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tarjapearce · 9 months

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Tentateur

Miguel O'Hara x Cheated on!fem Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. SMUT at the end, bit of angst, fluff, adult situations. Cheating, divorce.

Requested here

Summary: Miguel can't stand watching you being neglected by your husband.

------

If there was something Miguel hated, was life being too generous upon those that didn't deserve it, not even the slightest. Meaning, a dickhead for a coworker and sadly, your husband.

How could such a guy like him ended up with a sweetheart like you was beyond him, The man was apathetic, little to no charm, rude and an absolute bastard.

"She's uh, my wife." He had said flatly. Your name felt like sandpaper on his tongue as it rolled out of it while introducing you to the rest at a small party at Alchemax.

Miguel had noticed the little stab of hurt crossing your angelic face. He wanted to punch him straight in the face, even some of the other couples had noticed the small tension. But you just stood there, trying to give your best smile. The golden band around your finger and the loving stare your eyes casted on your husband was a clear 'Don't even try it' for him.

But for once, Miguel didn't care.

----

He didn't exactly know how the crush on you had started. At first he thought that was just him feeling lonely and that his eyes wandered too much. But when you visited, lunch bag in hand, looking for your husband only to give him a bedazzling smile upon seeing him, and he receiving you with a tight-lipped smile, made his heart to break a little more.

"Hey" You were about to kiss him but he just backed away.

"I'm working."

"Alright, alright. See you later?"

He just gave a quick nod and put the lunchbox on his desk. There wasn't love in his goodbye kiss, Miguel noted. Once you were out, he rummaged through its contents while rolling his eyes.

He looked around and spotted Miguel with a mug on his hand.

"Hey, pal." He called and offered him.

"Want some?" Miguel seized him from head to toes but just nodded. It felt the only way that he could have a bit of you at the moment.

"Take whatever you like. Wife always goes overboard with food." Miguel took the small dessert container. It tasted divine. It only matched your own sweetness.

Lucky Bastard.

Oh he was. His eyebrows pressed together as he kept giving away all the food you had so dotingly prepared him.

----

"Can we talk about this later? You can't just keep visiting me every time you feel so"

"But you keep forgetting lunch at home, can't leave you like-"

"It's fine really, we have vending machines here." Your husband grumbled, but you couldn't help but hold the lunchbox tightly against your arms.

"I see. Sorry." You gave him a small smile, "See you later?"

"Im busy today. Might get a couple hours late. Don't wait for me."

You just nodded as Miguel jaw tensed.

How dared he?

You left.

-----

You had bumped into him at the supermarket on a weekend. Your cart was full of food, food that would end up in his hands and the rest of the team but never in your husband's mouth.

"Miguel, right?"

He nodded as he pulled some items for himself in his basket.

"Thanks for helping me." you smiled, his heart thumped harder.

"Where is..." He cleared his throat and you looked up at him.

"My husband? Oh, he said he had an extra shift today. Working in Alchemax surely is hard, I mean, I try to make it less... bad for him."

Miguel's mind was sneering, not at you but at the fake pretense of a hard working man the son of a bitch had put up with you. He knew the truth, he knew your husband only went there, did things wrong and half assed, and lately he had been flirting shamelessly with a lab technician from the upper floor.

His hatred for the man only grew, just as his admiration for you. What truly made you marry someone like him? That's the biggest question he had so far.

"I'm kind of nervous, today's our anniversary. I wanna surprise him with something" Your cheeks tinted red.

God you were killing him. He wanted to grab you gently by your shoulders, and say 'I can be better' cause of course he could, he was. You'd never have to settle for less with him.

'I appreciate you' cause he did, unlike the fool you had married. 'You'd never have to beg me' because in truth, he was already at your feet.

But you weren't his. Not yet.

-----

Sighing, Miguel put the lab test equipment away, then headed for the main office to get a couple more samples of a liquid he tried, but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight.

Legs wrapped around a man's waist, as his pants were down at his ankles. The woman shrieked once she noticed Miguel standing there with a frown and disgusted face. Miguel’s anger froze when the man next to her turned to be none but your husband.

The man recoiled to himself upon Miguel glaring holes his way.

----

His shoulder was poked by none other that the cheating pig.

"Uh, hey. Can we.... Can you, I mean-"

He stumbled on his words, Miguel towered over him, his eyes belittling him. He was bold.

"You saw nothing, yeah?"

And oh so phony. Disgusting.

Miguel just went back to his work.

It was the last straw.

-------

To his surprise you were sitting on a café, puffy and tear crusted eyes staring into nothingness, a phone on your hands. You knew.

He didn't know whether to approach you, or just leave you be. As much as he wanted you, he knew that coming at you in your most vulnerable state would not only make a bad impression oh him, but he didn't want to act like a vulture, looming over your broken heart for him to take.

He approached carefully.

"Hey"

"Miguel..."

"Are you okay?"

Your eyes avoided him.

"May I sit?"

You nodded with a hiccup and he offered you his handkerchief, fresh hot tears spilled in the soft fabric. His chest constricting at the sight.

"He cheated on me."

Much to your dismay, he knew. Of course, he wanted to tell you, but knowing how careless your husband acted, it was a matter of time for you to discover the cheating.

"I'm really sorry to hear that."

Shaking your head, you sniffed

"He has been doing this for months. Should've... saw this coming. I mean... I found so many pictures of a woman and... God"

He was pretty sure that he would punch the man next time he'd see him.

"He never came home to our anniversary, but even way before that. He just... I wasn't enough."

He frowned and took your hand softly.

"Stop. Cheating is a personal choice, guapa. You can't blame yourself for other's choices. He decided to do so, to trash away his marriage. It has nothing to do with you."

"Maybe if... I was-"

"No. You're... you're perfect. Puta madre, you're more than perfect. He's a lucky bastard just to have you. And... If I was him-"

He stopped his words and pursed his lips. You didn't need this. He'd have to be patient. You stared at him gently.

"I'll file for a divorce. He's barely coming home anyways and... that pretty much says on it's own that is over."

Miguel just nodded.

"Might celebrate it." You chuckled after wiping your tears.

"Can I ask you something?"

Again, you nodded.

"I know it's none of my business but, I'm just genuinely curious as to why you'd marry him?"

"Impulsiveness, I guess." you shrugged, your hand resting some inches away from his.

"He just proposed one day out of the blue, we had been dating for six months. Don't... don't look at me like that. I know it was stupid." you groaned.

"It's alright. You thought it was love." His hand inched closer, you nodded.

"We had our problems. A lot, actually. But... instead of speaking things like a fucking adult, he went on cheating."

"Mira, guapa... yo" He trailed off unsure of resisting any longer, his resolution to wait vanishing, "I know that this is a really bad time for you and-"

"Please... don't. Miguel I-"

"Just listen, ok? Please?" His hand finally took yours gently.

"I know this is the least of things you need right now, but... You have no idea how... how perfect you are. I always saw you visiting him, being loving, and he just threw all that away. He lost you. You're way too much for him."

Your body tensed upon sensing where this was going. Of course you weren't ignorant, you'd notice the glances he would give your way, the yearning in his eyes every time you kissed or acted like lovesick fool with your glacial husband.

" Let me show you, how would I treat you, if you were mine."

"Miguel, I don't want to-."

