes glassy, torn between devouring that slutty expression on your face and how fucking drenched you were.
“Shit, baby,” his words are so strained now, like his sanity was dancing away at each flick of his tongue. “You’re drooling everywhere. See? Show the camera now.”
You don’t have to look. Because you can feel it.
Can feel how wet his mouth is, just glistening with slick and saliva. Trailing all the way down his chin - to his wrist - only second to how sloppy your dripping cunt was. It was like he was getting messy on purpose, like a little reminder to himself that shit this was you and he was eating out your pretty cunt to insanity-
“Oh my god, think m’hooked.” Tongue dragging all over your swollen folds, catching on his piercing. “Think your pretty lil’ pussy’s hah- driving me crazy. Ruined me, Fuck-”
And it’s so embarrassing how he’s talking you through it, grinning at every lil’ whine and whimper that leaves your mouth. You were acting all shy right now in a way that makes Choso’s cock twitch so painfully. He barely even notices, though, with the way he was so drunk off your pussy.
So messy - unable to decide between rolling his tongue over your ravaged clit and dipping into your sloppy hole. Too much. In and out in and-
“Faster.”
He goes faster.
“H-harder.”
He goes harder.
Anything and everything for you - to keep those pretty moans falling from your lips, walls getting tighter and tighter around his tongue. And Choso might just consider himself a man addicted.
“Can you ngh- cum f’me, baby?” You flinch as he spits out the words into your cunt. Harsh. Fucked-out. Sounding just as delirious and breathless as you. “Cum f’me please. Wan’ to taste y’on my tongue. Please. Fuck- need it so bad. So bad.”
You’re so caught up in Choso’s pussydrunk little babbles that you barely even realize when you’re cumming. Just that you’re letting out a strangled scream of his name, dragging your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.
And he has never seemed more blissed out. Long gone is that nervous little expression usually on his face around you, Choso looked like he could be suffocated in-between your legs right now and love it. Hope for it, even.
He tells you that, of course. As soon as you’re blinking back your vision, blood still roaring in your ears. Delicate strings of slick snapping where he parts from your quivering cunt, lips swollen and glossed so prettily with your sweet sweet juices.
“Baby, y’think the video of lesson one came out good?”
Oh. Shit, what have you done?
---
That certainly wasn’t the last time you saw Choso - or the last time you had him in front of a camera, either.
A few weeks later, you found yourself with an entire album for the man - a hidden treasure trove under the simple name of “Cho <3”. Most of the videos favorited, all sorted so tediously in a way that showed you spent an obscene amount of time looking at all the ways he ruined you.
So filthy on camera that you always wondered whether it was the same person in the sheets and in class, texting Choso for later. Just to confirm.
But embarrassingly, only some of these videos made their way onto your Twitter account - with Choso’s pretty face largely out of the frame. The two of you hadn’t ventured into streams yet either, opting to hide him away. Because, okay, maybe you were slightly jealous of other people seeing him - but it was really hard not to be when he looked like that.
In spite of all that, you’d still gained a casual hundred thousand more followers since his appearance - ones who always commented on your solo streams asking where your “hot emo bf” was.
Comments you’d pointedly ignore, because, hell, you wished he was here on-stream helping you get off, too. Yet despite the endless flirting and videos, Choso actually hadn’t made it further than actually holding a full conversation with you. And you wanted more.
For all you know, you might just be one of his many trysts - and it was just for the videos, right? You get the content, he gets the experience? A win-win situation, so why have you never felt more like such a loser?
Such a loser the way you’ve already lost count of the “lessons” but still haven’t gotten to feel him - to fuck him the way you wanted just yet.
“S’alright if I take this, right, ma’am?” He smirks during one such session, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt. Dangling your drenched panties like a badge of honor, flimsy and soaked with your sweet sweet juices. “S’alright if I-” And he can’t even finish the sentence. Your jaw drops as Choso raises the thin fabric to his face, breathing in your essence like a man possessed.
Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-
“You’re so filthy, Cho-” you manage to choke out once you find your voice. Squirming on his bed like such a slut for him. “Was the innocent thing just an act?”
“Nope.” he pops the p, licking lewd little circles on your neck, thumbing open your puffy folds to watch in amazement at the way you glisten and clamp around his fingers. Eyes flickering briefly to the recording phone in his hand. “But we gotta give ‘em a good show, huh?”
Right, you’d forgotten about the camera. But none of that matters anyway because-
Intensity setting 2.
“You’re so mean, too.”
“Am I?” he grins, teeth grazing along your racing pulse. “I think you taught that to me, baby. Shit, lesson 8 it was?”
God, he was addictive.
Choso’s having way too much fun playing around with the intensity setting of the bullet vibrator shoved inside your ravaged cunt. Sending quick, methodical vibrations all along your pulsing clit. In time with the breathless moans leaving your kiss-bitten lips, and it’s all you can to call out for- more? Mercy? Both?
Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-
“God, you’re so perfect. Shit, so messy f’me.” he groans, and you could tell that the video wasn’t going to be uploaded anyway. Too shaky, focusing in and out of Choso’s fingers. Knuckle-deep and pumping in and out of your filthy hole. Relentless. “Almost makes me wanna show off to an actual audience.”
“Maybe I want to, too.” you muse, shifting at his heated gaze. Dangerously pressing your thumb over those nipple piercings you’ve gotten to know so well lately - as if to support your point. God you wish he’d take off that snug shirt.
Intensity setting 3.
“That so?”
And no matter how many times Choso’s ruined you on camera - and watched the videos over and over afterwards - he always thought they weren’t enough to capture your perfection.
“Such a slut f’me, baby.” To capture the exact moment in which your wet lips fall into a soft little oh! when he massages your walls in time with the pulsing vibrator. To capture that absolutely sinfully excited little glint in your eyes as he ruts his clothed erection against your pussy. “Y’always this dirty?” Quickly turning into a look of slight panic at the sudden jingle of keys from the front door.
“Yo, brat. Where the fuck are ya?”
Ah, there he was, the reason that Choso usually locked his bedroom door whenever you were over, even if he was home alone.
Intensity setting 4.
As the silence continues, so does Choso’s abuse on your cunt. In fact, he only gets more erratic - like he wanted you to cum. Needed you to cum right now, right here in front of Sukuna, footsteps only growing louder. Nearer.
“Cho-” you fight to get out the words. “He’s hah-.”
Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-
“Can’t speak? That’s cute.” he coos, voice way too relaxed for someone whose mind was reeling with the realization that he couldn’t remember if he locked the door this time, and how adorable you sounded. Enough so that it made some raw, primal part of him wanna pull down his pants and fuck you right here right now. Cockblocks and his own virginity be damned. “C’mon now, use your words like a good girl. Tell the camera.”
Cocky bastard.
Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-
“Close!” you yelp, unsure of whether you were talking about yourself or the looming Sukuna. Jaw slack, tears springing into your ears as you look up at Choso. “So close.”
God, you were addictive. And this video was definitely going in both your favorites.
“Mhm,” he hums, movements getting hastier. More desperate. “I know, ma’am.”
Intensity setting 5.
That’s all that it takes for you to cum, letting out a loud strangled moan of Choso’s name. Or, you would’ve - if it hadn’t been for the way he’s shoving two, thick fingers into your mouth.
Silencing you - and in your hazy brain you think that if this was his way of shutting you up, then you really didn’t mind. Because all you could taste was you and the cold, cold metal of his rings. Somewhat intoxicating.
“Shhhhhh.” he’s breathing out, still mindlessly grinding his hips into yours. Though, you realize with a pang that today won’t be the day you get to feel that achingly hard erection straining his pants. “These pretty moans aren’t for him, hm?”
Pressing on the back of your tongue, smirking at the way you nod tearily up at him, moans still muffled. Hell, do you even know how sexy you’re being right now.
“Mhm, all f’me. All for fuckin’ me.”
Knock! Knock! Knock!
“Why the fuck are you locked up in here on a Saturday night?” Sukuna sounds impatient, but not surprised. Probably imagining all sorts of dorky things his nephew was doing to hole himself up in his room. “Come out n’ get this takeout- what’s left of it anyways.”
And with that, it’s like the magic is over.
Your high only just bating before Choso’s hurriedly ending the recording on a hazy still of your disappointed pout, cursing Sukuna for his impeccable timing.
Slightly concerned about the door being broken down and someone else seeing you in all your fucked-out glory, he hastily moves to grab the spare cloth by his bedside. Cleaning you up with hushed promises of “sending the recording later”, and “s’alright, he’ll be gone soon.”
Close. You were so close.
A win-win situation - but you’ve never felt like more of a loser.
---
“By God, I never thought he’d get the balls to do it.”
You yelp in surprise at the deep voice from behind you, whirling with a defiant brandish of Choso’s (your?) keys. He’d given them to you a few lessons ago, saying it would make it easier for you to come and go from his apartment as you pleased. Which - to you - felt dangerously like something a boyfriend would say-
But that wasn’t important right now.
What was important was the older man suddenly towering over you right outside Choso’s front door. Big arms crossed over his chest, that leering smirk clashing with his pink hair. “I knew it was odd that brat had a pair of heels by the door.”
Shit. Sukuna.
Ryomen awfully-wingman-his-nephew Sukuna.
“Spill.” At your confused head tilt, he plows on. “Spill the tea. I need new blackmail on my lil’ nephew. How badly did he have to beg you to go out with him?”
You don’t know what was more bizarre - what he was saying or the way he actually pulls out his Notes app as if hanging on to your every word.
“I-It’s because of you.” you manage to choke out, unsure of what Choso has told his family about you. Eyes flitting between him and the door right behind you, sounding your very best not to sound just as guilty as you felt. “You’re the reason we have this weird…thing.”
A beat of silence passes. One. Two.
And just as you’re beginning to wonder whether you’ve broken Choso’s infamous uncle, he throws his head back and laughs. Laughs, right in your face, sounding like he’d just heard the funniest punchline in the world.
“Oh that’s hilarious.” he exclaims, wiping a mock tear. Cackles dying down as if he was suddenly aware that maybe Choso would hear and walk in on this impromptu interrogation. “Damn, that awful pick-up line is why you started fuckin’? I thought it’d get that sap blocked so he’d stop stalking your account so much.”
“No, we…” you hesitate, mind reeling with what Sukuna just admitted, and how bad it would really be that you’re divulging your sex life to a relative of the guy you’re fucking. Before thinking fuck it, might as well confide in someone. “...we’re just doing stuff for-” putting up air quotes. “-content.”
“Just content?”
“Just content.”
“And you like that fool?”
Your face burns at how glaringly obvious it apparently was, “...Yes.”
This seemingly sets Sukuna off on another wave of uncontrollable laughter. “Ohh, thanks for the blackmail on that emotionally-constipated brat.” Typing away on what you assume to be his Notes, he promptly turns to walk away, “See ya around, doll.”
“Wait!” you call after in confusion, making him stop and raise a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to like- I don’t know, give me advice for your nephew or something - like a good uncle?”
Scoffing, “Who said I was a good uncle?” He leans in ever-so-slightly, “Jus’ rock his world on camera or somethin’ n’ ask him out right in the middle.” Satisfied with being enough of a decent samaritan for today, he walks back with a half-wave, “He’d listen to whatever you say anyway.”
Oh. Is that so?
And Sukuna probably meant it as some joke. Something to tease the both of you with - but it’s something that sets the gears going off inside your head. Something that had you ignoring Sukuna’s slightly panicked, “Jus’ not too soon, I needa bully him with this first.”
---
You didn’t listen to Sukuna’s little plea, of course. Because only a few days later you’d steeled yourself to finally send that one text you knew would change your relationship with Choso. For the good, hopefully.
You: 9pm my place. Get ready, cuz this time we’re gonna be live ;)
Cho <3: :0
And with that, you’d thrown your phone on the bed, jittery about later tonight. Browsing through your wardrobe for that one set of barely-there lingerie in his favorite shade of pink. Hey, you could never be too prepared, right?
Nothing could’ve prepared Choso for this moment - absolutely nothing at all.
He might’ve just died and gone to heaven the very moment he read that dangerous text - finally inviting him to join one of your streams. The ones that he’d always watch in the safety of his bedroom, lights dimmed, pants bunched around his ankles.
Cock just achingly hard in his fist while he wished he was with you behind the camera. Getting you off so much better than any sextoy would. Just forcing those pretty moans from your lips - and everyone else could see that. Wish it was them ruining you instead.
Alas, it was only a dirty little fantasy.
Until now, that is.
slvt4u: Holy shit boyfriend reveal, about time.
uniwhore: THIS is the hottie from Twitter?????
itsgenslut: idfc just fuck
“Nervous?” you smirk, looking down at the man sprawled so prettily on your bed. “You look just as close to an aneurysm as you were the first time. Though-” snaking your hand down, “-this is still the same as ever.”
You chuckle at the way Choso catches your lips with his, more to shut up those pathetic little moans threatening to escape him than anything. Because every glance at you in that sinful little pink bra gave Choso a mini heart attack.
“B-baby-” he gasps, grinding his clothed erection against your palms. “I wan- hah-”
“Mhm?”
And God how you’ve ruined Choso - run him so utterly dry of his sanity.
Because he’s angling your head down, piercing cold against your tongue. “Spit.”
It was like that first time had gotten him addicted. So you do - right into his waiting mouth. Jaw dropping at the way he tips his head back, back, back to let it slide so obscenely down his throat. Moaning at just a taste of you, “God, I need to f-fucking ruin you.”
And if there’s anything you’ve learned after all these months with Choso, it’s that anything he says - he does.
The words have barely left his mouth before he’s pulling your bra off, ripping your panties easily off your hips. Each and every little regret about what a shame it was thrown out the window at the first sight of your pretty pussy.
It never gets old - and Choso could never get enough of the sinful sight - your cunt so sloppy and ready for him already.
“Cho-” you whine as ringed fingertips coming up to circle your sloppy entrance. Cold. Stretching you to insanity. “S-stop teasing.”
“Yes, ma’am. But first-” shifting you around ever-so-slightly on top of him. “Gotta show off how wet y’are f’me.”
uniwhore: did he just call her “ma’am”?? Me when??
roses101: idk who i wanna be they’re both so fucking hot ugh
“Fuck, y’look so sexy from this angle. Wonder if the camera thinks so too?”
Your face slightly burns at how he was seemingly taking over your own stream. Smug bastard, you think, glancing down at Choso, red-faced, hair untied, wearing a sly grin as his eyes slide over the flurry of comments. But two can play that game.
“Cho~” fumbling with the hem of his underwear, “You’ve been holding out on me.”
A gasp leaves you involuntarily as you tug down Choso’s boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring free, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Blushed your favorite shade of pink - to match your bra - so so angry and soaked in precum.
He was so intimidatingly long - longer than any of those toys you usually brought on camera. Thick enough that it had you wondering, shit, would you even be able to take it?
“S’this a-alright?” and for all his previous confidence, Choso sounded self-conscious. Peeking at you through his long lashes.
You grin, pumping a hand up and down his swollen cock, letting his precum drip down your wrist. “S’perfect.”
“God- fuck, baby. Oh-” Choso lets out breathless little profanities as you straddle his waist, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy as you sink down in by fucking in. Slowly. “Too- much-”
Apparently too slow because no sooner have you just taken in his fat tip, squeezing and clenching around him, that Choso’s flipping the both of you over.
“M’sorry.” he breathes into your mouth as your back hits the mattress. “M’sorry m’sorry, fuck- just can’t-” fingers immediately drawing frenzied little circles on your pulsing clit to take your mind off the dizzying stretch as he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. “Can’t wait can’t wait- waited too fucking long. Want this so badly-”
You felt too good. Too perfect around him.
“Ah! Hngh- Cho, oh my god. Too- ngh-” you moan, as he starts grinding in shallow, mindless little movements just to fit himself inside. Pushing and pushing, you wondered if he even realized what he was doing.
Sounding like his sanity was dwindling away with each little thrust, “S’too big? You can take it. Fuck fuck fuck please. Need this.” Pressing all the way into your lungs. “How do you wan’ it- how do you wan’ me?”
Honestly, Choso didn’t even need to ask, because he just bottoms out - heavy balls smacking against your ass, cock swollen and throbbing inside you - that you think that you just wanted him to ruin you.
“R-ruin?” his voice breaks as he repeats - more to himself than you. Oh, shit had you said that out loud? You’re speechless as Choso throws your legs over his shoulder, dragging his swollen lips lazily across your ankle. “Yes ma’am.”
Oh. You might as well have just signed off your will.
Because then he’s fucking into your sloppy cunt. Unforgiving. A man starved because he was. Jagged, quick thrusts, splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his rock-hard cock.
“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” he pants into your open mouth, finding it so fucking difficult to find any rhythm when your tight cunt was milking him so good. “You feel so good. So messy. Ya love it like this, huh? Being hngh- watched?”
“Hngh-” you buck wildly into his body, reaching up to play coyly with his nipple piercings. Tugging and pulling lightly. “Feels too good- are- ah- are ya sure this is your first time?”
Honestly, it was a wonder Choso didn’t cum right then and there.
Tojisslvt: need someone to fuck me like this the first time
22sabi: Typing with one hand is so hard.
DaStrongest: i could fuck her so much better than than inexperienced loser
Choso throws his head back in a cruel little laugh at that last comment, something that makes you tingle all the way from your burning cheeks to your stuffed cunt. Clamping down deliciously on Choso’s unforgiving cock in a way that makes his hips and fingers stutter.
“Ya think you could fuck her better?” it takes you a second to realize he was talking to the camera and not you. Thrusts getting sloppier, getting familiar. “I’m the one that got her so messy like this.” Purposeful. Calculated. Like he was aiming for that one-
“Fuck!” you scream as he hits that magic spot. Once. And then over and over like a man possessed. Just so utterly ruining you the way you knew he could. “Cho oh my god- I can’t hah- ngh-”
The cold metal of Choso’s rings dig into your cheek softly as he turns you head to face him. God, this was the stuff of his wildest dreams.
You - teary eyed and looking up at him like such a slut. Pussy getting wetter - tighter - as he teases you in front of the camera. Torn between running away from his relentless cock and bucking up for more more more-
“Fuck no no no- Keep your legs open, baby. Don’t hah- run away from me.” his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “Don’t- need this. Need this so ba- shit.”
And he sounded so genuinely worried he’d lose the feeling of your heady cunt. Fingers bruising on your hips as he pulls you closer. Like he was trying to fuck out any and every shred of shyness out of your body.
slvt4u: Always the quiet ones.
DaStrongest: heh, fuck off. i’d make her cum so much harder.
Now, Choso was fucking you like he had a point to prove, and it was probably the only reason he hadn’t passed out from how good your pussy felt wrapped around him.
Both of you were barely-lucid at this point - and he was out of control now.
Pussy drunk thoughts unfiltered, “No one’s ever d-done this- got me hah- feeling like this.” And you had the distinct feeling he just beat you to your original goal, letting out sweet little babbles into your open mouth - though his hips were anything but.
So hard that you were sure the creases of your sheets would leave marks for tomorrow - along with his balls on your ass, your ankles on his shoulders, lips searing against yours. It was like he wanted to prove something - to prove he was good enough to- the viewers? To you?
Knowing your body well enough to hit that one spot over and over until you were sobbing. Fingers erratic on your clit.
“Cho-” you squeal, tears springing to your eyes as he only gets sloppier. “I-I’m gonna-”
“Cum?” he breathes, as if he couldn’t believe it. And fuck if you weren’t the gates of heaven spread wide open for him then he didn’t know what was. “Fucking cum. Please please- hah- f’me. Cum on m’cock n’ make them jealous. F’me- Like you’re mine.”
You barely even realize when you are. Jaw slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you see stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. God, he was gonna have to go home and rewatch this stream all over again.
“Ngh- m’cumming m’cumming oh-”
Not even realizing the way you’re dragging your nails down Choso’s sculpted back. Marking up his milky skin - and he lets you.
Loved it in fact- the way he loved you.
Your eyes go wide, and Choso knows he’s fucked up. Realizing with a jolt that words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. But it’s the way you squeeze him tighter- giving him such a gorgeous little fucked-out smile that sends him over the edge.
Sharp canines digging into the crook of your neck like he wanted to break skin, holding himself back from breaking you while he cums and cums so hard it hurt. Over and over-
“Love you- love you love you love you-” he’s muttering into the skin, unbarred. “Since I first saw hah- you. Wanted this more than fuck fuck- air that I breathe.”
His seed was oozing out of you now, painting your ravaged pussy white, dribbling down your legs. So fucking full and debauched. Thick, hot globs that were sure to stain those overpriced new sheets. But did Choso care for the mess? Not at all.
Because you were holding him so impossibly tight, pushing away the strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Whispering little praises as he fucks you through his first time. Close. Warm. Everything he ever dreamed of.
“S’everything I ever dreamed of, too, Cho.”
And he knows he’s won.
urfavslvt: Proudest nut. Want more.
uniwhore: does this mean couples content??? Pls say yes plsplspls
DaStrongest: invite me next time <3
“Thought you were embarrassed.” he licks soothingly over the bite. Voice shot, piercing smooth against his tongue. Embarrassing little confessions leaving him with each spark of electricity running through his veins. “Thought you didn’t stream w’me cuz of that- but shit. Dreamed of this f’so long. So long-”
Oh?
“Hey, Cho.” your voice rings through his hazy mind. Just enough for Choso to raise his head and meet your intoxicating, sultry gaze. Giving a sly, sidelong glance at the still-blinking camera.
“Mhm?”
“Wanna film a week’s worth of ‘movies’ in advance?”
---
Sukuna (do not answer): Oi shitty nephew, where r u Jin made me come over with (half) leftovers.
You: Sorry, not home. At the movies rn.
Sukuna (do not answer): When tf do u go to movies??
You: Since now, on a date. You probably can’t relate.
Sukuna (do not answer): Stfu n’ stop lying, a date with who? Ur body pillow?? Not like u had the balls to ask out that pretty lil’ camgirl anyway.
Haha
Right?
You: *girlfriend
Sukuna (do not answer): Huh?
You: Girlfriend.
Sukuna (do not answer): THE FUCKIN’ PICK-UP LINE WORKED??
A/N. This came out a LOT longer than expected.
Plagiarism not authorized.
#choso x reader#choso smut#choso x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo smut#choso kamo x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#choso#tonywrites#choso kamo#gojo x reader
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Can i request toji doing this to reader 👉👈
𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: YEEEEEESSSS!!! I mean–ahem–yes, you may request this delicious prompt ٩(ˊᗜˋ )و
⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - kissing/making out - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (presses and swiping) - Daddy kink - missionary position - praises - unprotected sex (no release on Toji's part, tho) - pet names (baby, mama, sweet thing, sweetie) - voice kink - Toji being a teaseing bastard, lawl - implied prior masturbation.
⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k
“Haaah…Toji—Mmmm!“
“Shhh, I’m right here, sweetie…Did’ya sleep well?”
It’s not unusual for you to be asleep when Toji returns home from work, especially when he’s been away for more than three nights.
But, fuck, when he returns home, all he can think about is having your soft frame in his starved grasp.
You lay so peacefully on his bed, your man watching the rise and fall of your figure and listening to your snore while he quietly enters the room. Once he drops his stuff down, he’ll crawl up to be atop you, emerald eyes scanning every feature of your beautiful face he wants to kiss so badly.
And the truth is that you’re just as touch starved as he is, left here to await his return while he’s doing God-knows-what (you’re unaware of his assassin gig) and worrying about his absence. But when you awake to the smooth sensation of your lips being pressed on, you don’t scream or holler; far from that. Instead, you kiss back and open your sleepy eyes to see the grown man above you.
“To…ji?” Your voice is strained with exhaustion yet curious.
The dark-haired man shushes you with his lips onto yours, moaning with you while his hands spread your legs for him to lay comfortably between. “Missed ya, mama,” his gruff voice so low that your stomach immediately flips at the erotical tone.
“I missed you, too,” you admit in between smooches, and you melt when he cups your cheeks to keep your face with his. “Missed you so…Hmmm…”
More kisses have you relax, his scared mouth trailing down to suck on the skin of your neck to listen to more of your sweet gasps. “Yeah? My baby missed me?” You chew your lips as he whispers in your ear, and your hips instinctively move at the motion of his hand, palming the groin of your shorts. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout me while I was gone? ‘Cuz I sure was.”
“Yesss,” your answer slurred by the lick and kiss to your helix. “Yes, I ha—Aaah!”
His hand sneaks inside the hem of your shorts, not surprised to meet your bare cunt with his fingers. Your wetness instantly coats the rough pads of his fingertips as he nestles between your labia. “Thinkin’ ‘bout me so much that y’re all wet like this?” You can practically hear the grin uplifting the scar on his lips. “Hmm? Ya miss Daddy so much that you touch y’rself while I’m gone, huh?”
Your eyes are sewn shut at the sensation of your folds being fingered, and your lips ajar once Toji inserts his middle finger. Wiggling the digit around, scratching your walls with the blunt of his fingertips, it has you wail softly. “Yessss, missed you—Oooh! S..So much, Daddy…”
“Heh, dirty lil’ thing,” Toji’s finger goes faster, and the raven-haired man enjoying your shrieks gets a little louder, and your breath halts at his ring finger teasing your entrance. “Tell Daddy how much ya missed me.”
You arch your back at the insert of the other digit; your fatigue vanishes with every graze of the two fingers. “Haaah…Miss how you kiss me—Ahh!” He toys with your clit with the brush of his thumb. “H-How good you–Mmnn!–make me feel…” He kisses your forehead; the gentleness contrasting with the salacious squelches from your shorts causes a haze.
“Yeah? Ya like when I make ya feel good?” His fingers go faster, and the presses on your clitoris go frequently. “Just like?”
“Mmnoooh,” Toji kisses you again, this time more passionately with tongue exploring your mouth; you twitch around his digits as they curl and rub. “I…Love it!”
Toji chuckles. “That’s what I wanna hear, sweet thing,” and he removes his hand from your shorts to lick your fluids clean. “‘Cuz I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout makin’ you feel good on my way here.”
He discards your bottoms to the bedroom floor seconds before he unzips his pants and brings them down with his boxer briefs. Toji has his dick free for you to marvel at, the nether limb not yet fully erected, yet the quick pulse of it has your mouth water. He slaps the tip onto your leaky chasm; the sight makes your vagina throb. So much so that you clamp tighter as he pushes the soft tip into you. “Relax fr’ me, mama,” he coaxes you through, gradually pushing every inch of him inside. “Daddy’s gotcha, ‘kay?”
You howl inaudibly, furrowed brows as the base of his cock kisses your folds. And when he grinds his pelvis down? Jesus, you grip the sheets to serve as reins; contracts around his girth are inevitable.
“Fuck,” he curses above you. “So warm and tight like always…”
When he begins to move, it’s at a slow pace. The feeling of his dick pushing into and pulling out of you so sensually is so erotic to your senses, especially witnessing the thing burrowing inside your warmth with your own eyes. Oh, my God, you can feel it getting stiffer, making your excitement dial-up.
The member goes firmer with every stroke, and every sensation differs from the last. His shaft stands solid inch by inch, your eyes shooting up as you become fuller by the second. One pull and push has you whimper. Another push and pull, and your toes curl at the stretch of him becoming greater. Another slow push, and you're calling for him with a shaky breath as the tip of his now solid limb lightly jabs your cervix.
And Toji adores the view under his bow, your body reacting to his erect cock scraping your insides to the point of broken cries. “How ya feelin’, baby?” His sultry voice pulls you in as he increases the speed scarcely.
“Daahh, s-so full,” the snicker to your ear makes you clamp on him harder. “So good…Nnoohh!! Daddy, st–Ooop! D-Don’t thrust so—”
“Hmm? What’s up?” You don’t have to open your eyelids to see that the older man above you has a mischievous look after suddenly sneaking a quick rut to your entrance. “What; don’t like it when I go like…this?” Toji’s hips go erratically, the motion making it easy to rub on your inner walls and sweet spots to the point of shrilled shrieks leaving your lips. “Or…this?” He sluggishly pulls himself back where it’s only the tip of his shaft that’s nestled inside you, only for him to snap his hips back in a rushed second. It takes a moment for you to process and let out a scream as the cockhead pokes your delicate cervix with precision.
Your hands frantically find his shoulders to grip his shirt, “Daddyyy, please, sl–Oooh–Slow down…! If you keep goin’, I’ll cu—….Mmmm!!” Your pleas don’t stop him; they fuel him to keep pounding into you. Balls deep for him to keep probing you with hits to the narrow end again, and your legs wrap around his waist without you thinking. How could you think? Your head kept pounding along with the climb of your orgasm, trembles climbing up your spine.
“What’re ya holdin' it fr’, huh?” All it takes is Toji to bend to your ear once more, kissing your cheek as his pelvis slams into your aching slit. “Cum, mama. Lemme know how good y’re feelin’.”
As if on command, your climax hits you hard, like a wave crashing down on your poor form, drowning your senses with euphoria like no other. Your cunt squeezes around Toji’s girth, your nerves spiking to a sensitive high that has you winded and cold for a moment. And the man above you hisses at the flutter of your walls; his rocking cadence slows down to relish the feeling.
You wail in ecstasy; a tiny sharp gasp leaves you from the gentle kiss he places on your forehead.
“There ya go, sweetie,” he coos with a kiss to the chin before straightening himself. You observe him remove his shirt to dump it onto the floor, and your face becomes hotter when Toji ventures down, where his face gets closer to your wet entrance. “ All wet and ready fr’ me…”
© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ✩ dividers by @/benkeibear.
#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑺𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#toji x reader#toji fushigro x reader#toji smut#toji fushiguro smut#toji x you#toji x y/n#fushiguro toji x reader#fushiguro toji x you#fushiguro toji smut#toji fanfic#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk imagines#anime smut
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yesterday afternoon - after an unsuccessful coffee shop date - you’d decided that dating sucked. it was much too awkward and formal and not at all like it was in the movies, putting too much pressure on the people involved.
last night - after watching shoko flirt her way into free drinks - you’d been tipsy enough to take her advice.
casual sex! it doesn't have to be with a stranger, just pick someone you know. someone you’re sure you won't fall in love with.
this morning you’d woken up to find gojo laying in bed next to you.
you lay shoulder to shoulder with the one person you should not have picked, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the other person to speak.
“did we really–”
“three times,” satoru confirms happily, rolling onto his side to grin down at you. “i'm surprised we didn't do this sooner, really. our sexual tension has always been off the charts.”
when he leans in to kiss you, his lips meet your palm as your expression wrinkles. “don’t get familiar.”
“we’re naked together in bed– we slept together in more than the literal sense. can’t get more familiar than that.”
“and this never happen again,” you promise, refusing to look at him.
“why? because you’re afraid you’ll fall in love with me? it’s okay to admit it. i'm extremely lovable.”
you’ve seen the way girls fawn over him. how they swoon over his pretty eyes and confident smile. he’s satoru gojo. a legend amongst jujutsu society. you’re no one in comparison, not a user of an otherworldly cursed technique, not from a major clan.
people like him don’t fall for people like you. you’re afraid of rejection, afraid of being hurt.
“we’re friends,” you tell him honestly. “i don’t want to risk ruining our friendship over something like this.”
he tilts his head as your look at him. “shoko told you to try casual sex, didn't she? why not with me?”
“she told you?” you groan, dragging a hand down your face and making a mental note to never ask your roommate for advice for anything ever again.
“hey, look at me,” he urges, grasping your hand. you do as he says, meeting his earnest gaze. “i can be casual and chill, it’s not like i have a huge crush on you or anything.”
it’s so hard to say no to him. you really wish you could.
“i’ll think about it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes when he fist pumps. “but you need to go home before shoko sees you.”
but you’re dealing with satoru gojo, who almost never does what he’s told. “you’re not getting rid of me that easily. come here.”
he winds an arm around you, pulli my you in so you’re snug against his chest. explicit memories of last night flash through your mind, sending heat through your veins.
“i can’t.” you tell him (though you’re mostly reminding yourself.) this is insane— satoru, what are you—”
you’re cut off when he shushes you, whispering let’s sleep in for a little while longer.
he starts to drift off again as you struggle to escape his grasp, but your efforts are futile. even on the throes of sleep, satoru is stronger than you.
so you give up, resigning yourself to a few more minutes of…cuddling. shoko isn’t a morning person anyways.
after a minute, you find it's not entirely awful. it’s a purely physical reaction. gojo is good looking, even with his hair mussed with sleep and his mouth hanging open. because you know that under the softness of his skin lays defined muscle, and spending the morning in his nicely toned arms isn’t the worst thing in the world.
(it’s purely physical, is what your head tries to convince your heart, which is beating a little faster than usual.)
a very soft, content sigh slips past your lips.
then, shoko knocks on your door.
“hey! don’t tell me you’re too hungover for grocery shopping.”
“shit!” you whisper harshly, shoving him away from you. “she cannot see you in here.”
“afraid you’ll have to share?” he teases, narrowly avoiding being hit with a pillow. “okay, okay! where do you want me?”
“closet!” you instruct, scrambling my around the room to make sure none of his clothes are lying around. you thrust them into his hands, pushing him into your closet.
he catches the door before you can close it, smiling down at you. “aren’t you glad we’re doing this?”
you shove him inside, slamming the door shut just ask shoko bursts into the room.
“hey,” you greet, trying your best to appear casual as you lean against the door. your heart beats in your throat, as she squints at you, then lets her gaze sweep across the room.
“did you bring someone home last night?”
“no.”
she looks at you. really looks at you, you think.
“okay,” she finally says, though you can’t tell if she believes you. “i just– i thought i saw you leave with gojo. suguru said you two were flirting all night.”
“gojo and i?” you try to laugh, but it comes out a little strained. “never in a million years.”
shoko only shrugs, and you let yourself relax when she turns to leave…
…only for her to turn around once more, leaning the the doorframe. “well if you really don't like him, just let him down easy, alright? suguru told me he has a huge crush on you.”
wait–
“gojo?”
you hear a sharp inhale through the door.
“yeah,” she nods. “you really couldn't tell?”
gojo…has a crush on you. it takes a few seconds to truly sink in. “i had no idea.”
“of course you didn't. he’s definitely got a really weird way of showing it.”
she turns to leave for real this time, but you wait a couple extra seconds before opening your closet, finding a wide eyed, blushing satoru staring at you.
you can't help but laugh. at his expression, at shoko’s revelation, at this entire situation.
dating sucks, but maybe it won’t be that bad if it’s with him.
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Click Here
You and Joel both know how he got that virus on his computer, and you can’t help but to relentlessly tease him in more ways than one…until Joel’s had enough.
Alternatively, Joel should really stop clicking on links that Tommy emails him. (7.6k)
Tags - neighbor!joel, grumpy!joel, pre/no outbreak, porn watching, joel straight jorkin’ his peanits, teasing, lingerie, handjobs, upside down blowjobs (like what happened in spider man), rough sex, manhandling, oral (f receiving), come eating, fingering, overstim, soft dom!joel, porn watching, reader has a bush but is otherwise not described
Fic Help - @joeloverture, @joelsgreys, and @endlessthxxghts for their beautiful brains, and @noxturnalpascal and @beefrobeefcal for editing and patiently explaining dial up internet to me for this fic 🩷👾📀🖥️ Patti, I seriously cannot thank you enough. You made this fic fucking perfect.
A/N - sorry for the delay on getting joel out to you in a timely manner, he should be cumming a lot more frequently…maybe. I do have a vacation I’m leaving for in less than a week. Also, thank you for all the well wishes and participation on my anniversary/5k celebration, I love you all so very much 🩷
masterlist
You know what you came here for. Grumpy, technologically inept Joel fucking the daylights out of you below 👇🖥️🦠🛜👾😍🍑👅💦🍆
It's early evening on a Saturday and finally time for Joel to enjoy his day off. He spent the day doing yard work, grocery shopping, and chauffeuring his daughter to and from soccer games. Saturdays are never really very relaxing for him, so when he has a quiet moment, like right now, he takes advantage.
Joel draws the curtains closed in his kitchen as he stares at his computer setup and contemplates, even though his mind is already made up. It’s a sign - there’s a Victoria’s Secret coupon set that’s been sitting on his kitchen counter since this morning, addressed to you of course. Damn mailman can’t get anything right.
He sits down on the chair in front of the monitor and powers the machine on, opens the tower’s disc drive and inserts his AOL CD before opening the matching AOL application. He has a post-it taped to the bottom of a drawer next to him that he reads from every time to remember his username and password. Joel grumbles to himself as he unzips his jeans, something about ‘damn thing’s always takin’ too long to load’ as the screen goes from dialing to connecting to connected. Netscape takes even longer to load, but when it finally does Joel visits his favorite website, victoriassecret.com. He works his half-hard cock in one hand, feeling it stiffen in his palm as the screen loads slowly, images of lingerie-clad models coming to life bit by bit. Joel groans and squeezes himself.
He knows that jerking off to Victoria's Secret advertisements is juvenile at best. He knows other porn exists, he’s got old dirty Playboy magazines from his teenage years and even some bootleg VHS tapes that his brother Tommy copied for him. He’s tried to watch them, but they’re all sort of sterile and awkward, the dialogue fake and the women’s moans exaggerated and over the top, it takes him out of the fantasy. They can also only be played on the television in the living room, which is not ideal for a number of reasons.
Joel also knows that the women in these advertisements are not real, that they’re airbrushed and photoshopped to the point of looking like Barbie dolls. He knows that they have more curves and body hair than what he’s looking at on his screen, that they have cellulite, stretch marks, and all of the other things he loves on a woman’s body. But Joel is nothing but a man, and a lonely one at that. A hard worker and a dedicated father, he doesn’t have much time for dating. And importantly to Joel, Victoria’s Secret advertisements allow him to do something his dirty magazines and bootleg VHS tapes can’t - use his imagination.
Oh yes, Joel loves when a little mystery is left for him, to pique his interests. He loves to imagine what the model’s breasts look like, if they’re more round-shaped, or like tear drops. Would they hang heavy, swaying when she moved, or would they point outward, petite and perky? How dark or light are their nipples and what would they look like when hard? He loves to picture their vulvas, to visualize what their folds would look like spread in front of him, to envision how they maintain their pubic hair. He wonders what they look like when they’re wet, lips all swollen. It thrills him, excites him.
His eyes are squeezed shut and he’s pumping his cock when a loud email notification from [email protected] interrupts him. “Fuckin’ Tommy,” he mutters, clicking on the popup.
here’s this for your spank bank pervert
No greeting, no goodbye, nothing capitalized and no punctuation. Just one blue link and nothing else. Joel rolls his eyes but clicks the link anyway, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
Just like before, it takes a moment to load but when it finally does, Joel blushes. It’s a porn site where people appear to upload their own porn. It seems expansive, all sorts of categories. Immediately, Joel’s intrigued - he didn’t realize that this kind of stuff was available online. He guesses that he probably should have known that, but rationalizes that he doesn’t use the internet much. His computer is meant for a few things - playing Microsoft Pinball, emailing clients, and browsing Victoria's Secret during times like this. But this - this might’ve just changed the game.
From the thumbnails, these appear to be real people. People of all ages, from young adults to older lovers. Nudity plastered across his screen in all different shapes and sizes, a variety of lengths and cup sizes before him. There are people consensually exploring kinks and couples in love, everyone engaging in a variety of different sexual acts from solo stuff to threesomes to orgies. This has it all, gay, straight, and everything in between. After scrolling through, Joel notices that there’s a little magnifying glass to search for whatever one may fancy. Joel clicks on this and he first searches ‘boobs’. Then ‘big boobs’, ‘small boobs’, ‘blowjobs’, ‘doggy style’. With each search term he types in, the screen loads with various videos of his request. And then, just for shits and giggles, he searches for his favorite - ‘lingerie’.
The results are everything he dreamed of. Forget Victoria’s Secret, this has it all. Women of different sizes and skin tones, all in various stages of undress. Some wearing bras and panties, others wearing lace babydolls and teddies. One particular thumbnail has his interest piqued, though. It’s a woman in a robe, leaning towards the camera so her cleavage is showing. “Let me strip tease you ;)” is the title of her video.
CLICK HERE TO WATCH.
She doesn’t need to tell Joel twice. Joel clicks the link and watches a little popup on his screen indicate that a video is downloading. Once downloaded, he opens the file and begins to watch the video. The woman featured is cute, he thinks. She’s a curvy redhead and she’s teasing, smiling - he likes that. Those Victoria's Secret models don’t smile like this. She lifts her lacy pink robe and shows her ass where there’s a cute little heart-shaped peekaboo cutout in her panties. Joel likes that too. Joel’s been absentmindedly stroking himself and he sighs in contentment. She’s about to open her robe, show him her breasts and–
Windows System Alert
Error Code: 0x80070070
Your computer has encountered a critical issue due to a potentially harmful program. This issue has affected system files and may cause instability or loss of data.
Please take the following actions immediately:
Save all work in progress.
Disconnect from the internet.
Run a full system scan with your security software.
For further assistance, contact technical support.