"Let me take you to dinner. If you don't like anything and I mean it, anything, I'll stop and leave you be. Just a dinner. Hell, you could ramble about him for hours and I'd just be happy for you to be there."

You sighed, it was a rather simple choice to say yes or no. There was nothing that actually tied you to your ex husband now. Just a very skewed moral code.

" Just a dinner. "

His heart fluttered and he nodded

"Just a dinner and I'll drop you home."

----

Miguel helped you out of his car, eyes drinking in your form. He would be lying if he said that he didn't feel jealous of the dress you were wearing, snugging all your curves in the right spots, just a tiny thing to make your own beauty to stand out even more. Gorgeous, flawless, divine and perfect.

You gasped at the location

"Are you sure this is the place? It's quite expensive."

Your concern was endearing, he offered you his arm and guided you inside.

"You're worth it, princesa."

The place seemed like being inspired from an old movie, elegant, classic and of course fancy. Never in your life your ex husband would actually treat you to places like these. His card would explode, he said once. Other places were good, but this was in a whole new level of luxury.

Miguel held the chair for you, and you sat, he followed.

"This place is gorgeous." He chuckled and took your hand to kiss your soft knuckles.

"Just like you."

----

Time flew, the night had been to your surprise one of the best things that you have experienced. You had tasted things that didn't know existed, Miguel had fed you the dessert, pampering you to no end. The wine was delicious.

As night advanced, his little touches had turned more and more risqué, his fingers would take a taste of your exposed thigh skin, your hands would brush his, fiery and small caresses that sparked a silent yet mutual fire.

Once home you couldn't get your hands out of eachother. He had to be careful to not rip your dress to bits, he needed you. The wet kisses in your neck and his wandering hands all over your heated body the proof of it. When was the last time that someone touched you like this?

Not even him, the man that oathed to love you and be with you through thick and thin. A gentle rub on your clit by expert fingers made you forget about him. Lock his memory in a vault and you'd throw the key somewhere. Your hips would buck against his hand, rolling on waves after waves of pleasure.

"He didn't touch you?" You shook your head as your mouth gaped open.

"When was-"

"Shut up." you moaned breathlessly. An I don't know nor care.

Your body responded so well too him, be the need you tried to sate with your own hands, or the loneliness that had made you so desperate that had you squirming and soaked and he was only using his hands so far. With Miguel, things felt differently. He did things differently. And different was good. So so good.

His hunger for you shown and conveyed in every caress and touch he gave you. He was gentle enough for his desire to permeate your skin. You didn't feel alone. You felt needed. Loved even. There was no turning back once you discarded all the clothes on both ends.

----

Opposite to what you believed, your heart wasn't flooding with guilt. No.

There were no longer what ifs and what not constantly echoing in your brain. There was no longer that constricting sensation in your chest you always had. No more uncertainty. You were free.

Last night Miguel, whose arms cradled your form to be snuggled in his chest and his thigh hooked on your hip, hoarding you. As if fearful you'd go away, had made you experience a whole new concept of pleasure. Your body soared in bliss, you were glowing, He had given you climax after climax, making every single one of them more shattering and intense than the other.

That's all you wanted really. Feel at ease and blissful. Miguel had given you that and more. More than you actually ever though deserving. It was just a matter of time that you'd finally take him whole.

You wanted him. His kindness, his care, his love, his grumpyness during mornings, the way he cursed in spanish whenever he'd stub his toe in the nightstand. You wanted it all.

Of course you had filed for a divorce as soon as you could, your husband was more than happy to comply. He hadn't been home for a while, Miguel even told you that he had quitted. It was as if the universe was removing him from your life ever since you started with Miguel a couple months ago.

But none of that mattered. Not when he had plopped you down to bed, hands holding a firm grip in your sweaty and smooth skin, hips straddling yours and plowing into you from behind, prone bone position. His hips buried himself deep, hitting that spot over and over. He wasn't gentle, but that's just exactly how you liked it.

Before you could actually reach the stars he flipped you over, your thighs resting ontop of his. He sheathed once more inside. Your phone buzzed.

You growled in annoyance, Miguel sighed. A number you knew all too well. Finally you'd get the news you so needed to hear.

"Y-Yeah?" Miguel smirked as he held your thighs together and pushed in further, his tip kissing your cervix so deliciously you had to bite your lip to suppress a moan. The little baby bump in your abdomen barely noticeable.

"Shit's done. Papers are signed."

There was a bit of rustling and the clinking of glass. By his tone, you knew he was getting drunk, celebrating. Miguel took the phone and put it on speaker.

"Ya know? I'm glad I did. Couldn't stand you, nagging all the time. But I'm a free man now, baby." His gulping, something you secretly hated, could be heard on the other line.

Miguel frowned and spreaded your legs once more.

"You there?" Your ex chuckled, "It's okay if you're crying, won't judge"

So so annoying.

A smirk appeared on your face as Miguel focused the camera on your body. He then turned the video call on. The man's face instantly fell upon watching you bouncing on a cock that surely put his to shame. Spine arching, breast jiggling and mouth spewing the lewdest of moans and needy whimpers he hsd ever heard from you. One tan hand secured you in place, preventing you from squirming too much.

"Sorry, pal." He grunted as he started to ram his hips in abandonment, making your toes curl. Your face and body said it all. The video image shaking at his thrust

"Just like that, bonita?" You choked a sob as he went balls in deep, nodding and begging him for him to not stop.

"She's busy." He hung up the call before the man could say anything and tossed your phone somewhere in the bed.

You felt so good, perfect for him, And now you were all his.

------

tag list: @primroselovessupernatural

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #t writes✨

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helluvapoison · 3 months

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Saw your preening hcs!!! They're so cute, I love the way you write!!!

How about the same characters helping a reader preen their wings? That would be so awesome :3333

Lend A Helping Hand

Lucifer, Adam, Lute, Vaggie and Husk help reader with preening

warnings: possible innacurate bird knowledge, heaven headcanons (also probably innacurate) illusions to sexual behavior but it’s not

[i]

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Lucifer ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Seeing you uncomfortable physically hurts him, he has a knee jerk reaction to clutch his heart

• Lucifer’s preemptive when it comes to you, checking your wings around the same time he feels his wings molt

• Dramatically smacks a hand to his forehead, “I can’t believe I didn’t notice! Shit! Oh, duckie, I’m so sorry.”

• Praises you the whole way through, like you’re undergoing a dangerous surgery while wide awake

• Obscenely gentle when handling your wings

• You’ll receive only the utmost care from him!

• That being said, he gets distracted towards the end. Petting your feathers, admiring their color

• “You’re so prett—pretty feathers! You have pretty feathers! Aha.” Lucifer’s nervous chuckle fades as he focuses once more

• He’s more than thorough, quadruple checking his work and asking if you feel better yet

• (Tell him he did a good— no, a great job)

• “A thousand times better, thank you,”

• “Just a thousand?” Lucifer grins cheekily

• “Alright, alright, a million. And here I was worried you’d get a big head over it.”

˚✧₊⁎ Adam ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• “Sucks, amiright?” His voice lacks any sympathy.

You’re sure if you looked, he’d be wearing that punchable smirk

“Go. Away.”

“Yikes, tense much?”

Normally you had more patience than this. Today you were in no mood, whipping around and shooting him a deadly glare

“Adam!”