“Well, that ain’t right,” Joel mumbles. Joel clicks on the little red X in the top right corner to make it disappear, but the popup is right back where it was, blocking that cute redhead from giving Joel a virtual show. He tries closing the message again, it pops right back up. Growing slightly irritated, Joel closes the media player altogether and reopens the downloaded strip tease video. It won’t open. “The fuck?” He tries opening an old untitled document from months ago, and yet again he’s met with the same error message. The popup is arriving in multiples now, blocking his screen. It’s like whack-a-mole, the way he’s closing one and two more pop up in its place.
Joel’s out of his depth here, so he decides to consult an expert. He lives right across the street from a total computer whiz, so he’ll ask her for help. He tucks himself back into his jeans with a soft groan, zips and buttons his jeans before making his way to her house.
-
You’re vacuuming your floor when you think you hear the faint sound of knocking, so you turn around to see a figure standing on your porch through your window. It’s Joel. Devastatingly handsome, grumpy, single dad.
You and Joel got off to a rocky start when you moved into the neighborhood a couple years back. He used to hound you about letting your grass grow too long, and you’d argue back by telling him that it’s good for the environment. Growing tired of your protesting, Joel decided to start mowing your lawn for you, without your consent. Not that you really minded, he always wears his grass-stained white and navy New Balance sneakers, his few-inches-too-short denim cutoffs and an old white tank top, stained with grease and his own sweat. It clings to his body, outlining his soft belly. His slightly graying but dark, damp curls cling to his perspiring forehead as his thick thighs clench with every step he takes, pushing that heavy lawnmower up and down your front yard. You compensate him with glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade, offer him a cool wash rag that he wipes his forehead with, the sweat and water dripping down his temple, over the stubble on his jaw. Tensions softened then, and Joel’s been a nice neighbor to have ever since. He, his brother and daughter are good people.
You tap the button on the bottom of your vacuum cleaner with your toe, shutting it off before opening the door for Joel. He looks a little disheveled - he’s breathing heavily, pupils blown wide. “You busy right now?”
“For you? You know I’m always too busy,” you smirk, tapping your foot against his shoe.
“Yeah, whatever. Listen, I’m findin’ myself in need of your computer expertise. Would you be able to help me, darlin’?”
It’s the way Joel calls you darlin’, how he flashes those sparkling, chocolate eyes at you, bats his long lashes and smiles at you in such a way that you’re sure he’s deliberately trying to send you to an early grave. You’re wrapped around Joel’s finger but nevertheless, you work your angle. “My time is precious, Joel. How will you make it worth my while?”
Joel rolls his eyes, “Oh, give me a break. I’ll mow your lawn. Does that work for you, princess?”
“You already mow my lawn.”
“Yeah, and I’ll keep mowin’ it. How’s that?”
“Cheap,” you quip. But you still smile and close the door behind you, and Joel blushes as you unknowingly take the hand Joel was just pleasuring himself with in yours, swinging your arms between you playfully as you cross the street to his house together. Your skin tickles when Joel places a hand on your lower back, guiding you to his computer setup before pulling out the chair for you. You log into his computer using his own username and password, something you know by heart. Joel has forgotten his password so many times, he used to call you - at a minimum - twice a week to ask you what it was. The only solution to that issue was for you to write it down on a post-it note and stick it next to the monitor for him. He absolutely hates that you’ve made him put dollar signs and exclamation marks in his password. “Seems unnecessary,” is what he would say, annoyance lacing his tone.
You retorted with, “Well if you can’t even get into your own computer, how could anyone else?” and Joel shrugged and nodded.
Joel pours both himself and you a glass of ice water, then sits down at the dining room table behind you. “So it’s uhh…” he starts, interrupting himself to sip his water. “Got this error message thing when you click on a file.”
Clicking a file, you see the error popup Joel’s referring to. “I see,” you mumble, clicking on a few others. Joel watches your brows furrow in concentration, a frown painting your lips.
Oh, shit. Joel didn’t even think to delete that file. “W-what is it? Why’re you makin’ that face?”
“I’m diagnosing.”
Right. Of course you are. You haven’t seen anything you’re not supposed to see, because it’s not like the files would magically start opening for your eyes only. Right? “What’s the verdict, doc?” Joel jokes, hoping you don’t hear the way his voice wobbles slightly with anxiety.
You suck in a breath through your teeth, “Not good,” you reply. “All of your files are corrupted, I thin–”
Joel interrupts, “What’s that, what’s corrupted? Is that bad?”
“Your turn,” you interrupt back, cocking an eyebrow at his impoliteness. It’s very unlike him.
“M’sorry, hon. Go ‘head, sorry.”
Joel needs to get it together. He’s fidgety and high-strung. He needs to calm down. It’s fine. It will be fine. You’re gonna work your magic and you’re not gonna see anything you’re not supposed to see. When you’re done, you’re gonna go home and Joel will go right back to his private time as previously scheduled - that’s probably what his biggest problem is, he’s blue-balled himself and he’s all wound-up. Problem will be fixed, easy peasy.
“When did you say this problem started again?”
“Uh, just a little bit ago,” Joel answers, walking over to the sink and getting himself a glass of water. “Thirsty?”
“No, thanks. What websites do you visit?”
Joel watches you browse his files and mess with the system preferences on his computer. “The weather mostly, or Amazon.. Orderin’ books for Sarah.” Which is a total lie, but he justifies this in his head by telling himself that you don’t need to know what website he visits the most. It’ll embarrass you both. And actually, Sarah prefers to go to the library. She even went today.
“Anything else?”
Joel lies again, “Check the news from time to time, check my team’s scores.”
You hum in response and continue typing. Joel wishes he could type like that, watching your fingers effortlessly fly across the keyboard. He likes the sound it makes, the quiet clicking and the tapping of your manicured fingernails. “What about emails, you avoiding those scams I told you about?”
“Yes.”
“Clicking on chainmail?”
“I am not.”
“Not anymore,” you mumble under your breath. Joel rolls his eyes. You’ll never let it go, will you?
-
Chainmail is how you became Joel’s IT girl. For a couple of months, you’d received various emails from him that were just copy-paste chainmail messages. You know, the ones that say things like ‘Click here to verify your account information. Send to 10 friends and family members to verify their accounts as well.’ You’d just delete, delete, delete, and reply back asking him to stop emailing you these things. But Joel never stopped, day after day he’d send you chainmail. After receiving what felt like the eightieth spam email from [email protected], you decided to confront him.
Joel awoke from an accidental afternoon nap to rather incessant knocking coming from his front door. He opened it only to find you on his porch, where you then proceeded to invite yourself inside. “What happened to hello?” he asked, his voice all sexy and raspy and his eyes tired, lines indenting his face from laying on the couch. He yawned, running his fingers through his curls to try and tame the bed head. You wondered if he always looked this handsome when he woke up.
“Sorry, hi,” you corrected. “Need to borrow your computer. Please.”
Yawning again, Joel sleepily gestured to his computer in the kitchen. “Knock yourself out. Damn thing ain’t actin’ right, though.”
You powered the machine on logged in using the post-it taped to his wall, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. Upon logging in and connecting to the internet, you noticed all sorts of glitches. Not even your computer ran consistently smoothly, but Joel’s was a wreck. Popups and error messages of all different kinds littered the screen, blocking the cute picture of himself and Sarah he had set as the background. “Wow, I couldn’t tell,” you teased. “You have more errors than you do applications on this thing, Joel.” Joel only shrugged in response. “Come sit by me,” you said.
Joel pulled up a seat next to you. “I wanna show you something. Can I open your email?”
“Go right ahead, hon.”
You opened Joel’s email and found his ‘sent’ box, where the last sent email was addressed to you. You clicked it and it opened to his last sent piece of chainmail. “I’ve asked you to stop sending me these emails,” you told him.
Joel looked crushed almost, a look of puzzlement and what might’ve been hurt momentarily painting his features. “You have?”
“I have.”
The chainmail on the screen was a common one he’d send you, the one asking you to give up your information to protect yourself. “I was only tryin’ to be neighborly. I thought you’d like ‘em, y’know - want you to keep yourself safe.”
It was endearing, the way he explained himself. How he wanted you to stay safe. Your frustration dissipated, only to be renewed as you looked in his spam folder to find all of your replies to him in there instead of his main inbox. “Joel, why am I in your spam folder?” you asked, sighing. Joel simply shrugged and you didn’t even have words. By the look on his face, he probably didn’t even realize he had a spam folder, much less knew what one was. But you had greater concerns. “What are those emails supposed to keep me safe from?”
“Well, from…” Joel’s mouth hung open as he thought about it, looked up and to the side as he began to realize he didn’t have an answer. “Uhh–”
“You don’t know, do you?” Joel shook his head. “Exactly. It’s called phishing, these emails you’ve been sending me aren’t real. They’re trying to get peoples’ personal information, like, look–” you pointed to the screen, showing Joel an example, “See? Here, it’s asking for your bank information.”
“And I wasn’t ‘sposed to give them that?”
You tilted your head in disappointment, “Joel.”
Joel groaned and leaned back in his chair, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Yeah, I know. Fuckin’ idiot.”
You were about to tell him to call his bank, but he was already on it. He pulled his Nokia phone from his belt clip and called his bank to explain the situation. As you went through his inbox and deleted each and every one of the hinky-looking emails, you listened to Joel on the phone.
“Didn’t realize there were these uh…email scams…Yeah, that charge was me. And that too…
…Will you call me f’ya see anything suspicious? Okay.
…Okay. Thank you, ma’am. Thank you. You too.”
From what you heard of the phone call, it seemed that he was safe. You guessed that Joel’s technological ineptitude is probably what had saved him, that he likely mistyped or misunderstood what the scam was attempting to do. You continued to delete scams and other malware-adjacent things from his computer as Joel hung up the phone call and sat back down with you. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, s’all good.”
Joel looked shaken, though. You touched his hand sympathetically and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re gonna learn some internet safety today.”
“Figured. I need it.”
“Yeah, you do,” you smiled. You went through his email, pointing out all the different scams. You told him not to click on links that look like this and that. This is a scam, this is too. You told him that anything attempting to sell fireworks, guns, or anything else at the low, low price of x amount isn’t real. And no, these emails here do not mean that you won a new TV or the lottery or a cruise. Anything that seems too good to be true definitely is. “...Actually,” you began, “All of these are from Tommy. New rule, don’t click on anything from Tommy.”
“Noted,” Joel replied. “I didn’t know any ‘a this.”
“Most people don’t. It’s new, yet. But you know now, so it’s okay.”
Joel breathed a sigh of relief, but he still looked overwhelmed. This time he took your hand and squeezed it. After a moment, he asked you where you learned all of this from. You explained you picked a lot of it up in school, just learning things here and there. Joel let you talk about it all and seemed genuinely interested and impressed.
“I went through and fixed all that was giving you trouble, by the way. Your computer should be running smoother,” you said. “And I changed your password. ‘abcde’ is not a good password, Joel.”
From that day forward, you became Joel's official computer girl. He’d call you and have you help him when he couldn’t get his computer connected to the printer, when he screwed with the settings and the computer didn’t look or act the way he was used to. Even the most basic things, like whenever he had a new picture of himself and Sarah he wanted to change the background to. Not that you minded, you’d jump at any opportunity to poke fun at your handsome neighbor’s lack of computer knowledge.
-
“Did you click on any links from Tommy?”
Joel goes quiet at that, remembering your very specific rule to not engage with him over email. He looks down at his hands as he twiddles his thumbs together. “I might’ve…one or two, maybe”
“What kind of links?”
“There– Fuck, I don’t know. You know, just…websites. They take me to websites. But I don’t give ‘em my information,” he insists.
“What’s on these websites?”
Joel thinks fast. “Truckparts,” he answers too quickly, and the two words come out as one. “Just truck parts,” he says again, slower.
“Well, you must’ve been looking at some sketchy truck parts. You’ve got a virus.”
“Okay,” he says. “Figured as much. But you’ve fixed those before for me, haven’t you?”
“I have, but this one means business,” you reply, shaking your head. You start to type a bit, click the mouse as you go through and attempt to delete corrupted files, but it’s not working the way it should. You open Netscape and check the browsing history to see if that can clue you in as to what website could have done this to Joel’s computer. “You said it just started?”
“Just started, yeah,” Joel affirms.
Which…tracks.
Today, Saturday, June 25, 2003
5:06 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/lingerie
4:54 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/doggy-style
4:50 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/blowjobs
4:49 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/small-boobs
4:49 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/big-boobs
4:45 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/home
His search history is nothing but porn, which you’re 99% sure is exactly what caused the virus. The time stamps all show that the site was visited within the last hour, and Joel says it just started, so…
“What’re you lookin’ at?”
“Well,” you say, hesitating before answering fully. “I am looking at your search history.”
Joel stares at the monitor like a deer in the headlights. “There’s - my uh…” he swallows thickly, “They keep records of that?”
“Mhm.”
“Well I told you - just….lookin’ at parts,” Joel’s hand wobbles slightly as he sips on his water.
“Yeah, lady parts.”
Joel sputters on his drink, choking and coughing as he slams the glass down and water spills everywhere. He uses the bottom of his t-shirt to clean his mess as he begins to turn red, feeling his chest and neck and cheeks begin to warm. He can’t even look at you, but he hears your giggles and he can picture your smug grin and he wishes so badly he was dead right now. You’ve seen it all, you know everything. You know it and so does he. He’s gaining the courage to look at you and oh god - you’re scrolling through the dirty website. Giggling, you’re looking at everything he looked at, fucking everything. You’re seeing the same dicks he saw, the same pussies, seeing the purple links that indicate exactly what he’s already clicked on. “Yeah, laugh it up,” he says angrily, defensively. “Ain’t that funny.”
Joel’s world is ending, but it’s really not as bad as he thinks it is. The porn is tamer than what’s often found on the internet, much tamer than the shit you watch. You continue to explore the site as you listen to Joel tell on himself behind you.
“It’s just somethin’ to pass the time,” he says. “It’s natural, alright? And I know you do it too.” He’s deflecting. Even still, he’s not wrong, you certainly do take part.
You just let him keep talking, relishing in having the upper hand in this situation. “You’re blushing,” you tell him when he quiets down, just to get him started and riled up again as you browse the site. You notice a lot of videos are duplicates, prompting users to download the same thumbnail uploaded by different usernames. Whatever Joel clicked on was probably not uploaded by a real person, though. He clocked on a gibberish username made up of random letters and numbers, unlike some other videos uploaded under actual names. Like Joel’s new found friend ‘cherry_girl_xo’, whose username link is purple. You smirk at that, turning around to look at Joel who definitely recognizes her. He’s bright red everywhere.
You’re sure this website is the culprit, but you check the rest of his search history to see if any other clue lies in there, but see nothing of import. All you notice are various links to victoriassecret.com, over and over and over again. Based on that and his last searched term on that shady porn site, you can safely assume he’s got a thing for lingerie. Which - funnily enough, you’re wearing right now. Not the kind of lingerie Joel’s been beating off to, but similar. You’re wearing your laciest undergarments, a lavender colored bra with a matching thong. They’re your laundry day underwear, you know the kind - five years old and been sitting at the bottom of your underwear drawer untouched for four of those years, not very comfortable and only to be worn when you’ve just gotten off your period and all of your cotton bikinis and boyshorts are in the wash. That kind.
After toying with Joel’s computer for a while longer while he twists uncomfortably in agonizing humiliation, you decide there’s not much else that can be done. “I think we have to wipe it all, Joel,” you tell him. “Delete everything and start fresh.”
Joel nods quietly. “Will I still be able to play pinball after?”
“Yeah, I’ll make sure you can play pinball,” you chuckle.
“Wipe it, then.”
And so you start the process, which will take a long while. The screen loads and loads as you and Joel wait quietly. You look at Joel, who’s got an elbow on the table as he rests his forehead in his palm. “What?” he snaps, noticing you staring at him. You can’t fight the giggles from erupting. “Would you quit fuckin’ gigglin’ like that? You know that a man’s got needs and I ain’t hurtin’ anyone–” You contort your lips into a forced frown, pressing them into a thin line and then covering your mouth to keep your laughter at bay, but you’re struggling. Joel can see the amusement still sparkling in your eyes and says your name in a warning tone.
“I’m sorry,” you smile, raising your hands in surrender. “I won’t laugh. I’m sorry, Joel.”
“Better be,” he grumbles. He drinks the last of his water quietly as you think about something, something that’s been heavy on your mind for the last couple of minutes. What if Joel knew what you were wearing beneath your clothes? You’ve made this afternoon absolute hell for him and you know that - but you don’t care. You’ve had too much fun getting under his skin to stop now.
The real dirty work begins when you unzip your sweatshirt and hang it over the back of your chair. When Joel looks at you, you bring your hand to your shoulder and gently pull up on your bra strap, letting it snap your shoulder.
Joel shifts in his seat and clears his throat, “You warm or somethin’?”
“Yeah, it’s a little hot in here.”
“Mm,” Joel spins his now empty glass between his thumb and pointer finger. When he looks back at you, he flips the glass. You’ve pulled the top of your tank top down, your lacy bra and cleavage on full display. He tries to make two moves at once, catch the rolling glass and cover his crotch because he’s just gone erect. “Cute. I would appreciate it if you’d knock that off now, I get the picture. S’real funny,” he mutters as he scrambles.
“What picture?” you ask innocently.
“Oh, don’t you start. You know exactly what damn picture,” Joel snaps. “You figured it out. Got a certain fondness for ladies in lace. You feel clever or somethin’?”
You really can’t bite back your smile this time, “Mhm.”
“You shouldn’t. You’re exploitin’ my vulnerabilities, takin’ cheap shots and–” Joel’s jaw drops as he watches you unbutton your jean shorts and show off your panties, the little bow at the center of them nicely on display. His look of shock quickly turns into a glare as you take off your tank top. “Like that, that’s playin’ dirty. Put your shirt back on and zip yourself back up. What the hell’s gotten into you?”
“I dunno,” you shrug. You really don’t. This is just as surprising to you as it is to Joel, but the look on his face tells you that you’re definitely having way more fun than he is.
“God, you’re killin’ me,” he groans. The way you’re so cavalier about this all has Joel both flummoxed and irate.
But you’re not this bold usually, not really. Joel must not have noticed the way your hands have been trembling, must not have heard your slightly shaky breaths. He’s been avoiding eye contact too much to notice you’ve been doing the same. “Why?”
“Why? Cause I’m only a man and you’re gettin’ me all worked up. You’re takin’ advantage of me and my biology,” Joel gestures angrily to his crotch. He’s not even bothering to hide it anymore - you’ve seen it all and know what you’ve done to him. “You proud?”
“You’re–”
“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ hard - been hard. Didn’t get to take care of myself ‘cause of the fuckin’ virus and here you are teasin’ and temptin’ me and…Hon, what’re you -” Joel’s angered expression turns to momentary confusion when you stand up, then turns to contentment when you straddle his lap. You press your core into his thick bulge, holding onto his shoulders for stability. “What are you doin’?” he sighs, his head falling backward.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “For teasing.”
“Yeah, so you say, princess.”
You grind yourself on his lap and when Joel brings his head forward to search for your eyes, he notices how your eyes flicker away from his. Like maybe you’re not as in control of this situation as you appear to be.
“I am.”
“Mm,” Joel hums. You’re reaching between your bodies and fumbling with the button on his jeans. He sucks in his soft belly to unbutton them for you, wraps his strong hand around your wrist and brings your hand to his mouth. “Gimme this,” he mumbles, spitting into your hand before he shoves it under the waistband of his boxers. A pang of arousal floods your gut at the action.
You palm his warm, heavy cock, feeling him thicken in your hand, though he’s already so hard. You can feel his rigid member throb and ache as you work his shaft up and down, up and down, your knuckles brushing against his thatch of coarse curls and his tummy. It’s evident how much he’s needed this, what with the way his chest rises and falls with his heavy breaths, soft groans escaping his lips as he does so.
Joel enjoys himself as you work him. “Fuck,” he whispers. You look down between your bodies to admire his member, the blushed, leaking tip and the thick and prominent veins. And he’s so smooth, his skin almost silky. You watch his blissed out face, contemplate kissing those pink, pouting lips of his. You’re gonna do it, bringing your face close to his. Brushing your lips ever so softly over his, Joel moves to kiss you fully when you pull back. His computer makes that signature Windows startup sound,
“I have to take care of that,” you murmur. You dismount Joel and he picks up where you leave off, stroking his own cock just like you were. He watches your nearly naked body with hooded eyes that flutter shut as you work, typing quietly on his keyboard. You set his username and password the same, make sure that things open as they should. For Joel’s own protection, you block [email protected].
“Finished?” Joel asks as you stand up from your seat in front of his computer.
“Mhm,” you reply, gripping his shoulder with your hand as you bend over halfway to pick up your discarded top and kiss his cheek. “Have fun with your Victoria’s Secret girls, Joel.”
Your work here is done. You’ve fixed Joel’s computer and by the look on his face, broken his heart. “What are you doing?”
You smile, too proud of yourself as you begin to walk away. Before you can walk further, Joel stands up and reaches across the table, grabbing you by the forearm and forcing you onto your back. “You ain’t gettin’ away from me that easy, princess,” he says. “I still got somethin’ that needs fixed.” Joel displays strength but is as gentle as can be, though the cold, hard wood against your spine and your shoulder blades hurt you for a moment. Your eyes widen in shock, but it’s a welcome pain. “Knew you weren’t fuckin’ sorry,” Joel spits. Your head dangles off the edge of the table and Joel uses a hand to open your mouth, forcing two of his thick fingers inside. Instinctually, you curl your tongue around the digits, sucking and licking. You can taste his cock on his fingers from when he was pleasuring himself just moments ago.
Joel pumps himself in his hand for a second before guiding his thick head to your lips, pushing past them in one quick thrust, right to the back of your throat so you gag. He likes that noise. “I give you an inch,” he grunts, “And you take a mile.” You slide your tongue over those thick veins of his you’d previously traced with your fingertips. Joel draws out of your mouth slowly, allowing you to lick his weeping slit before pushing himself back in. “It would’ve been courteous of you to keep my dirty secret to yourself, but you couldn’t even do that. Went an’ humiliated me instead, then you got the nerve to try ‘n leave me high and dry? I don’t think I deserve that.”
Joel wants to fuck your mouth until your lips are raw and swollen, show you just what he thinks of your stunt. But he demonstrates self control, allows you to take him at your own pace and yet, you continue to tease. It’s like it’s innate or something, the way you continue to only give little by little, savoring the saltiness of his precome. He gives you one last warning, “You really should learn when to quit while you’re ahead, hon.”
You persist anyway. Wrong move. Joel fucks himself into your mouth with no regard for your comfort, taking what he needs from you. It’s sloppy and messy, his heavy balls bouncing off the tip of your nose. You wish you could see him, see the way he’d glare at you. He’s flipped like a switch, previously holding himself back from having his way with you like he wanted to. He’s taking it now. All the softness in him is gone, and you fucking love it. You reach forward, sliding your hand down your stomach, dipping it beneath your panties. You spread your legs wide and your fingers hover over your pussy, feeling that wet heat radiating from your core. Just as you let your fingers drop to touch your aching clit, you feel Joel lunge forward and pull your hand away. “Nuh-uh, not where I eat. Where are your manners, princess?”
He fucks your mouth relentlessly, holding the sides of your head in his big hands. He watches the way your lace-covered tits bounce with his every thrust. He pushes himself deeper and deeper, ignoring your sputtering and choking on his cock. Your eyes prick with tears as your jaw begins to ache, really fucking ache. Joel doesn’t stop himself, and it’s not like he would if he knew you were crying like this. He fills the air with his own grunting and groaning, relishing in the warmth of your wet, soft mouth.
And then he’s done. No slowing to a standstill, just abruptly pulls out. You hear his heavy footsteps as he rounds the kitchen table, hooks his fingertips beneath the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down, pulls your hips close to his so your face is no longer dangling off the edge. He pulls your panties to the side, drags his thumb up and down your slick folds and it’s like the quiet before the storm.
He notches himself in your entrance and pushes himself in, inch by inch by inch. Slowly, deliberately, so that you feel all of the stretching and aching he wants you to. “Joel,” you cry. “Fuck, Joel, please, I can’t–”
“You’ll get used to it,” he purrs. He leans over you as he fucks you slowly, holding your neck with his thumb on your jawbone while he kisses you to quiet you down, licking into your mouth and swirling his tongue around with yours. You whimper softly into his mouth with his every thrust, the pain not yet completely dissipated, but pleasurable in its own way. “Spread your legs. Wider.”
You open yourself up for him, allowing him to fuck himself deeper into you. You accept it all as he wraps your legs around his waist, your heels bouncing on his ass. The head of his cock kisses that sweet spot inside of you, pleasure beginning to take over your senses and you moan. “Fuck, Joel.”
“Feels good, don’t it? Maybe this whole virus fiasco was a blessing in disguise, darlin’,” Joel says, “Feels good f’me too.”
You cry out loudly when he puts your legs up on his shoulders, the new angle has him inside you even deeper than before. He sits you up a bit, putting your arms behind your back and pressing your palms down flat on the table with his own.
He draws out of you and fills you up again, over and over and over. “Fuck, look at us,” he kisses your ankle a couple of times, “Look,” Joel looks down where your bodies meet and you join him, watching how his cock slides in and out of you, all wet and coated in your slick. Panties still pulled to the side, your skin is irritated where the fabric tugs and scratches at your skin. He maintains a quick rhythm, rolling his hips into yours.
“Make me come, Joel, I want to come.”
“Oh, I’ve got no doubt you do. But maybe I’ll leave you high and dry like you were gonna do to me, see how you like it. What a waste that’d be, huh?” You whine at the threat and Joel smiles deviously, he likes having you at his mercy like this. All pathetic and begging for him to let you come undone. “You’re nothin’ but talk, aren’t you?”
“Make me come, please.”
“You’ll have to convince me,” he says. “You heard me, convince me. Better make it quick.”
Your brain is short-circuiting, you can’t even process what Joel said and begin to make your case. You feel him twitching, his hips stuttering and before you know it, he’s spilling into you. He paints your insides with his hot spend, milking himself entirely in your cunt and your disappointment is incalculable. Tears of frustration well up and threaten to spill down your cheeks. It was all fun and games before, but you suddenly feel so used and betrayed. You can’t say he didn’t warn you.
“Ohh, I know,” he coos, wiping your eyes. “Bit off more than you could chew, didn’t you?”
You nod, sniffling quietly.
“You can still convince me. I’m all ears, ya know.”
“How?”
“Well,” Joel says. He’s beginning to soften inside of you, and so he pulls out with a soft ‘fuck’, his spend spilling out of you and onto his table. “Can start with an ‘I’m sorry, Joel’. And I want a real one this time.”
“I’m sorry, Joel.”
“S’a good start. Wanna give me some more? Tell me why?”
“F-for teasing you and stuff.”
“For teasing me and stuff,” he repeats your words slowly. Joel pulls off his t-shirt and folds it tightly, places it at the end of the table and lowers your head onto it. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”
Joel kneels before you and wraps his arms around your thighs. He presses a kiss over your cloth-covered core, feeling the dampness of your arousal and his spend on his lips. He spreads your legs wide, exposing your wet cunt for him, lips all swollen and ribbons of his spend clinging to your folds. He admires the thick curls framing your pussy, “I gotcha,” he whispers. “C’mere.”
You gasp when Joel finally, finally begins to explore you, his tongue parting open your folds. He pulls back and pushes one, then two fingers inside you, humming in satisfaction at the way you suck him in, so eager and needy for his touch. He curls his fingers inside of you slowly, watching how you react to his touch. You twitch and jerk as you try to keep yourself still.
“Oh, Joel,” you moan as he laps at your cunt, feeling that warm, sticky feeling flow through your hips. His mouth and fingers work together to bring you closer to your edge, humming as he rhythmically strokes that sweet spot inside of you. His tongue is so hot, wet, and firm as he drags it up and down your sex, circling your clit with the muscle. “Mmm, fuck. Oh, god.”
Joel doesn’t know what’s more satisfying, the sweet taste of this most private place between your thighs or the sounds of your pleasure as he eats you. He devours you voraciously, sucking one fold and nipping at the other as he curls his fingers, never faltering in their movements. With his free hand that’s not teasing your pussy, he reaches around and pulls the hood of your clit back to suck and lick the sensitive bud. His dark, slightly graying and wiry stubble drags across the skin of your inner thighs, scratching you gently. It’s building up quickly, that familiar feeling deep in your spine.
“I’m–” a moan rips through your chest and interrupts you, “Fuck, I’m–”
“I know, hon,” he whispers, escalating his efforts. He sucks, licks, and curls his fingers harder, feeling the slow build of you beginning to come apart for him. You come on his lips and spill into his hand as Joel works you through your orgasm. You’re a gushing, moaning mess, your hands fly to his scalp and you tug on his soft curls when he licks a stripe up the seam of your cunt. And then another, slower. Another yet, even slower.
You expect him to pull away from your center with a satisfied grin, his mustache and beard dampened by your slick. But he stays put, licking more long stripes up and down your pussy. Your thighs twitch and flutter uncontrollably and Joel holds you apart for him as he continues to tease, circling the tip of his perfect, aquiline nose around your clit.
“Too much, it’s too much,” you cry.
“Mhm. But you got one more in you, I know you do.”
“Joel–”
You think you might break. You’re not sure where you feel Joel’s tongue, you just feel him fucking everywhere. You don’t know where your orgasm begins and ends, just that by the time Joel decides you’re done, you’re in sweet agony and he luxuriates in the taste of your second release. He’s made such a pretty mess of you. He presses one last kiss to your core, “Yeah, that was a good one, wasn’t it?”
Joel pulls away from your center, wiping his lips on your thighs. His cheeks are flushed and his dark eyes sparkle. He lets you catch your breath as he fills a glass of water for you and brings it to your lips helping you to drink as your hands are still trembling from it all.
When the moment passes, you gather your clothes. You pull on your tank top and put your shorts back on. “Oh,” you say.
“Hm?”
“I blocked Tommy’s email, just so you know. He’s trouble.”
Joel chuckles. “You, my darlin’, are trouble. But that’s probably for the best, thank you for fixin’ my computer again.”
“It’s no problem,” you reply.
“Oh–” Joel grabs something from his stack of mail on his countertop and hands it to you. It’s some Victoria’s Secret coupons.“This was addressed to you. Ended up in my mail. Fuckin’ mail guy.”
You giggle quietly, what a curmudgeon he is. “Actually, I think you need it more than I do. You can beat off to your angels in analog,” you tease.
Joel rolls his eyes. “You just don’t learn, do you?” he says, taking the coupons back from you. “And actually, think I will hang on to this. Maybe I’ll even buy you somethin’ pretty an’ we can do this again soon.”
If you enjoyed, please reblog, comment, send me an ask, just tell me something nice <3 your words keep me motivated to write.
#strang3lov3#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#joel miller x you#joel miller#the last of us#the last of us hbo#joel x reader#joel the last of us#grumpy joel#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut
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HE DOESN’T WANT ME WHEN HE’S SOBER PART 2 (LANDO ENDING)
read: part one | logan ending
summary: lando’s your best friend but seems to like you when he’s drunk. but then again, he seems to like everyone when he’s drunk.
pairing: lando norris x gn!reader
wc: 1.8k
Lando wouldn’t admit it to anyone but that night was the worst sleep he’d ever had. He left as soon as he found out you’d left with Lily and Alex, and made his way to your house just to find out you weren’t there. He messaged Alex to get no response and contemplated waiting outside your door until you came back, whether it be days or months, he’d wait for you. But, after almost falling asleep numerous times and getting laughed at by a group of teenagers, he made his way back to his apartment, knowing you’d be looked after.
He was awake almost all night, messaging and calling you and regretting everything in its entirety. He didn’t fully know if you had even seen him kiss the person that resembled you, he only felt it deep down, but even if you hadn’t, he shouldn’t have done it, and he could never apologise enough. He thought of how to explain his thoughts but nothing would suffice; nothing would ever be able to explain how he felt.
At some point in the early hours, he finally drifted off, but awoke not much later to an aggressive banging on his door and a voice screaming at him to hurry up. He wished the voice was you but it wasn’t and he hated it. He rushed to his door, barely having time to pull on some grey joggers before opening it to an angry Alex, very close to breaking the door down.
“Are you stupid?” Alex questioned, fuming, pushing his way into Lando’s house, “I know that you’re in love with her so what are you doing?”
Lando looked like a deer in headlights. He couldn’t explain his actions, he didn’t even want to think about them. All he remembered feeling was grief at watching you walk away, so when he found someone that looked eerily similar, he took the chance to kiss them and create the image in his mind of kissing you. It didn’t last long. He realised too quickly that they didn’t smell like you and the way they kissed wasn’t the same. He hated it, he didn’t want to kiss anyone but you.
“I know, I didn’t mean to-”
“What, you just tripped into her mouth then?” Alex questioned, pushing a finger against Lando’s chest.
“No- no. I don’t know why I did, I really love them I promise. We almost kissed but then they walked away, I was hurt, I didn’t think they wanted me,” Lando almost cried, his voice cracking.
“You do this every time you go out. You kiss her every time you go out and she follows, you don’t get to pull that card. You might be upset but I promise you’re not even feeling half of it,” Alex spat, not caring if he hurt Lando because he hurt you much more.
“Help me apologise. I need to apologise, please Alex, please help,” Lando begged, wanting you to more than anything, “Please Alex, I’ll do anything.”
Alex sighed. At that moment, he hated Lando for what he did, but he’d been wishing for you both to get together since he first saw you both together, making heart eyes at each other. He contemplated in his head whether to help or not. He always envisioned you together but always wanted what's best for you and right now he couldn’t tell if that was Lando or not. But looking at the state of him, red, wet eyes, begging for his help, he wanted to believe Lando regretted everything and would do anything to prove he loved you.
“Okay, but I’m not letting you be forgiven easily, I want you to prove it,” Alex sighed, running his hands over his face. A feeling of simultaneous relief and guilt eating him alive.
Lando promised Alex over and over again, and in between each syllable, promising himself also that he would give you the world in apologies, and whatever happened he deserved it, but even if there was the slimmest chance you could forgive him, Lando would take it and cherish it.
Alex messaged you and you told him it was fine to bring Lando over, as long as he didn’t expect much, and so they turned up less than five minutes later. Alex left you both alone in the kitchen to sit with Lily in the living room after repeating countless times he was a shout away.
You almost broke down just seeing him but managed to keep it in. You didn’t want him to explain, you didn’t care to hear it at the moment, but as soon as Alex left he began spilling out apologies and trying to explain himself, which you quickly shut up.
“I want some space,” you sighed. You wanted Lando close but you wanted everything you felt for him gone first. You couldn’t believe he ever felt the same, not after that.
“Of course, I understand,” his voice broke as he stepped back, trying to show you he would do anything you said.
“Not like that, Lando. I mean it, I don’t think I can see you for a while.”
“Oh-” he said, “When can I see you again?”
“I’m not sure, I’m sorry-”
“Don’t be, this is my fault,” he sighed, clearly upset and looking at the ground, “I’ll go, I’ll see you soon.”
After he left, you broke down crying, debating your decision on if you handled it right. You already missed him, and still loved him, but you also didn’t want to see him. Alex explained the whole morning, and his perspective, giving you hope you could fix it with Lando, especially after Alex’s approval, which you trusted more than anything.
The next few times you saw him were at hangouts with your shared friends. You knew he’d be there as none of your friends would invite him unless you were completely sure you didn’t mind him there. He stayed away, but didn’t make it awkward to the people around you, and always gave you a shy smile when you caught his eye.
He didn’t try to text or call again, despite wanting to more than anything, and instead waited for you to make the first move whenever you were ready. You had missed him more than anything, in both an “I love him” and “he’s my best friend” way, and it was killing you from being away from him, especially after how well he listened to your instructions.
You were at a mutual friend's get-together, a small barbecue in a back garden when you decided it was time. You had been debating texting him but after seeing him, you decided you couldn’t wait.
He was standing alone in a corner beside a flower patch and some grass, drink in hand, and surveying everyone that was there when you walked over. He didn’t know how to greet you and so awkwardly moved his hands between going for a hug or a handshake. You laughed and hugged him, both of you holding on tightly, unhappy to let go.
“I’ve missed you,” you whispered gently, looking down and playing with your fingers, slightly nervous to admit it to him after all this time.
“I’ve missed you too,” he grins, adding on, “So much,” with a quiet whisper.
“How’ve you been?” you asked, trying to make small talk before delving right in.
“Okay, I’ve not really done much. Races have been okay.”
“I saw,” you smiled, “You’ve done really well.”
“You watched?” he questioned, a little surprised. You met his eyes and nodded, explaining how you could never miss one.
“Do you want to talk inside?” you asked, heart pounding as you said it. He nodded immediately, without hesitation, and followed you in through the double glass doors into the kitchen, but only after picking out a daisy from the grass next to him and offering it out to you, causing both of you to grin.
He closed the doors behind you both, blocking out as much other noise as possible, ready for you to begin. “I want to know how you feel about this and about me,” you started, voice shaky.
“I’m sorry, I’m still so sorry. I love you and I want what’s best for you and I can’t even find an excuse, I was being stupid and thinking how you’d never want me. It was all nothing, you’re the only person that’s ever meant anything, I’m so sorry. I will do anything to fix this- anything.”
“Lan,” you let out a breath, “You still want me?”
“More than anything,” he grinned and you stepped forward to reach him, locking your arms around his neck.
Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair as you pull his face down until his lips are almost touching yours. He was smiling so much you thought it might be impossible to kiss him but you pulled him into you anyway, finally kissing him again.
“Stop smiling,” you laughed, pulling away to say it before immediately kissing him again.
“What? Can I not be happy? I’m getting my girl back,” he pulled away, grinning harder, then trying to drag you back in, which was almost successful until you pulled away at the last second.
“I can barely kiss you like this and I’d really, really like to,” you giggled, tugging him back again to enjoy another impatient kiss.
Your hands were running all over his head, completely ruining his hair, but he didn’t care. His hands were wrapped around your waist, holding you impossibly close. When you finally parted he still kept you close, resting his forehead on yours.
“Are you sure you want this?” he questioned, his breath still heavy.
You kissed his cheek and looked straight into his eyes, “More than anything, I promise,” you paused for a moment, “But you’re going to have to grovel to repay all the lost time we’ve had.”
“I’m going to prove to you that I’m all in, that I want this more than I could possibly explain,” Lando promised, meaning every word. He was already planning out exactly what he wanted to do - he knew he had to work to become your official boyfriend, but he would do everything possible for you.
You just stared at him, showcasing the biggest smile you’ve ever had, eyes full of love, knowing you weren’t ever going to let each other go or even risk it again.