• Surrendering his hands, Adam turns and leaves, swearing that would be the end of it until your bitchiness subsided

• It’s not like it bothers him to see your nose scrunch in pain or dragging your hands down your face in irritation

• He blames you for turning him into a liar

• “If you make it weird—!”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll hit me or something. Try being original next time. Now shut up so I can help you. Fuck, you’re just as bad as Lute.”

• Adam is eerily silent. In the mirror you can see his tongue poking out in concentration

• He’s uncharacteristically soft when handling your feathers

• “There,” He dusts his hands together, “Now you can’t say Adam never did nothin’ for you.”

• Fucking flabbergasted when you thank him. Outloud. Oh, you’re never living this down

˚✧₊⁎ Lute ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Treats the matter like an inconvenience, a chore that just has to be done

• “If I don’t help you, we’ll never get back on schedule,” Lute’s tone leaves no room for arguments

• Her hands shoving into your shoulders and forcing you to sit before her

• Despite this, her touch alone is mercy on your wings

• You didn’t know she knew the meaning of the word gentle until now

• Lute is diligent in all she does

• For the briefest, most minuscule of moments she thinks she has a grasp on sin. As innocent as it is, she’s not supposed to be helping you

• She won’t let you ruin her reputation

• She doesn’t dare let her fingertips linger on your feathers (no matter how loudly they sing to her)

• Lute acts as if you’ve burned her when she’s done

• “Thank—“ She’s already storming away, cheeks glowing red. From anger, embarrassment or other, you’ll not find out today, “—you.”

˚✧₊⁎ Vaggie ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Honestly, she wasn’t going to offer at first

• Vaggie would prefer to forget about her time in Heaven altogether and helping you with your wings proves triggering, though not so terrible she can’t

• Not when the need to help outweighs her guilt

• You look so damn pitiful!

• “Here, hold still,” Vaggie sighs softly as she approaches

• She waits for you to go relax and accept the offer hanging in the air before touching your wings

• Vaggie’s touch is sweet and hesitant, almost treating your feathers like you’re made of porcelain

• “You ok?” She asks as she twists her fingers around the hardened shell, breaking the pin feather

• You smile at her over your shoulder, “Yeah. You’re much better at this than me.”

• Vaggie breathes out a light laugh, “I’ve had more practice. It’s… easier with someone else too, I guess.”

• Significantly less nervous when she’s done

•Next time, she’ll definitely offer her assistance sooner

˚✧₊⁎ Husk ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• He startles you, making you jump when you thought you were alone

• Husk, although he’ll deny it to his double death, made it his job to pay attention to people he cares about

• Watching you walk around uncomfortable, teetering the edge of all too familiar pain was hard to ignore

• “I know those things can be a real bitch.” He points with the bottle he’s holding

• “Are you trying to be sympathetic or stating a fact?”

• “I’ve been around the block a few times,” Husk shrugs, “And I might be offering my services if you need ‘em. Not just good for listening.”

• He almost regrets it when you immediately accept. He looks at his claws, tainted by alcohol and who knows what else, then your wings

• Washes his hands before. Which strikes you as odd because you’ve seen him use a dirty rag to clean glasses at the bar

• He might be qualified but surely you have someone more deserving willing to help you? Someome nicer, someone cleaner, someone better than him?

• Husk isn’t complaining! It’s just his inner thoughts making his hands tremble

• “I owe you a drink for this,” You say sweetly

• Husk hums out a laugh, “Nah. It’s my pleasure,”

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ thank you so mochi, friend! i’m glad you liked them, you read my mind too and gave me an excuse to write these hehe

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar headcanon #lucifer morningstar imagine #hazbin hotel adam headcanon #hazbin hotel adam imagine #hazbin hotel adam x reader #lute imagine #lute headcanon #lute x reader #vaggie imagine #vaggie headcanon #vaggie x reader #husker x reader #husk imagine #husk headcanon #husk x reader

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anantaru · 8 months

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i haven’t stopped thinking abt wrio like,,, bodyguard wrio,,, underground fighter wrio,,, hate sex wrio,,, god help me

cw. bodyguard wriothesley, overprotective, possessive & dom, fem! reader

bodyguard wriothesley who likes to leave you staggering on the edge of a spinning insanity when he intentionally addresses you as "sweetheart", "princess" or "my lady" whenever he follows your orders, and it really doesn't matter to him where the both of you would currently be— if, lets assume, a quick shopping spree around fontaine or something more to his own liking, such as having you pushed down on a bed by your hips, parting your legs with his knee as large hands easily slide and secure around your waist.

bodyguard wriothesley who makes your mouth fall open on a hard, broken gasp when he swiftly traps you in place right under his strong frame, spurring you into immediate action by a dirty comment such as, "you're so sensitive, my lady." was in fact, a deep sort of satisfaction that gets you to ease up and forget yourself for a second, or the obvious fact that you're currently fucking your own personal bodyguard and that it might not be the best out of all your ideas, yet it still feels so fucking fine when he does it.

and archons, does he know what to do to keep you spiraling into euphoric bliss.

bodyguard wriothesley who adores whenever you tumble over your little, pathetic mewls when he pushes his fat tip inside of you for the very first time this night, and he notices how you're tightening up a bit when he adds another inch and spits on your cunt to have you all wet and nice, deep drags penetrating your most delicious spots while you're still loose enough that wriothesley can rub over your pulsating walls splendidly, tasting the soft clench of a warm, sore pussy on his throbbing girth.

bodyguard wriothesley who hooks up a smile at you, pearly whites grabbing your attention, admiring just how unbelievably cute you were— his boss, his princess and he could spend his entire day fucking you just the way you wanted it, with his dripping dick shafting through your pussy, manhandling you while plunging his lips against your tits to attach his hungry mouth to your nipples.

and how good you were, ah what a sight, able to swallow his cock, despite its size, working your sopping insides into the vast shape of his length so you're all marked up for him, because do keep in mind for a second— he was the one protecting you, and he would lie to himself if he'd say he couldn't become a little too possessive every now and then, while watching out that no one would bother you, no guy talk to you and wriothesley loved taking care of your needs, in many more ways than an outside person would assume— whilst all the others who even dared to look your precious, enticing way?

they aren't even half as tall as him, half as strong as him or most importantly, half as good in bed as him— the man was confident that no other was able to make you scream and enjoy yourself just the way he did.

and you were aware of that, sometimes cursing yourself as to why you let it go on for so long and be that unprofessional— but then he's here to quickly make you regret nothing at all— with your mind hanging in the clouds, still blank and the loud blows of gluttonous moans and your sexes bumping against each other, that you'd never ever feel more protected by any other individual, only him, your hands swiftly finding flaming solace in his soft locks when you hide yourself in his warm neck, pressing frenzied smooches around his defined shoulder as wriothesley groans out deep, "fuck— princess!", sensing how you're about to lose yourself to a high.

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut

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another-lost-mc · 4 months

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Okay but what if, before MC is taken to the future by nightbringer, they had a big fight with the brothers?

Like, they fought about something and said something along the lines 'go away' ' I don't want to see you', but then, when you don't return they start feeling guilty.

At first they'll think you're angry and don't want to talk with them, but when time passes and you don't return they start to get so worried, looking everywhere for you, regretting that the, possibly, last words they said to you were harsh confrontation.