“God I love you,” he grinned, ignoring the fact he still hadn’t caught his breath and pulling you into another, more intimate, kiss.
taglist in reblogs
#lando norris x reader#lando norris fluff#lando norris angst#f1 x reader#lando norris smut#f1 fluff#f1 angst#lando norris blurb#lando norris f1#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine#lando x reader#lando imagine#lando norris x y/n#lando norris#lando norris x you#formula one#f1#f1 smut#f1 imagine#formula 1#charles leclerc x reader#max verstappen x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#lando norris x gn!reader#formula one angst#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 angst#formula one x reader
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imagine you live in a really small farm town, with absolutely nothing to do, the only thing to do in such a small town is to drink and fuck
so that’s exactly what you all do, one of your friends has a giant farm, with a barn that’s pretty empty with nothing but hay
it’s saturday night and you’re halfway to wasted on some homemade moonshine
the girls at the barn all wear some variation of jean shorts so short that their booty cheeks hang out, cropped flannel shirts tied in a way where their tits are also exposed, and cowboy boots
you’ve opted to ditch your normal cowboy hat for some braided pigtails instead
“i think it’s time to play some musical chairs” someone slurs behind you
the barn erupts in a roar of cheers, everyone hooting and hollering
you chug the rest of your moonshine, ready to fuck your neighbors and friends
everyone around you starts to get ready, some of the girls start pinching their nipples and pulling their tits out more, some opting to ditch their shirts all together, you see one girl’s hands sneak inside her shorts
you hike your shorts up a bit more so your ass hangs out more, you also choose to undo the button at the top, flashing the skin just above your leaky hole
you also untie your top, the scraps of your shirts hanging down to just cover your nipples, the rest of your body is on full and clear display
while you and the other sluts get ready, the guys have taken their seats around the circle, all of them stroking themselves to get their cocks nice and long and erect
someone starts the music and the girls begin to circle the men, the round officially started
the first round is always blow jobs, the first guy to breed a bitches throat is out, but that pair can fuck however the man wants while the rest of the game plays out
the music stops and you rush forward to the man in front of you
you drop to your knees, not even bothering to look at who you’re about to give head to
the dick in front of you is luckily not the biggest in the group or the smallest
the small ones tend to finish fast and the big one would’ve been too much to start off with
you lick a long stripe up the underside of the cock in front of you, you look up and make eye contact while you swirl your tongue around the tip
it’s your sister’s boyfriend, he groans and puts his hands on the back of your head
he lets you stay in control for now, both of you not wanting to be out on the first round, but the pressure at the back of your head reminds you who really is in control
you pop his tip into your mouth before quickly removing your mouth, you spit on his cock before using both hands to spread your spit up and down his full length
you make eye contact again as you take him into your mouth once more
“hands up” he commands, a little confused you raise both hands above your heads, he uses one hand to hold both of your wrists together, his other keeping a firm hold on your head
“just your mouth, slut”
you continue to suck him off, relaxing your throat so you can get his whole length into your mouth, you keep reminding yourself to breathe through your nose
you start to gag a little as he fucks your pretty face, tears and saliva starting to overflow, before he really starts to treat you like the whore you are, you hear a loud moan to your right and the round is over
the cock from your mouth is removed, but before you can get off your knees, he squeezes your mouth open and spits into it and forces you to swallow
“good girl”
some girls start to remove their bottoms, you included, the next few rounds are all in the pussy, or the ass if the man decides to switch it up
round after round you play, managing to just barely stay in the game, riding dick isn’t your favorite but you’ve cum twice already
some men play with your clit, some grope and abuse your tits, some finger your butt while pounding into you
the more you play, the more you fuck, the hornier you get
you make it to the final round, your personal favorite
instead of the cunts circling the men, the two fuckdolls left in the game get on all fours and get blindfolded
the men circle the girls and when the music stops the first girl to squirt wins the game
by this point you’re naked, your girl cum and girl juice leaking out of you and dripping down your thighs
you get blindfolded and assume position, a bitch ready for her mounting, the music starts and you wiggle your butt in excitement
the music stops and before you have time to process anything you feel fingers in your breeding hole
you’re confused as to why you weren’t immediately stuffed with cock, you moan none the less as you get a rough finger fucking
there’s three fingers in you moving at a brutal place, a second hand snakes around your front, rubbing your clit expertly
your tongue is hanging out and you’re a drooling, moaning mess
a fourth finger is roughly added and you scream in pleasure and pain, still overstimulated from the prior rounds, you rapidly approach climax
just before you’re able to finish the fingers are ripped out from you and the delicious pressure on your clit is taken away
you scream in frustration, your orgasm ruined
before you can even start begging to be filled you feel the biggest dick you’ve ever felt in your life poking at your fuckhole
you almost cum from that alone
hands are gripping into your hips so hard they’ll leave bruises, it takes some effort and it feels like the dick being stuffed inside of you is never ending
eventually whoever is behind you bottoms out
giving you no time to adjust, they pull out all the way before slamming back in, you’re roughly fucked and split open on the monster cock behind you
you can’t do anything except simply take the fucking you’ve been given like a good bimbo slut, you feel like you’re going to be split in half, your insides are on fire, but you don’t want it to stop
one hand leaves your hips and finds purchase around your throat, the pressure of being lightly choked bringing you pure ecstasy
his other hand pinches, gropes, and slaps all over your used body
you’re readjusted and the new angle allows for the man behind you to fuck you deeper and right in a spot you didn’t even know exsisted inside of you
his roaming hand ends up on your clit again, rubbing hard and fast, a little more pressure is added to your throat, a bite on your neck sends you over the edge and you cum harder than you’ve ever cum before
as you’re forced to ride out one of the best orgasms of your life, you feel hot, thick ropes of cum fill your walls
you momentarily black out from the insanely erotic feeling, when you come to you’re still being pumped in and out of
you’re declared the winner of the night, along with the man who still has not stopped breeding your fuck hole
#g4ngb4ng#nsft concept#bimbo doll#c0cksleeve#c0ckwh0re#c0ckslut#c0ckdrunk#dumb slvt#dumb wh0re#use me pls#stupid slvt#free use slvt#f1ngering#fr33use#fr33use slvt#dumb puppy#send me threats#bl0wjob#ch0ke me#breathplay#roughfuck#rough kink#size k!nk#fuck doll#rough k1nk#bd/sm breeding#breeding k1nk#submisive and breedable#bdsmkink
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Hey, anyone else think it's super duper suspicious that the Reverend Parents kicked off their abominable baby scheme pretty much simultaneously to Gideon Nav, key to the Tomb, landing on the Ninth? Gideon's more than a year but less than two years older than Harrow. So give it nine months gestation, a few months for prep and planning, and Gideon's arrival lands at exactly the place on the timeline you'd look for an inciting event to the creche massacre
And like, the Revs didn't seem shocked when they heard Harrow had opened the Tomb. They listened solemnly to Gideon spill the beans and then quietly shuffled themselves off the mortal coil, intending to take their pint sized single-serving generation with them. As far as we know they never pressured Harrow to continue the Ninth, either. They checked to make sure she was a powerful necromancer, and that was it. It's almost like they'd been waiting for this.
It's just a hell of a lot of coincidences piling up. Makes me wonder what they knew, who they'd been talking to. How much didn't they tell Harrow?
#I've posted about this before but it's still bugging me#there's so much about their actions that'd be explained if they knew the Ninth would reach the end of its purpose within Harrow's lifetime#and like they probably don't know the whole story because why would they treat the daughter of their god Like That#on the other hand.... it would explain a lot if they knew Gideon's birth was the Ninth's death knell#and then she DIDN'T DIE#it really feels like they had to have known something#but it keeps me awake at night wondering how much#the locked tomb#pelleamena novenarius#priamhark noniusvianus#the creche massacre#gideon nav#harrow nonagesimus
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With a sleepy s/o
Pairing: skz Ot8 × Gn!reader (individually)
Genre: headcanon, fluff, established relationship
Request: skz with a very sleepy s/o, kinda like han but worse lol.
Warnings: none
A/n: pink lee know can save lives | important highlight
Bang Chan
No one likes it more than him, trust me. He just loves it so much whenever you start to feel a bit drowsy and then sleep in his shoulder/lap. Partially because he thinks you're adorable when sleeping but partially because he feels he can protect you when you're vulnerable like that. He really really likes it
Lee Know
Please stop falling asleep all the time, his camera roll can't take it anymore. Seriously though, every time you sleep he takes thousands of pictures in all possible angles. He says it's because he wants to blackmail you but in reality he just finds you extremely adorable (won't admit that tho)
Changbin
He has like this sixth sense where he just knows you're about to fall asleep, no matter where he is. He physically needs to be like your pillow for whenever you're in this state. Always has a proud smile for when he manages to be there when you need him. Asks for the boys to take pictures of you both like that (they can't handle it anymore)
Hyunjin
The first time you fell asleep next to him he was a bit in shock, but now that he is used to it, he welcomes you with open arms whenever your eyes start to close. He is really satisfied with how you trust him enough to sleep around him, it never fails on making him smile
Han
We just know y'all sleeping together everywhere no matter what time it is. The world could be potentially ending but y'all would be cuddled up and sleeping on the nearest sofa. Honestly it's expected for you both to end up like this after a while, but it's also very cute of you ngl
Felix
Another one who sees this as an opportunity to cuddle everywhere, even if he doesn't feel sleepy in the slightest. He just really enjoys holding you while you dream. The boys took a picture of you both like that once to try to tease Felix but it didn't work at all, as he was extremely happy about it lmao
Seungmin
Also has a lot of pictures of you sleeping but you'll never know that because no way on earth he is showing you that, he might as well die of embarrassment. You also always wake up covered by his jacket/sweatshirt, warm and cozy.
I.N
Most likely to have you sleeping as his phone wallpaper and the least likely to change it. He's so relieved you can't see him when you're sleeping because he always gets this huge lovesick smile on him, he'd probably combust if you could see that.
Masterlist | you'll probably like: you give them flowers
Thank you for reading 🩷
Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143
Credits for images 1 , 2 and 3
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
#celi headcanons#stray kids#skz fluff#stray kids fluff#skz#stray kids soft hours#stray kids soft thoughts#skz x reader#skz x you#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagine#stray kids imagines#skz soft hours#bang chan#bang chan fluff#lee know#lee know fluff#changbin#changbin fluff#hyunjin#hyunjin fluff#han#han fluff#felix#felix fluff#seungmin#seungmin fluff#i.n fluff#i.n#yang jeongin
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i like how leverage throws in random details that are never elaborated on. hardison gets himself a front row seat at the oscars each year, but we only see that in a single throwaway flashback. parker broke a guy's fingers for touching her and it wasn't even a plot point, it was just one in a series of memories of stabbings and so forth. eliot continually knows extremely specific information which implies some extremely specific scenarios he's been in. the more we find out about sophie's backstory, the more questions it raises about what the hell is wrong with her. and the more we find out about nate's backstory, the more questions it raises about what the hell is wrong with him.
#leverageposting#leverage#parker leverage#sophie devereaux#alec hardison#eliot spencer#nathan ford#parker#wren speaks#i say all of this with affection btw. i love these silly characters and think its great that many things are left open-ended for us to fill#in or wonder about or just find really funny. their ambiguities and quirks make them feel so much more real and three dimensional.
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toji knew he couldn't get away with cockwarming; it was too risky, and he just couldn't get enough of how good it felt to be inside of you, yet he was in the dog house, and this was the closest he could get to fucking you. you weren't dumb enough to restrain him from being inside of you, yet you loved the feeling while toji didn't.
he just wanted to pump inside of you, feel himself throb against your aching wet walls, and hear your moans in his ear while he fucked you deep and rough, not just be inside you and do nothing. toji could admit he didn't have good restraint; he didn't like to be still for too long and not do anything, yet alone be inside of you and not even move an inch.
he took what he could at that point. when he made you mad, you shut down, but you could never be mad at that thing between his legs, so you only punished him a little.
you told him he could be inside of you, but that was it. one move, and he had to slip out of you, but he couldn't handle it. it drove him insane; he wanted more. he was so conflicted, but god, did you feel good.
surprisingly, this happened more times than one. he was stuck inside of you but couldn't find the heart to just slide out of you. there you were, with a sly smirk on your face, sitting on his lap with his dick deep inside of you, toji shifting in his seat uncomfortably.
he couldn't describe in words how bad he wanted you or how dry his mouth got when you moved a little, and he moved with you, hoping you wouldn't catch it.
this was such a harsh punishment that he couldn't bear to look you in the face after you sat with his dick inside of you with minimal movement for three hours straight, sweat dripping off of his forehead in anticipation of whether you were going to be the first to give in or if you were really going to be a prude and just get off of it.
he knew that along with this punishment that you came up with on a whim, he knew that you got off on not giving into his hornies and pretending not to hear his whimpers and small moans he made with every movement you made. you got off on not giving this big cry baby what he wanted; he was lucky to even feel your wet pussy cling to him.
this "punishment" got more and more constant, and that's when toji started to lose it and just break. this was the final time he was going to have your soaking wet cunt squeezed around his dick and not do anything. pushing deep inside of you repeatedly, not giving you any time to respond.
all you could do was give into the pleasure and feel how good his dick was pushing against your sweet spot, a feeling that you missed and certainly craved.
your eyes were rolling to the top of your head as his hands trailed over your body. your mouth gaped open as he pushed into you faster. his hands gripped your hips, making sure that you kept your balance and didn't fall over. he could see right through you that you wanted this for a long time but were playing the long game, smirking when he realized your goal.
as much as you loved having toji's dick inside of you with no movement, you also loved him fucking you. no one could fuck you like he could; it wasn't even possible. he perfected a technique that had your toes curling and your back arching from pleasuring all night long.
he gave you dick that other people craved and whined for, so of course you were drooling at the mouth whenever he was pushing against your sweet spot with that dick of his.
"you missed this dick, didn't you? huh? talk to me." knowing you couldn't, when he had his dick so deep inside of you, it felt like butterflies were swarming around in your stomach searching for something. it was too much; your head was spinning. from that day on.
he wasn't doing any of that cockwarming shit; if his dick was getting warmed, it was either coming from your wet, warm mouth or falling asleep with his dick inside of you.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#x reader#toji zenin#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#jjk toji#toji smut#toji x you#fushiguro toji#zenin toji#fushiguro toji x reader#fushiguro#jjk fushiguro
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The Surprise (PART 1)
"Poppy and Branch are happily married and celebrating their one year wedding anniversary with a big party, and all of Pop Village is sharing their happiness with them! Noticing Poppy's odd behavior, Branch takes a walk with her to get some air. Little does he know, Poppy is about to reveal HUGE unexpected news on this night- that she and Branch are about to be parents"
FINALLY. Part one is here after so much work lol. For anyone who doesn't know, this comic is based on a "what if" scenario in my PopPunkAU, basically a time skip where they are in their late 20's and married. To learn more about the story of my main PopPunk AU, go HERE! This isn't canon to my AU and just a fun exploration/mashup with my BroppyParentAU. I also swapped roles in this AU so that Poppy is the one that has Ivy :} Part 2 is in the works, enjoy the opening!~
#trolls#dreamworks trolls#trolls fanart#poppunk au#broppy#trolls 3#trolls 2#broppy au#broppy parent au#poppy and branch#punk rock branch#rock branch#pop princess poppy#trolls comic#my art#poppunk parent au
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love's gonna get you killed
alexia putellas x reader
summary: alexia is older, wiser, and trying to make you the best. in doing so, she loses sight of more important things.
words: 5.4k
warnings: it’s a little bit toxic and there’s an age gap
notes: the request for this can be found here. genuinely never flinched more when writing something and this is only the beginning... NEW TRILOGY TIMEEEE
p.s. it's set in two timelines and i hope you clock otherwise this will not make sense
then again, this could've been a fever dream over the past few days soooo
Morning.
Like dawn; like the freshness of dew on the grass and a light breeze. A thousand suns and the bluest of skies.
How do you even begin to describe it?
A spark?
Yes. It starts with a spark.
Barcelona play Levante. An away match for the former, but hardly a challenge. Tough games are increasingly difficult to come by with the depth of their squad (and the failings of their league), but Alexia doesn’t mind too much. The break is welcomed with open arms, and she loves nothing more than to crush her opponent.
She is merciless, but she is never unkind.
The goals come flowing like an unstoppable river; white-water rapids tearing up the shitty pitch and obliterating the Levante players. Alexia runs to stay afloat, to further prove the excellence of the club she adores, and her buoyancy is mimicked by those of equal skill.
Weirdly, an intruder survives the flood.
What was struck off as a clean sheet is flipped on its head; tainted, stained.
One goal.
One magic boot, one hero.
One player saves Levante from losing four to nil.
The small-ish crowd wildly shouts your name, well-acquainted with screaming those syllables after seeing the swoosh of the white net and the step towards victory.
Alexia’s eyebrows furrow, although she knows they are not going to lose. It’s frustrating for her, having failed to apprehend a pass somewhere down the line that had connected and connected until it found your feet and soared home. In her head, clouded with pride, it makes no sense.
Who the fuck thinks they can score against the greatest club in the world?
(Maybe, thinking about it now, Alexia is a little unkind.)
The rallying war-cry that she roars catches your smug attention. You’re glad she thinks you’re a threat, even if your team is technically being thrashed.
Somehow, Alexia assigns herself to mark you. The fluidity of Barcelona’s formation allows for the defence to press higher than their manager’s instructions, and, as you are clearly the best Levante has, you are all over the ball; drawn deeper into the action. You almost forget the definition of ‘striker’, too engaged in the midfield.
You’ll be bollocked for it later, you think when there’s a brief reprieve, the ball rolling out of play for a Barcelona throw-in. You look at the gap you have left in the front line and the chaos you have caused in the midfield, and you try to convince yourself to return to the game-plan. But then there’s Alexia Putellas, her hand pressed against your back, fingers gripping your shirt to stop you from intercepting the bouncing ball as it hurtles towards one of her own.
Alexia Putellas has a decisive grip on you. She pulls you back, and she makes it seem easy.
You take one look at her expression, jaw clenched as she concentrates on ripping your team to shreds, and feel the need to roll your eyes.
Her determination to embarrass you is admirable enough. It’s clear that Alexia can’t handle losing in any capacity. It’s clear that she cares.
She is worried, and that is obvious too.
She doesn’t let you get very far from her, despite the shouts for extra coverage down the middle. Alexia is clever when it comes to football, and she can smell talent like a blood-thirsty shark. Preoccupying herself with defending meaningless passes that only wind the clock down would be useless; it will always be useless when you are on the pitch.
Because you’re good. Really good. Young, fresh, talented, and just what the Barcelona squad might need.
The ball comes to your feet and she is ready to quell the threat. She faces you, her closed defending designed to make you feel caged. However, when the ball slips between her open legs, she is left to catch smoke in the wind, and, though it’s at her own expense, she is impressed.
Just like that, something ignites.
...
Alexia wakes up with a low, determined groan. Her alarm is loud and you begin to move in your sleep, distressed by its intense, relentless mission to rouse the entire world. Alexia doesn’t care if you want to sleep in. She thinks you should be foaming at the mouth to train with her today.
It’s the day after the latest league match.
Together, Alexia and you scored three shared goals. The connection on the pitch is undeniable, and has been since Barcelona leapt at the chance to sign you at the start of last season.
She’s an impactful player and is lethal when her passes are fired towards you.
Days like these are tests. You hear the alarm and know you are waking up beside your captain, not your girlfriend.
The alarm might as well signify the start of another trial; another exam. Do you want to be good, or the best? Do you know that talent is not everything?
Whenever the questions appear, more in her eyes than on her sharp tongue, you hold back your remark. It’s the same every time.
Maybe I don’t want to be the best, Alexia.
Maybe I have more talent than you, Alexia.
Captain Alexia Putellas is easier to shout at than the woman you love.
...
Levante loses but you do not seem disheartened; you’re only twenty, and there will be many more matches to win in the future.
You wipe the sweat from your brow, laughing at how some of the Barcelona players grimace as you hold out the same hand for them to shake. They are mostly the younger ones; those you know from the national team.
They ask you whether you’re going to celebrate your goal later. There’s no real reputation of partying attached to your name, but there is a certain standard that comes with being a young and bright star. Kick-off was early, and it would be a good day to explore Valencia’s nightlife.
“I’m going home tonight,” you explain pointedly, just to stop them from further taking the piss.
“No way.”
“Yeah, we’re having dinner.”
“You and your family are–?”
“I’m trying to move past it,” you reply. It’s curt and a clear end to the conversation. The crowd of players disperses soon after and you are following the victors back to Barcelona before you know it.
A sleek, black car picks you up from the station with more than the necessary fanfare. The driver’s window rolls down, revealing an unfamiliar face; dark sunglasses, starch-ironed shirt.
“You’re new,” you mutter to the driver as you slide into the backseat. He remains silent. “Where did the last one go? It hasn’t been that long.” He couldn’t have died or anything, you’re sure of it.
It has only been, what, four years since you were last here?
Your parents divorced when you were seven. Like most cases, you were caught in the crossfire, but that was hardly traumatic enough.
They were liberal and believed in your emotional capacity with slightly more vigour than it deserved. They told you all the gory details: who slept with whom; who should go to Hell.
The most gruesome part was the debate about who should keep you. It was a bloody battle, but not a choice a seven-year-old was able to make. And your father, the pathetic man he had become, bowed out after a month, fucking right off to Munich with a new job and bitterness in his heart that led him to vow to never, ever be in contact with you again. He lost and he chose to keep on losing.
Fatherless, it was easy to attach yourself to the man your mother began to rebuild her life with. He was caring and he made your spiralling mother happier, funding lavish shopping trips and holidays.
You moved into his house in the most affluent part of Barcelona – that was home, even if it didn’t quite feel like it.
But you grew older, and so did the wonderfully in-love couple. Your father’s nose moulded itself onto your face, and his eyes grew more prominent whenever your mother tried to converse with you. It haunted her, your likeness, and it was unsettling to the man who wanted a family of his own.
There was an easy route to rid themselves of you: boarding school in the US. You cried, riddled with homesickness, every night for months, while they procreated as though they had no pre-existing child. Soon came twins; a mix of their own, a family of their own.
So they became four, and, at sixteen, you became one; emancipated and ready to train in the Wolfsburg academy, having progressed quite well through the years at school (earning your call-up to Spain’s youth teams, winning a few medals, showing off what you considered the talent that made your existence worthwhile – the usual).
“Hi,” you say as the door to the mansion swings open. The marble floors are vaguely familiar, but the two boys peering at you behind the housekeeper are not. “Is, um, dinner ready yet?”
...
With the alarm still blaring, Alexia runs a warm hand down your bare back, calloused fingers pressing into the divot of your spine. It is always like this with her: one thing said by her actions, another by her mouth. The nature of the message flips and switches as she pleases, but she never seems to be entirely able to make up her mind.
You sigh into the pillow, burnt by the flames left in the wake of her touch. “I’m tired.” The sound is muffled but clear enough to slowly tick down the seconds until the bomb explodes. “I’m tired from last night, Ale. From the match and, you know…”
She shuts the alarm off. It’s an hour earlier than what it needs to be, but once upon a time, there was a reason for that.