The angst potential 😭😭 how do you think each of the bros would react?

😈🍬 anon

a/n: well, nightbringer sure is a blessing for angst fans.

the worst goodbye | the demon brothers

2.8k words | gn!reader | sfw | angst

cw: mentions of lesson 16 in belphie's part.

Lucifer goes to his office and pretends that he's not angry. He attempts to distract himself with paperwork, but all he does is read the same paragraph a few times over and over again before he throws the page down with a huff. He taps his pen against his desk while he sifts through the emotions clouding his mind. All he felt earlier was wounded pride—that's why he scolded you with more force than necessary, speaking with his cruel, barbed tongue but regretting it just as quickly. He admires and loathes your feisty temper. You're his stubborn, brave little human that stands up to him when most demons wouldn't dare to try.

He plans his apology like a mantra and goes to your room; he knows if he's sincere, you'll give him a chance to make things right. You don't answer your door when he knocks, and he peeks his head inside to confirm that you're not there. He sends you a message with his D.D.D. and shuffles awkwardly in the hallway while he waits for a reply. He asks in the family group chat, but no one's seen you recently and he ignores the initial tendrils of icy fear that make his chest feel tight. Surely you wouldn't have stormed off in a sulk? But he checks the rest of the house and his brothers realize slowly that something is wrong—you wouldn't just leave. Lucifer searches for you himself, around the House of Lamentation and all around the Devildom, searching for anyone that might've seen you, or any hint of where you've gone. But in the early twilight hours, he pours a glass of Demonus that remains untouched while he stares absently into the fire of his private study. His heart freezes over in your absence. Your warmth thawed his icy demeanor, and the roaring fire crackling nearby can't stop the chills that wrack through him when he tells himself that you're gone and he has no one to blame but himself.

You rarely fight with Mammon these days, but when you do, it spirals out of control. He spits out scathing remarks about how he's sick of you trying to pry your nose into his business because he hates admitting that you're right. You try so desperately not to yell (or cry, or both) when you plead with him to forget about whatever risky scheme he's got planned. It's not worth risking Lucifer's wrath and whatever punishment lies in store when Mammon's plan inevitably fails to his own detriment. He stalks away and ignores the sound of your voice cracking in pain when you call his name one last time—and maybe if he were less incensed, he would stop and turn around and apologize. But today he feels particularly stubborn and he doesn't look back. He fully intends on leaping in his car and driving off into the night to burn off some steam, but he slumps against his bedroom door with his head in his hands and tries to remember why he was so angry with you to begin with. He can't pinpoint the reason and he knows you only have his best intentions at heart.

It feels like hours later when he ends up outside your door, head down and tail tucked firmly between his legs. He shouts through the wood when you don't answer and he swears he didn't mean it, that he'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. You're too patient and kind and loving for your own good, and he tempts fate every time he takes your forgiveness for granted. He opens the door and scratches his head in confusion when he realizes you're not there. He spots one of his brothers at the end of the hall, and his confusion sours into something ashy on his tongue when he asks him where you are. I haven't seen them—we all thought they were with you!

Leviathan plays his game, tapping the buttons on his handheld with more force than necessary, as simmering anger from your fight earlier darkens his mood. He didn't mean to forget about your lunch date, so why did you get so mad? Maybe calling you a worse nag than Lucifer was over the top, but he planned on making it up to you later! He gets lost in his thoughts and plays his game until he realizes it's been a couple hours and his D.D.D. has been surprisingly silent. Sometimes you message him and invite him to talk things out in your room once you've both had time to calm down. He has no idea what it means that you've ignored him all this time and when he tries to message you first, they go unanswered. He shuffles to your room guiltily and hopes you'll be willing to talk face-to-face. It's almost dinner time, and maybe if you're feeling up to it, he can take you out for dinner. He even canceled his raid tonight so he can spend the evening curled with you on the sofa watching movies instead.

He doesn't expect to hear a commotion as he walks down the stairs to the first floor, and his brothers are crowded outside your room in various states of panic. Lucifer sees him and rushes to explain what's going on, but the words turn to radio static in Levi's head. He doesn't even notice that he drops his D.D.D. and it clatters to the ground, cracking the corner of the plastic case you gave him as a present not too long ago. Instead of cuddling with you on the sofa that night, he curls around his body pillow in the tub, his tail twitching noisily against the porcelain while he buries his head and deafens his whimpers in the tear-stained cotton. Come back, come back, please come back—

When the rage subsides, Satan glances wearily around his room and the terrible mess he's made. Some of his favourite books are ripped and torn to shreds across the floor, but the sight hurts less than the memory of your heartbroken face crumpling in pain as you fought back tears. He's done many terrible things in his life he's not proud of, but insinuating you don't care about him might be the lowest blow he could use during a fight. You've only wanted what's best for him, and you try so hard to show the world that he's more than the violent, angry creature that lurks deep inside him.

If only the world could see you the way I do.

Regret quickens his steps and he leaves the broken chaos in his room to find you because he shouldn't have even let you go. Why did it take him so long to apologize? He doesn't deserve it, but if you'll only give him a chance, he swears to himself he'll make it up to you. He hastily wipes away the tears pooling in the corner of his eyes when he notices his brothers lingering outside your room. They're too distraught to notice the sharp bite in his words when he demands to know what's going on and where you are. Nothing they say makes any sense—you wouldn't just leave, right? He’s the first to tear through the house in a panic to find you, ignoring his brothers’ nervous pleas for him to calm down. You're nowhere to be found and eventually he returns to his room in a trance. No one knows how long he stands there, trembling with regret and shame and fury that someone or something dared take you away from him. All his brothers know, judging by the noise echoing through the halls, is that his room is nearly destroyed as he unleashed his heartbreak in a maelstrom of destructive rage.

Asmodeus takes another selfie and posts it on Devilgram. He hopes the notification will pop up on your D.D.D. and you'll see him having the time of his life at The Fall. He wants you to see it—he hopes it fills you with regret for arguing with him earlier. He doesn't fight with you often, but your tongues are both sharp and laced with venom when you do face off against each other. He enjoyed the anxious gleam in your eye when he backed you into a wall and leaned down so you were nearly nose-to-nose, the sweet scent of his lip gloss lingering in the gap between you while he cooed about how pathetic you looked. But that was almost an hour ago, and he can only pretend for so long that he doesn't regret leaving you stunned and hurt in the front hall when he waltzed out the door and slammed it behind him. The pounding music can't drown out the wicked things he said to you, and the crowd can't distract him from your absence that weighs heavily in his heart. There are many demons nearby who'd kill for his attention, but he knows deep down that the only hands he wants roaming over his body are yours.

It's not long after that he pushes his way out of the club and into the cool night air, but he still hasn't heard from you. Surely you've seen his Devilgram posts by now? You're smart enough to recognize his desperate ploys for attention. Your attention. Are you ignoring him on purpose? Maybe he deserves it, but he's anxious to talk to you and sends you a message on his walk home anyway. Message could not be delivered. The red text pops up on his screen, and he frowns and tries again. Message could not be delivered. He quickens his pace as he taps your contact name and calls you instead. Is there something wrong with your D.D.D.? "The number you have dialed is not in service."

He breaks into a run until the House of Lamentation peeks into view ahead. He bursts through the door and ignores Lucifer's angry shouts behind him as he rushes down the hall to your room, but all he sees is one of your favourite club outfits laid out on your bed, as if you were getting ready to come see him after all. Where are you? His brothers hover behind him and he borrows one of their phones so he can try calling you again. He tells himself that it must be a problem with his D.D.D. because no other explanation makes sense. "The number you have dialed is—" Asmo whimpers pitifully while he listens to the robotic voice drone on speaker for everyone to hear, and his brothers finally realize that something is wrong and split up to search for you. He chokes out your name and slumps onto your bed, inhaling your familiar scent when he holds your shirt, one that he bought you, to his face and sobs. He can hear his brothers' heavy footfalls throughout the house while they look for you, but deep down, he already knows you're gone.

Beel glances at the stands and wipes sweat and dirt from his brow. He can spot his brothers easily enough—it's hard to miss them, with the way Asmo's waving the glittery handmade sign with his name in bold pink lettering—but he doesn't see you. There's an empty space between Mammon and Levi where you normally sit, and they've kept it free for when—if—you show up. You've never missed one of his games, not ever. Maybe the argument earlier upset you more than he realized. He knows you don't normally eat his food on purpose. He knows you meant it when you sputtered apologies when you realized your mistake. He knows how hurt you were when he shouted at you in a hungry rage. The rest of the game passes by in a blur. He moves on autopilot, his mood growing more and more despondent each time he checks the crowd and realizes you're still not there. He barely recognizes his team's happy cheers when the game ends in victory. He has a quick shower and makes his excuses to his teammates because he already has plans for dinner tonight, with you, hopefully. He stops by Hell's Kitchen and picks up your favourite takeaway order and heads home. It's a peace offering, one of many apologies he owes you.

By the time he knocks on your door, he's eager to see you. Silence. He knocks again and waits, and he hesitantly pushes the door open when his greeting goes unanswered. You're not in your room, and after a quick search of the house, he realizes you're not anywhere. He visits your room over and over again as if you'll finally pop out and tell him you were just teasing him, because you wouldn't ever leave him on purpose, right? His name on a handmade sign on your bed, and one of his old jerseys he gave you, are all that you left behind and he wonders if he would've been able to stop you leaving had he come home to you sooner. (Your takeaway dinner remains uneaten in the fridge in case you come back, and Beel refuses to eat it himself or let anyone else eat it either. One of his brothers has to throw it away when it eventually turns rancid—Beel can't bring himself to do it, because it means admitting you may never come back.)

Belphie doesn't like sleeping alone. Most nights if he sleeps alone, it's by choice—his choice. Tonight should've ended like most nights do: with the both of you sharing the bed in the attic. He sleeps better when you're close. You're a warm weight curled against him, and the smell of your shampoo and your minty breath are small comforts when he has bad dreams. Sometimes he wakes up in a panic, his shirt damp with cold sweat, and he listens for your quiet snores, proof that you're alive, that the nightmare of your windpipe crushed in his deadly grip isn't real. Belphie sleeps in the attic alone tonight because you decided you needed space. It's petty revenge for earlier when he woke up from a nap in a foul mood and snapped at you in his frustration. He fluffs his pillow and his bottom lip juts out in a pout. He can't get comfortable and it's your fault. The house grows quiet as his brothers retire to their rooms and fall asleep, and Belphie senses when you finally drift off to sleep too. If he wakes up before you tomorrow, he'll crawl into your bed and hope that you'll be more receptive to his apology when you wake up.

It takes longer than usual but he finally falls asleep and feels content. Even when he's unconscious, he instinctively reaches for your presence and it calms him. Your dreamscape is like a little pond, and he watches from his own nearby shore as your thoughts pass by in a blur, like slick oil paintings skimming over a watery surface. He doesn't like to intrude on your dreams if he can help it—he only interferes when he senses them slipping into nightmares instead. He tells himself it's not selfish to erase them for you, but the truth is that he's not sure he can stomach seeing his own face reflected in your dreams anymore, not with its wicked sneer and bloodstained teeth. He's not sure he forgives himself for what he did to you, and he wonders if you've truly forgiven him too.

Something odd in your dreamscape shifts suddenly and it catches Belphie's attention. The images in your subconscious grow murky and twisted, like they're being sucked down into some unseen void. Your presence is like sand falling through his fingertips, and it's harder and harder for him to feel you. He reaches out to your mind to wake you up because he doesn't know what's wrong, but something about this scares him. He jolts awake in the attic, chest heaving with the final memory of something snapping in his mind, like the cord that tethered you to him was suddenly cut. Eventually his brothers get up too and he can hear the commotion coming from down the stairs. He makes his way to your room in a trance before they can come find him. He already knows what his brothers are struggling to understand, the truth that no one can explain. You're gone somewhere far away, impossibly out of his reach, and he dreads falling asleep and feeling the void your absence left behind.

Sleep evades him until he forces himself to try and rest, and he finds himself in your bed instead of his own. He curls himself around your pillow underneath your sheets, clinging to the last whiffs of your scent, and he hopes you'll wake him up and tell him this was nothing but a bad dream. (Your scent fades away long before the nightmare ends, and he stops sleeping in your room after that.)

read more: obey me masterlist

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yxami · 6 months

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Happy nut or not November day 10

desc: desperate yandere x gn reader, slight hints of masochism/degradation, mentions of stalking, obsession, perverted habits, hint of nsfw if you squint

Desperate yandere that doubles his homemade lunches so the two of you could eat together in case you forget your lunch.

He’s the same guy that ties your shoelaces when you ask with a whiny tone, expecting him to say no at first until he pulls your foot on top of his thigh no matter how expensive his pants are.

He loves to spoil you with little affections but he’d never dare to make anything obvious. No way. He’ll only drop small hints and things that might have you growing a suspicion that he has deeper feelings than a normal friend should.

He’s too shy to admit anything directly, he’s just waiting for you to finally get the lit light bulb in your head about everything.

Desperate yandere that sprays his signature body spray on you that costs an unnecessary amount of money just so people get that you’re always around him even if he’s not already glued at your side to prove it.

Since there are times where he can’t stay right beside you he’ll resort to other tactics as well, either it’s convincing one of his stupid admirers to watch you or downloading a tracking app on your phone without you noticing, he’ll always make sure to keep tabs on you.

The day he gets caught is the day he dies of pure embarrassment.

And unfortunately for him today was the day.

“What is this?” You trap your beloved friend in the gymnasium corner behind the bleachers, the place were couples often went to go make out, but this situation was far from something like that. You were sure that your friend was hiding a certain secret but you weren’t sure what it was.

“Ha.. Um, your phone?” His throat croaks under the pressure as he presses his back into the corner, it should be illegal to be making him feel this hot and bothered, he’s trying to suppress the boiling feeling in his stomach.

“Don’t play games right now, what is this?” You click on a hidden app that was purposefully taken off your home screen, it seemed to be a tracker that people use to watch over their friends and families but you don’t recall getting this and the only other person was unnamed and directly above your profile on the map tracking you.

You clicked on a button that called the profile in the app and his phone started ringing, what a shocker.

“I—I don’t even know why it’s ringing..!” He dryly laughs, fumbling to grab his phone to end the call before you snatch it out his hands, he instinctively reached for it but you shoot a look at him that makes him let out a throaty whine with pink pouty lips.