You catch a glimpse of the past behind your closed eyes as you feel her weight shift on the bed, legs straddling your hips as the sheets are pulled down to expose more of your bare skin. Her hands traverse your body, pressing into the muscles of your back with too much pressure and none at all. She is a lead weight and she is a ghost.
She is full of contradictions.
“You need to come with me today.” She grazes over a purpling bruise, inflicted by her own ravenous mouth. You hiss in pain, but it is forgotten the minute her lips kiss the crime scene with something almost apologetic.
“Baby, I’m too tired to train.”
“Your passes were sloppy.” Kisses trail across the backs of your shoulders, the base of your neck, the middle of a canvas she wants nothing more than to wreck over and over again. “And you were lucky to scrape your goal.” Her teeth sink into your flesh experimentally; the sharp pain gone before you begin to process it. “It was a beautiful goal, though. You looked beautiful scoring it.”
You groan, your body arching involuntarily into her touch, pulled in by something stronger than your will. Alexia is intoxicating; Alexia clouds your mind. “I missed that shot,” she continues, dangerously close to anger. “Your fault.”
“How was it–” You whimper as she targets the knots in your back. “How was it my… my fault?”
Her fingers dig into the tightness of your muscles, unaffected by how you tense beneath her. They are sore, but it is more than that.
Alexia has trapped you, and you are at her mercy.
It sends shivers down your spine.
“Because,” she whispers, her breath hot against your ear, “I was too busy watching you. You’re such a fucking distraction, you know.”
“Ale…”
Her laughter is musical but plays a haunting melody that prickles the hairs at the back of your neck. “Don’t be so desperate,” she purrs, her hands roaming lower with a searing heat behind them. “I missed a hattrick because of you, and it was pathetic.”
You whine.
“Tell me what you need, and maybe I’ll give it to you.”
Your breath hitches, the words caught in your throat. She knows exactly what she’s doing, how to unravel you piece by piece until you’re begging for her.
She loves it when you beg.
“I…” You’re not a stranger to demanding things. You’re not pathetic, you’re not. “You. I need you.”
“Good girl,” she murmurs, rewarding you with a kiss that sears your skin. Her hand slips lower, teasing the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, making you gasp. “But you have to earn it. You can’t afford to make the mistakes you made yesterday again.”
You’re no longer listening. It’s not what you want to hear.
...
Unwelcome is the word that first springs to mind.
There is a long, mahogany trench table set, looking unnatural with the five places that throw the balance off. As though to emphasise your differences, you are ushered to the head of the table by the housekeeper, your half-brothers hesitating at the open doorway of the dining room, almost afraid to be alone with you.
You remember being told your mother had given birth by the housemistress at school. She’d offered to see if you could get on a flight home, but no request for your presence had come; the hint had been received loud and clear.
If they didn’t want you, you didn’t want them.
But you don’t miss the shirt one of the boys is wearing.
“Where’d you get that?” you ask curiously, encouraging them to approach with a tight-lipped smile. The one dressed in a Levante shirt looks at the other.
“It’s his,” they say at the same time. It’s a little creepy.
“Papa wouldn’t let us get your name, but that’s what we wanted.”
“You guys like football?” you ask, forcing a casual tone.
They nod enthusiastically, thumbs poking into their chests as they state their positions and opinionated ranking on the local team. “We get our teammates to watch your highlights. We’re gonna see you at Barça next season!”
“How do you know I’m going to Barça next season?” you tease. “Because I didn’t even know that.”
“Papi’s friends with Sr. Laporta, tonta.” Frowning, you grow less amused of the tidbit. Maybe your stepfather feels guilty. Maybe he wants to give your career an unnecessary helping hand. But you’d rather be sent into the Queen’s League than sign because of your connections.
Despite the tension hanging in the air, you lean back in the chair, trying to ease the stiffness in your shoulders. The eyes of your half-brothers flicker between you and the table. You’re a stranger to them, and their apprehension is understandable. It stings, but it isn’t your fault.
The housekeeper returns, clearing her throat to interrupt the stilted silence. “Dinner will be served shortly,” she announces, her eyes avoiding yours. You scrutinise her, trying to remember whether she was there when you were first sent away. Is she new? “Boys, why don’t you fetch your father from his study?”
Emboldened by the prospect of their escape, the one in a Levante shirt steps forward. “Can we play after dinner?”
Before you can answer, a familiar voice interrupts. "Boys, give your sister some space." They are scurrying away in an instant.
You look up to see your mother standing in the doorway, her expression stern. There's an awkward pause as she takes a seat at the other end of the table, her eyes never meeting yours.
"Good to see you," she says, her tone clipped. You nod, acknowledging her presence without offering a response. “I was surprised to hear you were coming. Have you run out of money?”
“I have money.”
"Then why now?" she presses, her eyes still avoiding yours. The question hangs in the air as you take your time to answer it. Past arguments seep into the room, and, despite the large windows and high ceilings, you feel trapped.
You take a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure. "I wanted to see my family," you say, the words feeling foreign on your tongue.
Your mother's lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you think she might actually say something kind. But instead, she shifts her gaze to the polished surface of the table. "Well, here we are," she says, her tone flat.
...
There is something about the soft way Alexia cares for you that keeps you by her side. She’s not a bad person, and she is sorry when she is mean. You can be worse, so, really whose fault is it? Sometimes you provoke her.
None of that matters now, though. Not in the airy space after sex and before the world begins to turn again. The sun is beginning to rise now, bathing the room in fresh light that must unsettle your girlfriend. She is trying to calm herself down, lying beside you to regain her strength before she will haul you both up.
If you hadn’t wanted to train, you should never have spoken this morning.
Your fingers draw lazy patterns on her stomach, nails grazing up and down tanned skin as you trace out words you cannot bring yourself to say. In this moment, everything feels perfect. You’re not sure whether your mind is still clouded with desire, but you have to close your eyes to stop tears from falling.
“I love you,” you whisper, voice barely audible.
“I love you too,” she replies.
It’s easy to say it because it’s true.
It’s true because Alexia has been there for you like no one else.
Your whole life has felt like a terminal at an airport. Everyone around you has their own emotions about their own adventures, and the crowd rushes to various gates – various destinations – with urgency you have never sought, nor found. You often stand in the middle of the bustling, bumbling mass of people, head in your hands, wondering why they seem to know where life is taking them.
When you signed for Barcelona, it was a surprise. You hadn’t believed your little brothers when they had let it slip, and you were certain your worth was going to be exploited in another league – maybe you’d go back to Wolfsburg, maybe you’d explore abroad. Maybe your mother sending you away was a good thing, because it proved that Spain wasn’t your home.
Sure, you held the passport and spoke the languages, but… but maybe you didn’t belong.
Then came Alexia, who told you the opposite of what you were starting to live by.
Alexia – older, wiser, with a clear head on her shoulders and a drive like no other – wanted you to stay, wished you’d see yourself for what was so clearly in front of her eyes. You knew you were talented, but she knew you could be the best.
Just like she was.
Because Alexia was aware of the intricacies of ageing, of how experience was not going to be her saviour in the very end. She was focused on a legacy: her brilliance would live on in you.
She loved you for it.
She loves you still.
You can feel her heartbeat, steady and reassuring. Dawn casts shadows across Alexia’s features, hiding the dark circles under her eyes in a bath of dim grey. She smiles, and the tenderness in her gaze is reserved for you, reserved for moments like these. She reaches out, fingers brushing your cheek gently.
“We should get up,” she murmurs.
You nod, knowing she’s right. Alexia is always right; you’ve learnt that over the years you have been together. “Just a few more minutes,” you mumble back anyway.
Hands slide over your waist, pulling you into her body. Her laugh is quiet and giggly, full of love and fondness for a sentence she had predicted you’d say. “Okay,” she agrees. “So we’ll do three hours today, not two. Yeah?”
...
The dinner doesn’t last very long for you, although that may be because you make it painfully clear you want to leave after the first course. Your stepfather catches on – you question if he had been hoping for this – and jumps at the chance to drive you to a high-end restaurant in central Barcelona that he is sure you will enjoy.
He knows the chef, he says. He’ll wave money in your face and pretend that it makes these things forgivable.
You’re hardly arguing though, so there’s not much room for complaint.
The restaurant welcomes you into the cocktail bar, having awaited your arrival after being enticed by the name of the credit card attached to the tab. Your stepfather is well-known around these parts, and although the notion of a fifth member of his perfect family has been obscured for a long time, there is a shared surname between you and your little brothers that offers you half a place in this small shroud of gente rica.
Sitting alone at the bar, you order a martini. The glass is cold against your fingertips, and a shiver runs down your spine despite the warmth of the busy restaurant. It’s loud here, with every table full of happy, wealthy patrons who do both business and pleasure all at once, but you feel distant, disconnected.
You don’t belong here.
It’s a struggle of yours.
You never seem to belong anywhere; always an afterthought, always an add-on.
There is no space that is moulded to fit your body, no path that has been carved out solely for you. (Or, if there is, it is really fucking hard to find.)
Football is sort of your thing, but the whole nature of professional sport is to fight hard so you don’t get replaced – therefore implying that no one is inherently one-of-a-kind.
Sometimes, you convince yourself that that isn’t what you want, but that is a lie. Everyone wants to be unique. Everyone wants to be loved for who they are.
A tap on your shoulder pulls you out of your self-damning thoughts.
“Are you alone?”
You turn to find Alexia Putellas standing beside you, her eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and something else you can’t quite place. It seems she is more surprised to see you here than you are to see her, but she swallows her comment to look you up and down.
Her scrutiny is intimidating. Maybe that is how you are supposed to feel, maybe that is what she wants. After all, the intensity of the match still lingers in your aching muscles, and seeing her now, out of the context of football kits and harsh tackles, is almost surreal.
“Alexia, hi,” you say, forcing a smile.
She repeats her question firmly, concern knitting her brows together. She’s wearing makeup, but you decide she doesn’t need it.
Alexia is really pretty. You get lost on your way to answer her.
She places a hand on the same shoulder she tapped, unaware of how your skin sizzles because of her touch, fearing you will run away from her. You have a skittish look about you, she’s noticed, and, for some reason, she wants you to stay put.
“Come, sit.” Her hand waves in the direction of her table, filled with women around her age who must be her friends. A part of you finds it unfair that Alexia appears to have friends because someone once said sacrifices are the bricks that pave the way to success, but you put it out of mind to deal with politely declining her invitation.
Your hesitation only seems to spur her on, however.
“You remind me of me, you know.” Your martini glass is empty, and her nose wrinkles with disapproval.
“I do?” you ask, interested in what similarity she is going to draw between you.
She holds up two fingers to the bartender, mouthing her order with a small smirk, before looking down at you from where she stands and you sit, inspecting your face. Her fingers gently wrap around your chin, and she tilts your head upwards. “You have that look in your eyes.”
Laughter rings out from her table, followed quickly by calls for her to return to her meal. She ignores the noise, focused entirely on you.
Alexia tries to suppress her thoughts of how beautiful you look – how ruggedly captivating, how… enticing – and she is sure she is successful.
Until you lick your lips and ask her to elaborate.
She is silent for a moment.
It’s the first time someone has made you feel like nothing and everything all at once; like the brightest star in the galaxy, like an unused lump of clay. Like you are both wondrous and plain. Exceptional and just like everyone else.
Alexia’s and… not.
You are completely at her mercy.
You agree to join her and her friends for dinner.
As you approach the table, the group welcomes you with warm smiles and a polite interest in who you are. Alexia’s introduction makes you blush as she details your goal and the success attributed to you at such a young age (she emphasises that part for her own conscience), and it is only a moment before you settle into an empty seat beside her, somehow put at ease.
The conversation resumes its flow, light and lively, but Alexia is distracted from the discussion of their next holiday. She has questions, many of them, and she figures you are detached from the Catalan they speak in and are silently begging for a language you do understand.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Alexia murmurs in Spanish, leaning in a bit closer. “Figured you’d, you know, be licking your wounds in Valencia.”
Two drinks are delivered to your table; one for you, one for Alexia. She watches your lips as they part to take a sip, pinching her own thigh when she catches herself.
“I used to play for Levante,” she continues as you stoically nurse your drink. “When I was younger, Barça sent me off to get some experience. They called me back soon enough.”
“I never played for Barça.” She raises her eyebrows in surprise, more so for your assumption of her assumption than anything else. You notice her expression. You laugh and Alexia finds she’s quite a fan of that sound. “I’m from Barcelona, Alexia. I speak Catalan and everything.”
“You don’t sound–”
“My stepfather has a house in Sarrià and told me to fuck off to boarding school when I was younger. So I went to America and I had to do Spanish classes, and ‘cause I’d renounced my family, it was like learning Castellano all over again.”
“Like a madrileña,” Alexia finishes off, amused. “Boarding school, eh?”
“Lost my parents, lost my accent. Childhood of dreams,” you respond sarcastically. “I’ve just come from a family dinner, actually. I left after the starter because… well, it fucking sucked seeing my mother pretend–” You hold your tongue, embarrassed. “Sorry, I don’t mean to dump it all on you. The martini’s loosened my lips.”
Your laugh this time is self-deprecating and a little painful to hear. Alexia shakes her head and is about to encourage you to carry on, when she catches the heat rising to your cheeks and wonders whether that would be for the best. Instead, she thinks you might prefer to hear something else. “How about another drink after you’re done with that?”
The rest of the night is a blur.
Alexia is torn between wanting to impress you and wanting to protect you. She doesn’t know which to follow: the reasonable responsibility drilled into her head, captain of Barcelona, captain of Spain… or the pulse between her legs that grows stronger every time her gaze falls to the low-cut top you’re wearing. It’s this desire that must destroy her judgement, and, after you have insisted on paying for the meal with your stepfather’s credit card, Alexia finds herself having to text the younger girls at Barça to see if any of them can come get you.
Pina’s busy, Cata’s out with her friends, and Jana claims she’s emetophobic.
Briefly, Alexia wonders if she imagined you being friends with any of them, but, at the end of the day (or beginning – as it is rapidly approaching tomorrow), she really does have to take you somewhere. She won’t let your half-catatonic body lie on the streets of Barcelona, and so she hauls you into a taxi and waves goodbye to her friends.
“Interesting recruitment method for the B team,” jokes one of them as they disperse. “Wait, sorry. You waxed lyrical about her tonight enough for me to know that she’d be on the first team with you.”
“Her contract must be in the works,” Alexia agrees, choosing to ignore the saccharine tone such a compliment was voiced with. “I swear, she’s going to be the best.”
You’re not paying attention to any of this, of course, too busy pressing your hand against the glass of the taxi’s window, giggling every time you imprint the shape of your palm. “Alexia!” you call out, wanting her to share your enjoyment. “Alexia, look!”
She turns to look at you, her stern expression softening when she sees how your eyes have lit up. She can’t help but smile at the innocence of your little game, and if the taxi driver raises his eyebrows in the rearview mirror, Alexia chooses not to notice.
“Very impressive,” she says, cringing at how she sounds like she is soothing a child. You seem even younger now, especially when your ears perk up as she speaks in Catalan, a picture of something you confessed to have lost years ago.
It’s a horrible conflict to have brewing inside of her, and she shakes her head, trying to clear it. Her composure becomes harder to maintain with you being pressed up against her in the backseat, but all thoughts she has are thrown into a deep, dark ditch that she decides to deal with at a later date.
“Where are we going?” you ask, your voice slurred and eyes wide with curiosity.
“My place,” comes the simple reply. It’s the only option left. She knows she can make sure you’re safe, and, besides, the idea of you at her place feels comforting, as though it were not supposed to be any other way.
When the taxi finally pulls up outside her apartment building, Alexia pays the driver and helps you out of the car. You falter like a newborn foal learning to walk, and she encourages you to lean heavily on her so that the journey inside will be quicker. The walk to her door feels longer, and each step is tentative as she continues to debate her decision.
But she’s going to care for you. That’s all.
You marvel at her apartment, which shocks her after she has learnt about your childhood, but she takes the compliment and guides you to her bedroom under the guise of giving you a ‘tour’. The spare bedroom is unusable, seeing as the bed has become the latest storage cupboard for her boxes of awards and PR packages, so, again, this is the only option.
You collapse unceremoniously onto her mattress with a loud sigh.
Alexia stands there for a moment, watching as you settle into her bed. As much as responsibility and protectiveness hangs over her head, she also feels something much deeper inside of her beginning to swirl into a storm. She’s not ready to acknowledge it yet.
Taking a deep breath, she glances at you once more. “You need to rest.” Her voice carries the authority of the woman she is; a woman who is much older and wiser and who has more power than ethical to be feeling any kind of attraction towards you. Her hand hovers over you, brushing a stray hair from your forehead. The warmth of your skin under her fingertips sends a jolt through her, but she quickly pulls her hand back, focusing on her current task.
“Thanks, Alexia,” you mumble, already half-asleep.
After that close-call, she rights herself, looking around her room for a moment before heading to the kitchen to fetch you a glass of water. She places it on the bedside table, knowing you'll need it in the morning, not wanting to wake you up to drink it now. She then finds a spare blanket and a pillow, setting up a makeshift bed for herself on the sofa in the living room.
Exhausted from the day, she expects to fall asleep quickly, but she is tortured by the same question, over and over again.
How the fuck did she get here?
#this one might be build up#it may get worse#woso#woso x reader#woso fanfics#barca femeni#woso imagines#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas
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Teeth
Hardersson x Child!Reader
Part of The Big Adventures Universe
Summary: Pernille does it again
"I don't want to talk about it," Pernille says as Georgia slides into the cubby next to her.
"I wasn't going to say anything!" Georgia lies.
"I still don't want to talk about it," Pernille insists," No comment. I'm not talking about it with anyone. I'm not answering any questions."
"You don't need to," Georgia assures her," Because your kid is letting everyone know what happened."
Currently, you're on Sydney's lap, pealing back your upper lip to show off the gap that your two front teeth used to occupy.
They'd both come out last night.
Only one had been wobbly.
Pernille buries her head in her hands and forces herself not to scream. "I need to teach her that not everyone needs to know our business."
Georgia chuckles. "I don't know," She says," She seems pretty happy to tell everyone. You'd take that joy away from her?"
"It's humiliating."
Georgia keeps giggling, especially when you gesture wildly over to Pernille to accentuate your story.
It was an accident again, like the first time you lost a tooth. Thankfully, a ball hadn't been kicked in your face but this time it seemed liked it was much worse.
It had been hot out yesterday and Magda insisted on a barbeque while her family was visiting.
You'd been inside, dragging your new schoolwork down to show your grandparents because you'd gotten a certificate for it.
You'd taken your time so Pernille thought it would be a little funny to scare you as you came out.
She'd jumped at you when you came through the door and you'd shrieked, jumping in the air before stumbling.
Everyone was laughing before they realised you had gone face first into the steps of the outside decking.
Magda sat you up which was when you spat out your two front teeth into her hands.
It was mortifying that it had happened a second time, Pernille accidentally being the cause of your teeth falling out.
This time though, a little older than the first, you didn't seem to care much about the pain in your mouth, just that you were going to get a big cash out from the tooth fairy.
You also seem incapable of keeping the story to yourself, having come into training today ready to show off your tooth gap, your newly acquired lisp and the amount of money you got.
It's the money bit that has Magda staring daggers at Pernille from across the locker room and Pernille agrees that she may have gone overkill but she'd already set a precedent and she doesn't want you staging a revolt against the tooth fairy for your lack of money this time.
No matter what Magda says about explaining the concept of inflation to you, Pernille knows that you won't accept anything else then the ten euros you got previously.
Plus the amount added on that Pernille knows will wave her feeling of guilt.
"The tooth fairy gave me thirty euros!" You tell Sydney and Scottish Sam," Fifteen for each tooth!"
"So cool!" Sydney tells you while Sam's mouth hangs open in shock.
"Because of inflation I got more!" You continue," The tooth fairy wrote me a note saying so. I don't know what inflation is but I like it!"
"I'm sure you do," Magda says, picking you up and setting you back on the floor," But let's put the money away now."
"Thirty euros?" Georgia hisses at Pernille as you and Magda go off to put your money because in your little puppy purse," Can you be my tooth fairy?"
"Don't," Pernille groans," It's guilt money. I feel really bad."
"Why? They were bound to come out at some point."
"That's not the point! They weren't ready and now she's got no front teeth."
"But she's thirty euros richer. That has to count for something."
"It counts for me not sleeping in my bed tonight," Pernille mutters.
You're back to flitting around the room now, practically skipping on air to tell everyone how Pernille made you smack your face against the decking steps in front of the whole family and how you had to have your barbeque cut up for you instead of just scoffing it down like everyone else.
That seems to be your main annoyance with this whole thing. How you couldn't eat your barbeque like normal. In the grand scheme of things, Pernille supposes, you could have had a much worse reaction.
She should take the small wins when they come.