“Why would you download this on my phone?” You sigh, holding his phone hostage by having it right on top of your phone as you look through his, trying to figure out what else he might have. You’re honestly surprised he hasn’t grabbed it out of fear that you’d find worse things.

“I just… um I don’t know!” His exhale stutters as it sounds like he’s ready to sob, glassy eyes evident as he looks up at you. He pushes his bottom lip even more as he reaches his hand out to cling onto you like he always did before pulling back incase you’d get mad.

“M’sorry..” He murmurs, never failing to stop looking at you, as if to prove his obedience even more than he already did during your friendship.

“Geez, what am I gonna do with you..” You fold your arms, phones still in hand as you lean against the other wall connecting to the corner. He still sits quietly against the other one, as if waiting for your command.

“Forgive me?” He frowns, daring to suggest something even if it rhetorical. He has a feeling from your words that you’re not actually pissed so he gets up and hugs you, pressing himself into you as he drops his head on your shoulder, inhaling your comfortable scent.

“Dunno’ I’ll have to think about your punishment” You feel for his back pocket to shove his phone into and he pressed himself more into you as if to give you more range to touch him, shamelessly enjoying your hands on him. He probably would’ve enjoyed you kicking his ass too.

“Okay, can it be at your house?” He says with too much of an eager tone than you needed right now. If he had a tail it would’ve been wagging at the idea too.

“Don’t think that this is a reward” You yank near the bottom of his hair when you feel him getting too cocky and running his hands down the small of your back. He lets out a filthy moan with blush pouring across his face as he looks slightly up, showing his adams apple.

“Sorry, I’ll behave..!” He submissively says, hoping you’d just attack his neck with kisses and bites to mark him but even he knows that’s out of the question right now.

Maybe you’d do it when he came over..?

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wandasaura · 2 months

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BURNING BRIGHTER THAN THE SUN

summary — the annual maximoff memorial day barbecue has finally come, but so has a softer side of your dominants

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, mentions of dom/sub dynamics, this is 90% fluff, shower sex, quickie, fingering, oral, nipple stimulation, hickies, its relatively tame in comparison to what lives in this au, domestic fluff, mentions of pietro being dead as fuck, men/minors dni

authors note — remember when i said i was taking a little break? yeah i lied and im not sorry about it!

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff

The warmth and promise of sunshine had quickly taken hold of Westview, days of long darkness and snow storms came to be just a memory, thawed out by butterflies and the occasional white dove that pecked at the birdfeeder on the back porch of the Maximoff residence. You couldn’t understand how the sky was so much brighter in warmer weather, but as you sat beside Natasha on the cusp of solid Earth, you thought it looked bluer than usual. The crashing waves before you licked at your feet and dampened the shorts you wore when the tide dared to try and swallow you whole, but like changing seasons, it never stayed quick.

Sunrise had barely hit its peak and already the traces of pink and orange were just another mental memory for the big scrapbook of moments you never wanted to forget. The sand was coarse beneath the fingers that hours earlier had been dug into soft blankets, but refreshing and welcomed despite how small granules crept beneath your nails when you picked it up the wrong way. Natasha hummed an old lullaby beneath her breath, eyes closed and face tilted toward the sun like a lonely flower that had managed to grow in an abandoned field. You knew much about the woman's past, but not enough to understand her connection to the star that brought you light each new day. Now wasn’t the time to ask, but you knew that eventually you’d come to know the reason for her methods of relief in hard times.

The first weekend of break had come on quick, and the barbeque that Wanda and Natasha had frantically tried to tidy the house for before your attitude interrupted them was merely hours away. Despite the plans and the people coming over, time had been taken out of the day to devote just to you. In this moment, sitting on the edge of solid ground beneath rays of sun that attempted to burn you, you couldn’t even explain how truly loved you felt.

The beach was empty, void of the presence of others and quiet for your enjoyment, save for the seagulls who squawked over scraps and the waves that crashed against man made piers and naturally jagged rocks. Your toes were coated in sand, your fingers in the same state, but you didn’t care to think about the messy things at that moment, you only wanted to focus on the good. The good was Natasha’s arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you close like a stray wave might succeed in carrying you out to sea. The good was Wanda’s perfume that lingered around the collar of your stolen shirt like the scent was woven into the cotton. The good was being here, being free and alive. The good was knowing Natasha. The good was having Wanda. The good was knowing love and having love.

You laid your head down on the woman’s shoulder, noting how her hair seemed to glow beneath the sunlight. In this moment, it wasn’t auburn with scuffs of brown thrown in at the roots, it was orange like fire made by those long before lights and lanterns existed. She was ethereal, sat out beneath the early daylight, bearing her freckles for the sky to adore. You’d attempted to count them earlier, your gaze stuck on her naked face with blemishes and beauty marks sporadically thrown into the mix, but somewhere after thirty they all blended together and you settled for simply looking at them, admiring how you were somehow allowed to see them.

You were happier in spring, happiest in summer, but recently, you have found those seasons in people. Wanda was like the early days of May, where weather was warm but also cold, and sunlight was soft but somehow harsh. Natasha was like summer, late July if you thought about a specific moment. Like the air she was sweet, but like the people she was calm, and like the night she was chaos wrapped up in laughter and loved company. They weren’t perfect, you would never call them such, but they were as close to it as people could get.

A soft smile graced your features, and though you squinted to lessen the sting of sunlight, Natasha thought you looked stunning. When her eyes reopened and her head tilted downward to look at you, there was only affection smeared across her face. Her eyes that were so meticulously different shades of green had a spark within them that could only speak of the happiness she felt. How words had existed for so long and still there wasn’t one to describe the intense feelings that rushed through the both of you, you didn’t know, but you were content enough to rest against her with the knowledge that even if you couldn’t say it, you were both feeling it.

“We’ve gotta head back soon.” Your beautiful moment was ripped into tiny pieces of paper that got caught in the breeze before they made it into the recycling can, and the smile that had turned your lips upward quickly worked in the opposite direction. You shook your head, digging your heels into the sand like the simple action might change her mind and make her forget about the barbeque that was starting at noon. “Not now. I need a couple more minutes of this.”

You giggled softly when she nuzzled into your head, her wild curls tickling your nose because she hadn’t bothered to straighten them yesterday. You reached up, taking one of her curls between your fingers and pulling it taught, letting go to watch it bounce back into place and laid against her forehead with frizzy edges. You sighed in content, running your fingers through her wild hair that couldn’t be tamed in this state. “I like your natural hair.”

Natasha crinkled her nose at your genuine admission. She puckered her lips and let them rest against your finger that was still in front of her face as you softly brushed strands of hair away from her eyes. “My natural hair is blonde.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” You rolled your eyes fondly, snuggling even further into her side despite how hot you felt beneath the sun. No matter the weather you wanted to be pressed up into her, and it was clear that she wanted the same, her arm around your waist squeezed you tight, almost daring you to try and pull away prematurely. “When you met Wanda did she have red hair?”

“No, the red is pretty new. It was brown, a little bit longer than she keeps it now. She was really leaning into the whole emo phase. We could never go out together if she didn’t have red lipstick and eyeliner, she always said it completed her look.” Natasha smiled fondly at the memories that came to mind when she thought about the beginning stages of their relationship, and you felt your own heart warm in your chest as you thought about the young couple they had been. You wondered what kind of odds had been stacked against them, but you didn’t question it, happy to just live in this happy moment.