The small wins like now as you sit on the bench next to Magda and inspect your gap with your tongue.
The space from the wobbly tooth is already being filled in, its replacement already coming in.
You seem to be fairly distracted by inspecting your mouth rather than complaining about your gums hurting so Pernille will take the win for what it is.
"Momma," You call out to her," Next time, can you knock out three of my teeth so I can get more money?"
#woso x reader#hardersson x reader#pernille harder x reader#pernille harder#magdalena eriksson x reader#magdalena eriksson#woso community#woso imagine#woso fanfics#woso#the big adventures universe
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Just One
DBF!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 819 (she just a baby!)
Summary: You’re still worked up even though Joel’s tapped out for the night. Maybe you need a kiss to satisfy you—a simple, sweet kiss. Right?
Content/Tags: Reader is able-bodied and has female sex anatomy, but is otherwise undescribed. Pussy pronouns (she)!! 18+ MDNI. Making out. Bulge grinding 😋 let me know if there’s anything I missed!
A/N: @pinkypromisepascal and I had a conversation…and then I said I wanted to write a drabble based on what we talked about, to which she said “DO IT.” So I did. Y’all better thank her brain for this too!🙂↕️ and to @strang3lov3, thank you for the extra pair of eyes AND THE MOODBOARD!!!😭 I love you both so much. To everyone, I hope you enjoy, all my love xx
masterlist | update blog
It’s been thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes since Joel had you folded nearly in half, your legs pressed against your torso, the slam of his hips pushing you higher up his mattress.
Thirty minutes since he made your eyes roll back, throat burning in pleasure.
Thirty minutes since he wiped you clean and massaged your hips.
It’s been thirty minutes.
And he’s knocked the fuck out.
You sit up in his bed. You’re not here very often. Ever, really. It was by chance you stayed over tonight. So you study the area. Take his space in. The painting and posters above his bed. The nightstand. The white fan sitting on his dresser, pointing directly at him. He runs hot when he sleeps. Too hot.
Your eyes trace his figure, then. His broad back on display, hips covered by his sheets.
His face. God, his face. Salt and pepper scruff around the edges, smile lines and furrowed eyebrow lines adorning his face. They’re not as harsh now as he succumbs deeper into his slumber, but they’re present nonetheless.
His hooked nose sits prettily, the same nose that had you squirming and gasping for air earlier in the night. Your core flutters at the thought.
You’re looking at his lips now, and you can’t help the way your own forms a smirk.
“Joel,” you whisper.
A rock. Unmoving. Unfazed.
On your knees now, you shuffle to face him. Leaning forward, hand on his shoulder to nudge him, you try again.
“Joel.”
“Hm?” his sleepy voice rasps.
“I need your help,” you respond.
One eye peels open. His eyebrows move into their natural habitat, furrowed. “What’s wrong, darlin’?”
You put on your sweetest face. “Can I have a kiss?”
You stifle a giggle at the daggers being thrown at you. “Jesus,” he mutters. “Have you been up this whole time?”
“It’s been thirty minutes,” you retort.
“No, it ain’t—” you gesture to his clock before he can finish his thought. He faces it immediately, throwing his face back into his pillow with an incoherent grumble. “Sleep,” he finally says.
“I will, sleeping beauty,” you giggle. “Can I please have a kiss first? Just one,” you ask again, lowering your voice an octave, a tone he can never deny.
He flips himself over, so he’s more on his back now. “It’s never just one.”
“That’s not true,” you fake pout, leaning closer in, letting the tips of your nose dance.
“You said one kiss months ago. Look where that got us.” His breath fans against your lips.
“I don’t see you complaining,” you whisper, your body on fire with this conversation.
You let your lips finally meet, soft and sweet, but the heat building in your cheeks keeps you from breaking the seal. Without thinking, you climb on top of him, straddling him as your hands find the base of his neck, the length beneath you already beginning to stir.
You break away for less than a second before you bring your lips to his again, but he’s quick to stop you, a shit-eating grin between his cheeks. “Thought ya said one?” He breathes.
“Shut up,” you murmur, smashing your lips against his once more as your tongue coasts the expanse of his bottom lip, the taste of you from earlier still lingering.
“Shit, sugar,” he groans into your mouth, his hips bucking into you on their own accord. “She’s still so needy, ain’t she? That why ya can’t sleep?”
His bulge catches perfectly where you need him most, pulling a whimper from the back of your throat. “Please, baby,” you pant.
“Told ya ‘s never jus’ one kiss,” he rasps as his heavy hands grab at your waist, guiding your hips into a more frenzied rhythm.
“You’re right,” you cry, eyes clamping shut, nothing but the sweet sounds of your ecstasy blessing his ears.
Too blissed out to continue kissing him, you bring your lips to his jaw, nipping and licking the places you can reach. With a few harsh grinds of your hips, you’re moaning out into his ear—his partially deaf one, luckily—with millions of white sparkles flashing beneath your eyelids. Joel’s breathing stops at the same moment your body convulses, strangled grunts leaving his throat as he adds to your mess of his boxers.
“She satisfied, yet?” He hums as you lay across his sweaty chest.
“Mmm,” you pretend to think it over. “I think it’s her turn for a kiss now.”
Joel scoffs. You can hear his smile with it.
You lift your head to look him in the eyes, a faux innocence in the way you jut out your bottom lip. “Just one, baby,” you reason with him.
Joel tosses you to your unspoken side of the bed. “Sleep.”
“But—”
“She’ll get her kiss in the morning.”
Your eyes nearly pop out at the realization of his words. “G-Goodnight, baby,” you reply quickly.
“‘S what I thought. G’night, darlin’.”
I would love to hear what you guys think! I love you all so much, thank you for always sticking by my side and supporting me always. You all are my happy place. Wouldn't be where I am without you.🩶
I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.
#endless thoughts fics#pedro pascal#pedrohub#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#smut#pedrostories#fic#smut fic#drabble#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel x reader#joel miller fluff#joel miller x female reader#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#tlou smut#joel miller drabble#fic: just one
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Shattered | Lewis Hamilton
WC: 7K
Lewis x reader
Summery:(REQUESTED) You and Lewis have been in a long term relationship, he's on a triple header and you decide to surprise him only to walk in on him in bed with your childhood friend, more over you're pregnant with his baby.
Warning: cheating, cursing, pregnancy, miscarriage, blood, drugs, Sorry to all Carlas out there, but I just generated a name
A.N: This is longer that I was anticipating but it needed to be long.
Masterlist
You have been with Lewis for years, five years to be exact. Enough time for him to be integrated into your friend group. You usually try to travel with him as much as you can, but sometimes due to work commitments it’s hard for you to follow him. Saving your days off for the important races and his days off so you could relax together. One of your friends, Carla, was in between jobs at one point but wasn’t able to find anything. So Lewis being the man he is, offered her a spot in his team, and so Carla has been travelling with him a lot since then.
So she was the person you went to when you wanted to surprise Lewis, he was not expecting you this weekend at all, and you managed to get time off to see him. It’s been 2 weeks since you saw each other and you were itching to go see him.
Your heart fluttered with excitement and anticipation as you approached the hotel door, after 2 weeks of separation, you couldn’t wait to be in Lewis’s arms again. You smile to yourself, relishing the surprise you planned for him. Slipping the keycard into the lock, you push the door open, your anticipation building with each passing second.
The last thing you thought would happen, happened. The sight that greeted you inside shattered all your hopes and dreams in an instant. The smile wiped from your face, just like that.
There, on the bed, lay Lewis,your partner of five years, his eyes unfocused and distant. And straddling him, with a look of brazen disregard, was Carla, your childhood friend, her confidante, her sister in all but blood. But there was nothing familiar about the way she straddled Lewis, her movements possessive and predatory.
Your mind reeled, unable to process the surreal things unfolding before you. You watched in stunned disbelief as Carla leaned in close to Lewis, her lips brushing against his ear in whispered intimacy. But there was no warmth in the embrace, no tenderness in the caress. Lewis seemed so drunk he showed no reaction to what’s happening around him. The shock was like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs and leaving you reeling in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. Not to you. Not with the two people you trusted most in the world.
"Carla- Lewis." The words caught in your throat, your voice a mere whisper against the oppressive silence of the room.
"y/n..." Carla's voice cut through the suffocating silence, but there was no remorse in her tone, only a chilling indifference. "I didn't expect you so soon."
Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of the betrayal unfolding in front of you. Lewis wouldn't do this to you, and neither would Carla. But as you looked into their eyes, Lewis's vacant and Carla's calculating ones, you knew the truth. They had betrayed you, and they had done it knowingly.
A surge of anger and hurt threatened to overwhelm you.
“C-Carla, why are you- on t-top of Lewis like that?” You asked, voice trembling with anger and betrayal but most of all hurt.
“It's not what you think, y-y/n. Lewis wasn't feeling well, so I was just... helping him.” Carla tried to reason, she’s no longer on top of Lewis, she picked up his shirt that you bought for him and slipped it on.
“Helping him?” You scoffed, your eyes flashing with fury. “Cut the crap! Lewis, what the hell are you doing with her?”
“y/n, please, let me explain.” Carla pleaded with you and you shook your head.
“Explain? Explain what, Carla? That you're on top of my boyfriend?” This is all too much, even with her words, and her pleading with you, it all sounded fake. She’s not sorry and there’s no explanation to this, she knew what she was doing.
“Y/n? B-baby? What are you doing h-here?” Lewis sounded so out of it, shit drunk for sure. Lewis isn’t the type to drink a lot. You can remember all the times he was so drunk he was out of it, it’s so not like him. But it’s also not like Carla to be naked on top of your naked boyfriend.
“Fucking herll, I trusted you, i trusted you both.” Tears of betrayal well up in your eyes. “The girl I considered my sister and the man I love more than anything in my life, how could you? Honestly, how could you?”
Carla stutters and Lewis tried to move but he couldn’t even support his own weight, leaving you to scoff, and strom out of the room, as you fled down the hallway, tears stream down your face, your heart shattering into a million irreparable pieces by the two people you trusted most.
“y/n!” A familiar voice calls your name, on instinct you stop and turn, only to see Sebastian there, you have no idea what the former F1 driver is doing here but seeing him made you cry more. Seb was there when your relationship started with Lewis, he’s seen it all. “What happened? Do you want me to find Lewis for you?”
“No, I don’t want to see that asshole again in my life.” You spit out, Seb frowns at your words, but he says nothing. He just pulls you in his arms and hugs you.
“It’s okay, darling, it’s okay.” Seb tries to comfort you, but you shake your head no.
“It’s not okay, Seb, and it never will be.” You pull back, wiping your tears away. “You should go check on him, so he wouldn’t choke on his spit… or leave him, what do I care.”
“Are you sure?” Sebastian wasn’t sure about leaving you in this state, he’ll have a word with Lewis about whatever he’s done to leave you like that. He’s never seen you like this.
“Yes, I’m catching the next flight home.” You tell him and manage the smallest smile known to mankind, before you turn and leave. This time keeping your head down so you wouldn’t be seen or stopped again.
You take a taxi to the airport, your crying started once you were in the back of the car, feeling as your body went through the heartbreak, your world felt like it was collapsing around you. The weather seats of the car felt cold against your trembling body, and each bump in the road sent jolts of pain shooting through your already shattered heart.
The city passed by in a blur outside the window, the lights and sounds of the streets blending together into an indistinct haze. But inside the taxi, you were enveloped in a suffocating silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle as tears streamed down your cheeks.
Your emotional pain had morphed into something physical, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. Every breath felt like a struggle, as if the air itself had turned thick and heavy with your sorrow.
The ache in your chest radiated outwards, spreading through your body like wildfire. It felt as though your heart had been torn from your chest, leaving behind a raw, gaping wound that throbbed with every beat.
You hugged your arms tightly around yourself, as if trying to hold the pieces of your shattered heart together. But no amount of physical embrace could ease the agony that consumed you from within.
Unbeknownst to you, your body harbored another source of pain. A life growing within you, fragile and unsuspected until now.
The physical toll of your distress began to manifest, a dull ache in your abdomen gradually intensifying into sharp, stabbing pains. Clutching your stomach, you doubled over, gasping for breath as waves of agony washed over you.
The taxi driver who was aware of your tears noticed the change in you, he noticed your distress, concern etched on his face as he glanced back at you through the rearview mirror.
"Ma'am, are you okay? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?"
Your head spun with a whirlwind of emotions, confusion mingling with the searing pain radiating from your abdomen.
“P-Please… the hospital.” You manage to say through the haze and agony, your voice barely a whisper.
With a sense of urgency, the taxi driver changed course, steering the vehicle towards the nearest hospital. You clung to consciousness by a thread, your breaths shallow and ragged, each movement sending fresh waves of pain coursing through your body.
As the taxi screeched to a halt in front of the hospital's emergency entrance, you were helped out of the car by the concerned driver. Every step you took felt like an eternity, the pain in your abdomen intensifying with each passing moment.
Inside the hospital, you were rushed to the emergency room, where doctors and nurses worked quickly to assess your condition.
The fluorescent lights casting a harsh glare over the stark white walls. Nurses bustled around you, hooking you up to monitors and taking your vital signs, their movements a blur in your pain-addled mind.
You lay on the hospital bed, your body wracked with waves of agony that seemed to consume your whole being. You clutched your abdomen, the source of your torment, with trembling hands, each heartbeat sending fresh spikes of pain coursing through you.
A doctor entered the room, his expression grave as he approached your bedside. His voice was calm but tinged with concern as he addressed you.
"Miss, I'm Dr. Patel. We've run some tests, and I'm afraid I have some news for you."
Your heart hammered in your chest as you looked up at the doctor, your eyes filled with fear and apprehension.
"What is it, doctor? What's wrong with me?" You whispered, your voice barely audible over the sounds of the hospital.
Dr. Patel hesitated for a moment, his gaze sympathetic as he delivered the news that would shatter your world once more, you thought that what happened earlier is the worst thing that could ever happen to you. And you’re about to be proven wrong. You haven’t reached reached your lowest point yet.
"I'm sorry to tell you this, Miss, but it appears that you were pregnant. Unfortunately, it seems you are experiencing a miscarriage."
Your world spun out of control at the doctor’s words, your mind reeling with shock and disbelief. Pregnant? Miscarraige? You couldn't wrap your head around the enormity of what the doctor was telling you.
“I-I I was pregnant?” You whispered, your voice choking with emotion. Dr. Patel nodded solemnly.
"Yes, it seems that way. I'm truly sorry for your loss."
Tears streamed sown your face as the weight of the doctor’s words settled over you like a suffocating blanket. You had been carrying a life with you, unaware until now, unaware until it was all too late, until it was taken from you.
Alone in the hospital room, with only the sterile walls for company, you grieved for the child you had never known, your heart breaking with a pain that transcended words. And as you lay there, lost in her anguish, you knew that your life would never be the same again.
Seb's heart pounded with a mixture of anger and concern as he stormed down the hotel corridor towards Lewis's room. The state he saw in you fuelled his determination to confront his friend.
Reaching the door, Seb banged on it with force, the sound reverberating through the hallway. He heard shuffling inside before the door swung open to reveal a dishevelled Lewis and a startled Carla.
"What the hell is going on here?" Seb's voice thundered, his anger barely contained.
Carla stumbled over her words, attempting to offer an explanation, but Seb silenced her with a stern glare. His attention shifted to Lewis, disappointment etched deeply into his features.
"Lewis, how could you?" Seb's voice cracked with emotion, his disbelief palpable. "With Carla, of all people?"
Lewis blinked, his expression a mixture of confusion and alarm. "Seb, I- I don't understand. What are you talking about?"
“Don’t play dumb, Lewis, I just saw y/n.” Seb's frustration surged as he realised Lewis's confusion. “She was in tears over you.”
Carla, sensing the escalating tension, made a hasty exit, leaving Seb alone with Lewis. The weight of disappointment hung heavy in the air as Seb struggled to comprehend what had happened.
"Lewis, something's not right here," Seb said, his voice softening slightly as he studied his friend's bewildered expression. "You seem... out of it."
Lewis shook his head, his memory foggy and fragmented. "I don't know what's happening, Seb. Everything's a blur."
Seb's concern deepened as he realised the severity of the situation. With a sense of urgency, he dialled the only number he had of Lewis’s team, relaying the state he’s in. Even though he’s more coherent now from when you were here, he was still out of it. Stumbling a little, his pupils blown wide, his words sluggish and he’s stuttering.
Minutes later, a medical team arrived at the hotel room, their professional demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos within. They quickly assessed Lewis's condition, taking blood samples and running tests while Seb watched on, his worry mounting with each passing moment. They have to make sure he’s okay to race the next day.
As Lewis began to regain consciousness, the pieces of the puzzle slowly started to fall into place. Seb breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that his friend was going to be okay.
"What... what happened?" Lewis mumbled, his gaze darting around the room in confusion.
Seb sighed, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on his shoulders. "We'll figure it out, Lewis. But for now, let's focus on getting you the help you need."
Sebastian had a theory but until it’s confirmed he’ll just keep it to himself.
Lewis trudged up the familiar path to your shared home, his heart heavy with a sense of dread. The events of the past few days had left him reeling, his mind still struggling to make sense of the chaos that had engulfed his life.
As he reached the front door, he hesitated for a moment, steeling himself for what lay beyond. With a shaky hand, he inserted the key and turned the lock, the door swinging open with a creak that echoed through the empty hallway.
The emptiness of the house hit Lewis like a physical blow, the silence oppressive and suffocating. He stepped inside, the weight of his solitude bearing down on him with each echoing footstep.
The living room was barren, devoid of the warmth and familiarity that once filled the space. Lewis's gaze swept over the room, searching for any trace of the life he had known, but found only echoes of the past.
His heart sank as he realised that your belongings were gone, your absence a gaping void in your once shared home. The realisation hit him like a punch to the gut, the ache of loss settling deep in his chest.
With trembling hands, Lewis reached for his phone, his fingers fumbling as he scrolled through his contacts. But when he tried to call you, he was met with nothing but silence, just like it has been since that day, the realisation crashing down on him like a tidal wave.
You had blocked him on everything.
The weight of your absence pressed down on Lewis with crushing force, his breaths coming in shallow gasps as he struggled to hold back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He felt lost, adrift in a sea of loneliness and regret.
How had it all gone so wrong? How had he allowed himself to stray so far from the love that had once anchored him?
With a heavy heart, Lewis sank onto the couch, his head in his hands as he surrendered to the overwhelming tide of despair. In the silence of their empty home, he grappled with the harsh reality of his mistakes, the mistakes he has no memory of, mistakes that he’d never do, longing for a chance to make things right, even as he feared it might already be too late.
Lewis sat alone in your once vibrant home, the air heavy with an oppressive silence that mirrored the emptiness in his heart. He had spent days in a haze of despair. His attempts to reach out to you were met with a resounding silence, leaving him to grapple with his own sense of remorse and longing.
As he sat listlessly on the couch, the shrill ring of his phone shattered the quietude of the room. With a heavy sigh, Lewis reached for the device, his fingers trembling as he answered the call.
"Hello?" His voice was hoarse with exhaustion, his eyes fixed on a distant point in the room.
The voice on the other end was unfamiliar, belonging to a friend of yours, someone Lewis hadn't spoken to in months. The words that followed pierced through the heavy fog of his mind, jolting him into stark awareness.
"Lewis." the voice began, its tone laced with sorrow. “I hate to be the one telling you this, and y/n would hate me for telling you.”
“What’s wrong?” Lewis is instantly filled with a sense of dread and fear as his mind realed trying to come up with reasons why your friend was calling him.
"I'm so sorry to have to tell you this on the phone, but y/n, she was pregnant.”
Lewis’s mind only heard and registered pregnant at first. “Pregnant?” And then he realsied the tense your friend was using. “Was? What do you mean was?”
Silence.
“She lost the baby."
Lewis felt as though the ground had fallen out from beneath him, his heart plummeting into despair. The weight of the revelation crushed him, leaving him gasping for breath as he struggled to comprehend the enormity of the loss.
A baby. Their baby. The child you had never known, taken from you before you even had a chance to hold it in your arms. The realisation sent shockwaves of grief coursing through Lewis's veins, his mind reeling with a cacophony of emotions.
"Why... why didn't she tell me?" Lewis's voice wavered with anguish, his heart splintering into a million fractured pieces. "How could she go through something like this alone?"
The friend on the other end of the line offered what comfort they could, their own voice trembling with empathy. “After everything that happened, she’s entitled to being alone Lewis, I just thought it’s best you know.”
In that moment of searing clarity, Lewis knew what he had to do.
He needed to see you. He needed to hold you in his arms and share in your grief, to let you know that you weren’t alone in your pain. He needed to face the consequences of his actions, whatever they may be.
With a heavy heart and a newfound sense of purpose, Lewis rose from his seat and made his way to the bedroom, his phone out already as he called for his jet to be ready in Nice. He’s going to find you, no matter what it took.
Lewis stood on your doorstep, his heart heavy with a mixture of apprehension and determination. He raised his hand to knock, but before his knuckles could make contact with the wood, the door swung open, revealing his tired and worn-down ex-girlfriend.
Your eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Lewis standing before you. The lines of exhaustion etched deep into your features softened briefly before hardening into a mask of cold indifference.
"Lewis." You said, your voice devoid of its usual warmth. "What are you doing here?"
Lewis swallowed hard, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him as he met your gaze. "Love, we need to talk."
A flicker of anger flashed in your eyes, but you remained silent, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as if to shield yourself from his presence. This leaves him doubting this more than ever.
"I know I messed up, but I need to make things right." Lewis said, his voice trembling with emotion. Your expression remained impassive, but Lewis could see the pain lurking beneath the surface, a reflection of his own turmoil.
"I'm tired of talking, Lewis." You finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. "You don't get to waltz back into my life after everything you’ve done."
Lewis felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest at your words, the weight of his actions bearing down on him with crushing force. He had hoped for a chance to make amends, but your cold indifference left him doubting whether reconciliation was even possible, and rightfully so.
"I'm not asking for forgiveness." He replied, his voice tinged with desperation. "I just want to understand. About... about what happened."
Your eyes flashed with a mixture of grief and anger at the mention of the past, the pain etched plainly across your face. Lewis felt his heart ache at the sight of your suffering, knowing that he was the cause of it.
"Don't you dare talk to me about what happened." You spat, your voice trembling with emotion. "You don't get to pretend like you care after what you did."
Lewis recoiled as if struck, the force of your words driving the breath from his lungs. He felt a lump form in his throat, the weight of his mistakes threatening to suffocate him.
"I made a mistake, love, and I remember nothing, I was so out of it." He whispered, his voice thick with remorse. "But I never wanted to hurt you. I love you, and I'm sorry."
For a moment, the anger in your eyes softened, replaced by a flicker of vulnerability. But it was fleeting, overshadowed once again by a steely resolve.
"I can't do this, Lewis," you said, your voice barely a whisper.
Lewis's voice wavered with uncertainty as he broached the topic that weighed heavily on his mind. "Did you... Did you know about the child before it happened?"
Your eyes flickered with a mixture of pain and disbelief at his question, the raw emotions swirling beneath the surface like a tempest.
"Does it even matter now?" You retorted, your voice tinged with bitterness. "Knowing or not wouldn't change what happened."
Lewis's heart sank at your response, the weight of his own ignorance pressing down on him with suffocating force. He had hoped for some shred of understanding.
"I just... I want to be there for you." He pleaded, his voice trembling with emotion. "I want to help you through this, if you'll let me."
Your expression softened for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through the facade of cold indifference. But it was fleeting, replaced once again by a steely resolve.
"I can't do this, Lewis." You said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Not with you."
With a heavy heart, Lewis watched as you closed the door in his face, shutting him out from your life once again. He stood there for a moment, the weight of your rejection crushing him under its unbearable burden.
As he turned and walked away, the echoes of your shattered love lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of what could have been.
Lewis returned to your doorstep every day since, with you refusing to open the door and speak to him. His nights are long and sleepless, as he tries to deal with the turmoil inside of him, he lost you and he lost his child all in one day. It all happened when he was drunk, when he was so out of it he can’t even remember it right now. He knew that he had to try, to lay bare his soul and beg for the forgiveness he so desperately wanted. Needed.
And so once more and with a deep breath, he raised his hand to knock, his knuckles rapping softly against the wood. Finally, after six days of trying the door opened, Lewis was met with your tired gaze, your eyes betraying a mixture of weariness and guarded apprehension. He felt his resolve waver for a moment, the weight of your silent scrutiny pressing down on him like a leaden weight.
"y/n." He began, his voice trembling with emotion. "Please, I need to talk to you."
You regarded him with a wary expression, but remained silent, and so he continued. "I know I've made mistakes, love, believe me I do." Lewis confessed, his voice raw with emotion. "I've hurt you in ways I never intended, and I can't even begin to express how sorry I am for that."
Your eyes softened slightly at his words, a flicker of vulnerability shining through the mask of indifference. But before you could respond, Lewis pressed on, his desperation driving him forward.
"I can't change the past." He admitted, his voice thick with regret. "But I can promise you this, I'll do whatever it takes to make things right. I'll be there for you, through every moment of pain and loss. Please, just give me a chance to prove myself to you."
Tears welled in your eyes at his heartfelt plea, his words striking a chord deep within your wounded heart. Part of you yearned to forgive him, to let him back into your life and embrace the hope of a second chance. But the scars he had left behind were still tender, the pain still fresh and raw.
"I don't know if I can." You whispered.
Lewis felt a pang of despair grip his heart at your words, the fear of losing you forever threatening to overwhelm him. But he refused to give up, his love for you driving him to keep fighting. He’s never given up when it came to racing, and he’s certainly not going to give up now.
"I understand," he said, his voice filled with determination. "But please, just think about it. I'll be waiting for you, for as long as it takes."
With one final pleading look, Lewis turned and walked away.
After weeks of silence and contemplation, you finally made the decision to unblock Lewis and reach out to him. You’ve seen the races, you’ve seen the interviews, Lewis is a man broken, under his eyes have grown darker, he no longer smiles or jokes around. For the first time in his career, racing has become just a job for him.
And so, with a heavy heart and a sense of trepidation, you sent him a text, informing him of your upcoming visit to Monaco and your intention to meet and talk things through. You had some business there you had to take care of, and that was the final push, that maybe you should sit down and talk everything through, not to get back together but maybe to just start moving on, maybe and just maybe become friends and nothing more. You lived with the motion that once a cheater, always a cheater.
You ring the bell to your-Lewis’s house and wait for him to open the door, even though your keychain holds the key that will let you in. This place you once called home. Memories flood your mind as you stand at the front door, a mixture of nostalgia and pain gripping your heart. You take a deep breath and knock. Moments later, the door opens to reveal Lewis, looking worn out and deeply regretful. His eyes soften at the sight of you and there’s hope in them. You’re about to crush that hope and despite everything you hate that you will, and you hate yourself even more for still caring about him even for a bit.
“Come in.” He says quietly, stepping aside to let you pass.
You walk inside, the familiar scent of his cologne mingling with the faint aroma of the diffuser you always had dotted around the house. The house is tidy, but there’s an unmistakable air of emptiness, it's void of all your little things that you took with you when you left. You sit down on the couch, feeling a strange mix of comfort and tension.
Lewis sits across from you, his hands clasped together, knuckles white. The silence between you is heavy, each second feeling like an eternity.
“You wanted to talk.” You begin, your voice trembling slightly.
He nods, swallowing hard. “I’m so sorry for everything. I... I didn’t know how to reach you, how to make things right.”
“I don't know if you ever could.” Tears well up in your eyes as you look at him. “Seeing you with her... it broke me, Lewis. I trusted both of you. And then... losing the baby...” Your voice breaks, and you cover your mouth, trying to stifle a sob. Lewis’s eyes fill with tears as he reaches out but stops himself, unsure if his touch would be welcome.
“I didn’t know,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “I swear I didn’t know what was happening. I don't even remember drinking, but my mind went blank, I would never...”
You nod, struggling to hold back the flood of emotions. “I believe you. But it doesn’t make the pain any less real.”
“I never wanted to hurt you.” He leans forward, his eyes pleading. “I can’t imagine the pain you’ve been through.”
“You don’t have to imagine.” You reply, your voice tinged with bitterness. “It’s real, and it’s here. Every single day.”
Lewis looks down, shame and regret etched into his features. “If I could take it all back, I would. I’d do anything to make this right.”
“I know. And I’m trying to understand, to forgive, the 5 years we spent together aren't so easy to flush down the drain.” You sigh, feeling the weight of his words. “But it’s so hard, Lewis. Losing our baby... it feels like the universe is p-punishing me.”
“It’s not your fault.” He says softly, his eyes filling with tears. “None of this is your fault. I was careless, I let my guard down. I should have protected you, protected us.” Lewis wipes away a tear, his voice trembling, seeing the man you loved for so long cry, made your own eyes fill with tears. He betrayed you but you still both lost your child before you even knew they existed. “I miss you. I miss us. I want to be there for you, to help you heal. If you’ll let me, just af friends .”
Instinctively, you both move closer, seeking solace in each other’s presence. Lewis reaches out and gently takes your hand, his touch tentative yet filled with a desperate need to comfort you.
“I don’t know if I can ever forget what happened.” You admit, your voice barely a whisper.
“You don’t have to.” He replies, his grip on your hand tightening. “But we can try to move forward, we can try to start coping. Together.”
You look into his eyes, seeing the depth of his sorrow and love. In that moment, you realise that despite everything, the bond between you is still there, it has weakened but it's still there.
“Do you really think we can get through this?” You ask, a hint of hope in your voice.
“I do.” Lewis says earnestly. “It won’t be easy, but I believe in us. I believe in you.”
Tears stream down your face as you lean into each other, your foreheads touching. The hug is a mix of comfort, sorrow, and the lingering love you still feel. You hold each other tightly, finding a fragile sense of solace in your shared grief and determination to heal. The journey ahead is uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, you feel a glimmer of hope.
Someone knocks on the front door, you break apart and Lewis goes to answer the door while you wipe your tears away.
”What are you doing here?” You hear Lewis say, and just as you stood up to go see who it is, Carla comes into the living room. You weren’t expecting her at all, unlike Lewis Carla hasn’t tried to reach out to you in any way. She has even spread some false information about you in your friend group. Carla storms in, her face twisted with anger and jealousy.
“What the hell is this?” she shouts, her eyes wild. “How can you forgive him after everything?”
“Carla, what are you doing here?”
”Me? What are you doing here? You’re just going to forgive him?” She ignores your question, her anger escalating.
“What happens between us is none of your business.” You tell her getting angry yourself, you weren’t about to give her the satisfaction of knowing that you haven’t forgiven Lewis and you were merely trying to deal with the grief of losing your child.
“After everything I’ve done to break you two up, I could go to jail!” Her words hang in the air, a shocking revelation that leaves you both speechless. Realising what she’s just admitted, Carla’s face pales, and she tries to backtrack. “I didn’t mean that,” she stammers, but it’s too late. The truth is out.
“What did you just say?” Lewis asks, his eyes narrowing.
Carla’s eyes dart around the room, desperate for an escape. “You heard me wrong. I was just angry. I didn’t mean it.”
“Did you plan everything? Did you mean to break us up? Is that it?” Your anger is boiling over.
“He was supposed to be mine! You were always in the way! You don’t deserve him!” Carla’s face contorted with rage.
Lewis steps between you and Carla, his voice steady but filled with fury. “Get out of my house, Carla. Now.”
“You’re just going to throw me out? After everything I did for you?” Carla’s eyes flash with defiance.
“Everything you did for me?” Lewis scoffs. “You tried to destroy my life, my relationship. You’re the reason we lost our baby!”
“I... I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” Carla takes a step back, realising the gravity of her actions. She may have wanted to break you up, but she didn’t know about your baby’s, and she didn’t want you to lose them anyways.
“You need to leave,” you say, your voice shaking with emotion. “You’ve done enough damage.”
Carla glares at you one last time before turning and storming out, slamming the door behind her. The house is silent for a moment, as you try to process everything that just happened.
”What did she mean after everything I’ve done and the jail thing?” You ask Lewis hoping he had any clue on what Carla was talking about.
”I-I’m not sure.”
”Did anything happen before or after…that night?” You ask him, hugging yourself, Lewis once more stops himself from pulling you closer into his arms.
”I don’t know, I was sick the whole night, almost didn’t race the next day.” Lewis remembers the weird sickness he had, it came out of nowhere. “Wait, Sebastian was there.”
”Seb? He actually went to your room?” You asked, knowing Seb of course he did what you said.
”Yeah, I’ll give him a call.” Lewis grabs his phone and calls Seb, recounting Carla’s outburst. Seb who was already suspicious, reinforces the need to follow up on the blood tests.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this.” Seb assures. “Hang tight, and I’ll push the lab to rush the results.”
Apparently since Lewis was alright the day after, they haven’t paid his lap results any mind, but once Seb called them they rushed in sending the results.
“Lewis, I-I have the results,” Seb says, his voice grave. You already have a feeling about what he will say.
“What did they find?” he asks, his heart pounding.
“There were traces of a sedative in your blood. It’s a strong one, often used in cases of severe anxiety or insomnia, but in high doses, it can knock someone out cold,” Seb explains.
A wave of relief and anger washes over you simultaneously. “So, it’s true,” you say, your voice trembling. “Carla really did drug you.”
”I’m afraid so.” Seb said and there was a moment of silence. “I’ll let you guys absorb this, and I’ll call you later.”
”Alright, thank you Seb.”
The confirmation that Lewis was drugged shifts the dynamics entirely. You and Lewis sit in silence, absorbing the magnitude of what has just happened.
Lewis leans back, closing his eyes as he processes the information. “I can’t believe she would do something like this. I trusted her. We both did.”
“She manipulated the situation. But now we know the truth.” You reach out, taking his hand.
“I feel so violated, so helpless. I hate that she did this to us, to you.” He squeezes your hand, tears welling up in his eyes. He wasn’t just drugged and taken advantage of, his relationship was ruined and he lost his child in the process.
“I hate it too.” you admit, your voice cracking. “But at least we have proof now. We can start to heal.”
Lewis pulls you into a tight embrace, his body shaking with emotion. “I’m so sorry for everything. I should have seen the signs. I should have protected you.”
“We couldn’t have known. She was our friend, or at least we thought she was. But we’re still here, and we can get through this together.” You hold him close, your own tears mingling with his.
The emotional weight of the past weeks begins to lift as you find solace in each other’s arms. There’s a renewed sense of unity and strength, knowing that the truth is out and that you can begin to move forward. Knowing that Lewis didn’t cheat left you with a sense of relief, you’re not alone.
“We need to press charges.” You say once you both have calmed down. “She can’t get away with this.”
“You’re right. She can’t get away with this.” Lewis nods, his face set with determination. And he does call his lawyers and told them what happened, they have told him what to do next. A call to the police was made and that set everything in motion, Carla wasn’t getting away with it.
It's been a few weeks since the confrontation with Carla and the revelation that Lewis was drugged. The legal process against her is ongoing, and while justice is on the horizon, the emotional scars remain. You and Lewis have reconciled, but the path to healing is long and filled with pain. The loss of your child is something that still haunt you and will continue to do for a very long time.
You wake up in Lewis's arms, the morning light filtering through the curtains. It's a Saturday, and for the first time in a while, there's no pressing urgency—no lawyers to meet, no police interviews to give, no races to go to, no meetings and no work. Just the two of you, trying to find some semblance of normalcy.
Lewis stirs and looks at you, his eyes soft but weary. "Good morning," he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
"Morning," you reply, managing a small smile. The simple act of waking up together feels both comforting and bittersweet.
The day unfolds slowly. You make breakfast together, an unspoken effort to reclaim a sense of routine. The kitchen fills with the aroma of coffee and pancakes, a small comfort amid the lingering sadness.
As you sit down to eat, an awkward silence settles between you. Finally, Lewis breaks it. "How are you feeling today?"
You take a deep breath, contemplating your words. "Some days are better than others. Today... I'm not sure yet."
"I miss the baby too. We may have not known them but I miss them so much." He nods, understanding, he says softly, his voice tinged with unexplainable pain. "Every day."
Tears well up in your eyes, and you reach across the table to take his hand. "I know. It's hard to move on, to find a way forward."
"We don't have to rush," Lewis reassures you. "We can take it one day at a time."
After that you found yourselves, both seeking solace in small, intimate moments. Taking long walks in the park, sitting quietly on the couch reading, holding each other during sleepless nights. These moments become the fragile threads that begin to weave your relationship back together. One evening, as you sit together watching the sunset, Lewis turns to you, his expression serious.
"I've been thinking... maybe we should see a therapist. Together. To help us process everything."
"I think that's a good idea. We need to talk about the baby, and about us, and just everything we’ve been through." You consider his suggestion.
And so you start attending therapy sessions together. The first few sessions are difficult, filled with raw emotion and unspoken fears. But slowly, you begin to open up, sharing your deepest pain and hopes for the future.
"Grieving the loss of a child is incredibly personal and complex." The therapist explains. "It's important to allow yourselves to feel the pain, but also to support each other through it."
It took time, and you’re still not back to how it was before. Perhaps you never will, but you’re learning to communicate more openly, to lean on each other in moments of weakness. The road is still long, but each step forward feels like a small victory.
One night, as you lie in bed, Lewis holds you close. "We'll get through this," he murmurs. "I believe in us."
You nod, feeling a glimmer of hope. "I believe in us too. We just have to keep moving forward, one step at a time."
Months pass, and while the pain of losing your child never fully fades, you begin to find new ways to honour their memory. You plant a small garden in the backyard of your home in the UK, a place of peace and reflection.
Your relationship with Lewis continues to strengthen, built on a foundation of shared grief and newfound resilience. There are still difficult days, but you face them together, hand in hand.
You find yourselves always there, whenever you’re in the UK and one sunny afternoon, as you sit in the garden, Lewis takes your hand and looks into your eyes. "I know we'll never forget our baby, but I want us to keep dreaming, to keep hoping. Maybe one day... we can try again."
Tears fill your eyes, but this time they're a mix of sadness and hope. "I want that too," you say, squeezing his hand. "I want us to keep moving forward, to find happiness again."
As you sit together, surrounded by the blossoming flowers, you realise that while the road to healing is long, you're not walking it alone. Together, you're finding a way forward, one step at a time, building a new future from the ashes of the past.
A.N: i don't write cheating, but I felt i can write the request and add ny spin on it
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#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 scenario#f1 x reader#f1 fic#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1#formula one imagine#formula one#lewis x reader#lewis imagine#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton one shot#lewis hamilton imagine#lh44 x reader#team lh44#lh44#lh44 imagine#angst
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cheol telling you that you should trade - he holds out his credit card to keep in your wallet in exchange for a polaroid of you to keep in his. he didn't expect the photo to be so spicy, but you can both be generous 💋🤑
you were hesitant but seungcheol insisted. he wanted you to have it just in case you ever needed it. for emergencies! (for treating yourself too but he knew he’d have to work on getting you to do that one).
you obliged, finally, but only after promising to give him something in return.
“what is it?” he asks, trying to peek behind your fingers at your wallet.
“close your eyes!”
“what? baby-”
“close ‘em! and hold out your hand.”
“just one?”
he can hear the mischievous smile in your voice when you giddily say, “yeah, just the one.”
he sighs but does as he’s asked. he owes you this much, after all. and he loves you or whatever.
his face scrunches up in confusion when he feels you place something plasticky in his palm. it feels thin enough to be paper but the texture is wrong. is it… what he thinks it is?
“open!”
it’s a polaroid lying face down in his hand. he had guessed right. this was way better than a credit card and a million times more valuable. he’d always wanted to keep a picture of you in his wallet like everyone used to do. he thought the idea was romantic.
“turn it over!”
he does, eyes almost popping out of his skull when he sees that it’s a mostly naked picture of you. he rushes to cover it before remembering you’re at home, alone, and settling on placing it gingerly on the counter in front of him.
“do you like it?” you ask. you sound nervous but seungcheol has no idea why.
“you’re joking, right?”
“well, you haven’t said anything.”
“all the blood in my head went straight to my dick. there are no thoughts up there, babe.” you snort. “i’m serious. this is so hot, you’re so hot. come here…”
he turns away from the picture to kiss you, using both hands to cup your face so that he can be the one in control. you melt into him easily, letting him lead until you have to pull away to breathe.
“i don’t know how i’m going to keep that in my wallet,” he admits breathlessly.
“just put it behind your license where no one will see it.”
“that’s not what i’m worried about.”
“then what?”
“i’m worried that i’ll get hard every time i pull it out to pay for something, just knowing it’s in there.”
“would that be the end of the world?”
“well, i don’t want people to think i’m getting it up over dry cleaning or lottery tickets or something.”
“if you’re so worried about it, i can always take it back…” you trail off as you reach for the picture but seungcheol snatches it off the counter before you can get a finger on it.
“nope, no take-backs. it’s mine.”
“but you said-”
he clears his throat unsubtly. “i’ll learn to manage.”
you put a hand over your heart in faux-surprise. “you’re so brave.”
#answered#anon#seventeen smut#svt smut#scoups smut#s.coups smut#seungcheol smut#choi seungcheol smut#choi s.coups smut#choi scoups smut
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