You let your hand fall back into the sand, rubbing circles that slowly became hearts into the malleable surface. The beach would always be one of your favorite places, but sitting beside Natasha made it better, sweeter. “How long have you been together now?”

“Fourteen years.” Natasha laughed, her own hand reaching out to collect handfuls of sand that she let run between her fingers until only a few granules were left in her palm, and then you watched her repeat the process over again. “Sometimes it feels like it was only a couple of weeks ago, and other times it feels like I’ve never lived without her.”

“I never hated her.” You admitted, though you had the slightest inkling that Natasha already knew that. She just had a way of knowing things before you did. There was no possible way anyone could hate Wanda Maximoff, and if you somehow stumbled upon the only person in the world who did, you didn’t doubt they’d meet a quick and painful demise.

“I know, moya kroshka.” Natasha laughs softly, so softly the sounds of the waves almost drown her out completely, but you still heard her. You’d always hear her. “It’s coming up on a full year since we started this whole thing, have any ideas about what you want to do?”

You shrugged your shoulders, reaching for Natasha’s hand when she lost interest in the sand. She’d taken her rings off last night and with the early wake-up call hadn’t put them back on. The slightest tan kissed her features around where they usually sat, and gently you brushed the pads of your fingers against the pale skin. “I just want to spend it with you both.”

“We can definitely make that happen.” Natasha hummed softly, laying a gentle kiss on the top of your head where sunlight had kissed your hair. Your roots were warm, hot against her lips, but Natasha didn’t flinch away. You knew this moment was coming to an end, but you could appreciate it for the few seconds longer that it lasted. “Wanda probably has breakfast ready, milaya. We’ve gotta start heading back now.”

“Can we come back?” You questioned softly, not wanting to speak too loud as if it could ruin the quiet atmosphere around you. As you stood, dusting sand off the back of your legs, you winced at the ache in your back when you finally found your feet and steadied yourself on them. Natasha did the same, a quiet groan slipping past her lips when she reached down to collect your abandoned sets of flip flops. With one hand occupied, she reached the other out to you.

“We’ll find a day.” She promised with a nod of affirmation. Your hand fits easily in the palm of hers, your fingers curl around her scarred knuckles while hers lay flat against your unbroken ones. Together you’re a perfect balance. Delicate definitely, but not entirely harmless.

Westview sits on the edge of New Jersey, the air tinged with the permanent lingrance of salt and sand. The farther you walk, the less prominent it becomes, but if you know what you’re looking for, the scent of the shore still remains. Houses closest to the water are painted soft colors that linger in the summer sunrises, vacation homes that are only occupied for a handful of months throughout the year, but the deeper you walk the more mundane it becomes. The town is a muted palette of browns and beiges, fences of white and cars of greyscale. It’s perfectly coherent, acceptably mature, but the Maximoff residence remains the outlier. In the blandness of tans and creams, the two-story house is a soft green color with vibrant red shutters. The cars are normal, though elaborate. Unlike the Hondas and Toyotas that occupy driveways and road space, Natasha’s sleek Corvette Stingray sits beside Wanda’s Audi R8 in the driveway, the only flex of their wealth that’s apparent. You like it though, like how they’re so different from everyone else.

You make sure to kick the sand still clinging to your heels off before you step into the house, and immediately you’re met with the aroma of sweet sugar and maple. Natasha hums at the change of scent, leaving behind the traces of salt that had tickled her nose the entire walk back to the house in favor of discovering what Wanda had prepared for breakfast. She drags her hand across your back as she passes you, seeking out the presence of her wife.

You're slower to follow, taking your time to meticulously stack your flip flops with the rest of the shoes in the entryway. They don’t match the aesthetic of Valentino loafers and Prada heels, but you smile at the sight anyways. Your favorite pair of white converse sit beside the shoes Wanda wears into the office every work day, and your balled up pink socks are tucked into Natasha’s running shoes for some reason, but the little traces of your place here makes you feel at home. You’re not so different from the shore that lingers through Westview in the winter, but unlike the water that’s abandoned when snow falls, they’ll never forget about you when the seasons inevitably change.

“Where did you leave the stray?” You just barely catch the end of whatever conversation has led to that question when you finally appear in the kitchen. The sunlight is golden now, no longer soft with pink and orange, but it falls over Wanda like the perfect blanket anyways. She’s wrapped up in Natasha’s arms, pinned to the stovetop where bacon rests in a hot pan. The only indication that this moment is less than perfect is the hot grease that pops and splatters every other second when Wanda neglects it for too long.

“You know, you should really be nice to me before I start biting your ankles like a real stray.” You hum, your voice carrying through the kitchen like it’s always belonged there, though it’s not a response derived from annoyance like it would have been only weeks ago. Rather, your words are layered with fond exasperation that Wanda finds herself laughing at.

Natasha kisses the lawyer's shoulder, squeezes her waist tightly, whispers something in Russian that’s not entirely audible from how far away you stand, before she pulls away entirely and walks toward the refrigerator. You pout when she pulls out the near empty pitcher of orange juice, setting it down on the island to be poured into glasses when breakfast is ready. It seems you could’ve spent a few more minutes beneath the sun, but you don’t complain. This is just as nice, just different.

“That’s my job.” You sulk, letting your naked feet slap against the hardwood floors as you approach with sadness written across your expression. “Wanda, your wife took my job.”

Natasha only narrows her eyes at you, the faintest ghost of a smile on her lips that she doesn’t even attempt to school. “It was my job first.”

“Well it’s my job now!” You stuck your tongue out at her, sulking your way over to Wanda who lets you wrap your body around hers like a baby koala. With your front pressed up against hers, you have to crane your head backward to catch a glimpse of her face, but you're pleased to know she’s already looking down at you. You pout your lips up at her, grinning in victory when she kisses your frown away with a sigh of faux exasperation. “Can I have a new job?”

Wanda laughs at your question, her fingers sliding beneath the waistband of your shorts to sit on the skin of your ass that’s still marked from days prior. You sighed in relief at the contact, leaning heavily into her chest when she rubs away the lingering ache that truthfully doesn’t bother you much anymore. It doesn’t last long, there’s still much to be done before noon rolls around, but you soak up every ounce of domesticity this morning has offered. “Sit on the counter and look pretty for me while I finish up with the bacon.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” You giggle after saluting her, wiggling out of her arms and sliding your way up onto the countertop that’s practically become your designated spot since she stopped reprimanding you about sitting up here. Natasha crosses the little space between the edge of the island to where you’re perched watching Wanda cook, and you hum in pleasure when she leans forward to connect your lips.

Your hands wrap around her shoulders and fingers tangle into the baby hairs at the nape of her neck. You smile into the kiss, beyond content with the little bubble that’s existed around you since being roused from sleep at five in the morning. A shriek of surprised laughter fills the kitchen when Natasha pulls away from your lips and buries her face in the crock of your neck, a raspberry tickling the sensitive skin as she blows against it. You squirm away from the sensation, but your arms still keep her locked in place.

“Hi, Natty.” You giggle, tugging gently at the loose curls that your fingers are twisted between. She smiles at your happiness, pecking your lips a handful of times before she pulls away and whispers back the same greeting. “You smell like the beach.” You point out, giggling at Natasha’s extravagant eye roll.

“You both smell like the beach and will be taking a shower after breakfast.” Wanda chimed into the conversation, tapping your thigh in warning as she opened the cabinet just beside your head. It had become routine at this point for her to simply work around you, so the clattering of plates beside your ear didn’t bother you much.

When she turned around to grab the serving plate of belgian waffles on the island, your hand shot out to slap her ass, all thoughts of controlling your limbs forgotten. But really, who could blame you when she was wearing the shortest cotton shorts that had ever been sold in stores? Natasha had to bury her face in your neck to muffle her laughter, and you could feel her wide grin against your skin as you smirked innocently back at Wanda who set a firm glare in your direction.

“Behave yourself.” She warned half-heartedly, absolutely no bite to her warning as you’d all just accepted the natural occurrence of the day, your roles as dominant and submissive forgotten about. You liked this exchange, not because you felt any less their equal when they bossed you around and set expectations upon your shoulders, but because it was the faintest glimpse at what life could be if they weren’t married and you were really their girlfriend. “Don’t even think about it, Natalia.” Wanda warned, already knowing Natasha was about to do the same thing you had been bold enough to accomplish.

The redhead merely smirked and shrugged her shoulders, feigning innocence as she pulled away from your embrace and brought the drink glasses and pitcher into the dining room. You hopped off the counter the same as you always do, mimicking Natasha’s shrug when Wanda winced at the action. You grabbed the platter of bacon from her hands and followed after the lawyer who had already exited, eager to see where the day ended up, surrounded by the Maximoff’s closest friends and family members.

The shower water was hot enough to create a thick fog on the glass doors and surrounding mirrors in the en-suite master bathroom, but still it felt cold as you joined Natasha beneath the heavy and unrelenting spray. You shivered despite the heat, reaching for the handle and turning it up even hotter, ignoring the Russian’s protests that her skin was actively melting off her bones. You liked hot showers, but you hated hot baths, and somehow you had yet to find a happy medium that worked for the both of you. Typically you’d compromise and switch off between who melted and who froze, and although it was admittedly your turn to freeze, today was not a day where you were willing to sacrifice feeling in your appendages.

You silenced her whines with a desperate kiss, not even attempting to hide your need for her as you backed her up against the cold tile walls and pinned her hands to her sides. Your tongue was unrelenting as it licked and sucked at hers, tasting the minty toothpaste that she had rinsed from her mouth only minutes before you’d sought out her presence. When your teeth bit down on her tongue, just hard enough to send a shock of excitement down to her core, Natasha decided that being pliant in your hold wasn’t working for her.

You shrieked in surprise when your position switched easily, the hands that had been firmly holding her wrists against the wall now pinned at your sides in the same way. You arched away from the cold tiles, effectively smashing your chests and eager nipples together as you attempted to run away from the cold wall.

“Fuck!” You shivered, your lips ghosting over hers. “You have a fucking Stingray and you still haven’t discovered heated walls?! What’s the point of having money if you don’t use it for good things!” Your words were quickly replaced by breathy moans as Natasha attached her mouth to your chest and greedily sucked a mark into your untouched skin; a mark that wouldn’t be easily hidden, especially not with the swimsuit you had been intending on wearing for the party. “Fuck, Nat–” You pushed her head away, hoping you’d acted quick enough for the damage to be only minimal. The smirk on her lips told you that you hadn’t succeeded, and you slapped at her shoulder in exasperation. “Your sister is literally going to be here in two hours, can you contain your vampire impulses until she leaves?!”

“My sister has fucked her girlfriend in my guest bedroom. A hickey should be the least of her worries.” Natasha threw back at you, attacking her mouth to your nipple with purpose. You had ten minutes to sort yourselves out before Wanda came stomping up the stairs and pulling you out of the shower, orgasms or not. You did not want to spend the entire afternoon and evening hot and bothered because you got pussy blocked by a scary Sokovian.

Natasha’s teeth pulled at your nipple, allowing the skin to sting for only a second before she soothed the pain with quick flicks of her tongue. Your other nipple was not privy to the same treatment, but her stumbling fingers attempted to make up for the neglect as she rolled and pinched at the pebbled bud. You shoved her head away from your chest, forcing her down onto her knees and in the direction of where you needed her most. It occurred to you briefly that you should wash her hair as she ate you out, kill two birds with one stone or whatever the saying was, but you quickly backtracked on that idea when her tongue sought out your clit with no lack of drive. Your knees wobbled, your breath got caught in your throat, and desperately your fingers tangled into her hair and pulled her closer. Your hips grinded against her face as she licked and sucked at your nerve with a passion, and you're certain that had the droplets of liquid fire not been falling over her face in a manner that was less than pretty, her chin would’ve glistened with your arousal.

You arched into her touch as your orgasm approached, and Natasha had used the new position of your body as the perfect moment to bury two fingers knuckles deep in your cunt. You gasped in pleasure at the brief sting that came from her actions, crying out her name in pure bliss as she worked you over the edge so quickly you deserved an award for fastest achieved orgasm.

She pulled away with dilated pupils, her own lust not forgotten about. You sank to your knees before her, pushing at her shoulders until she complied with your silent request and was laid out on the shower floor. Unlike you, she didn’t attempt to wiggle away from the flush of cold against her back, and unlike her, you didn’t waste time toying with her nipples. You dove straight into her cunt, lifting one of her legs until it was high enough to drop onto your shoulder. She tasted like she always did, but something about this situation made her more addictive. The spray of the water fell onto her belly, harsh droplets of water tinting the skin pink from not only the temperature but the pressure. One of these days, you’re going to get around to finding out the true pleasure of the detachable shower head, but today was not that day. You didn’t tease, much more intent at working her up and pushing her over before Wanda came to interrupt. Her clit throbbed beneath your tongue as you licked at her, and her walls clenched around your fingers as she pleaded for more.

“Faster.” She moaned, her head thrown back against the white shower floors. The messy sprawl of her red hair was perfectly angelic, but you had no time to dwell on the sight of her as the minutes ticked down to none. Your fingers set into her at a punishing pace, curling into the sweet spot she loved so much until it was just a symphony of your name that rolled off her tongue in breathy whines and moans. You eased her off of the cliff with a practiced ease, giggling softly when she pushed your head away and subsequently caused water to spray in all directions as it bounced off her wrist. “N-Never letting you talk me into a shower quickie again. I think there’s an entire lake in my ears.” She panted, splaying a hand across her belly until she had managed to catch her breath.

“I mean, technically I didn’t talk you into anything. I mouthed you into this.” You giggled, helping her stand and replacing your rough touch with something tender and sweet. You reached for Wanda’s shampoo, not caring that Natasha had her own right beside it. Wanda’s smelled sweeter, and if you were going to be the one to wash the woman’s hair, it would be you who picked the scene she bore for the rest of the day.

You rubbed at her scalp, lathered until it bubbled, and eased your fingers through the knotted locks when it was time to wash it out. Wanda’s conditioner sat in her hair when the process was repeated on your head, and you sighed in relief when Natasha scratched her nails against the nape of your neck before trailing her hands down to your shoulders. Her thumbs worked on the soft muscles between your shoulder blades, and you melted into the firm attention.

“How long can we stay in here before she breaks down the door?” You questioned, your eyes fluttering closed as you let yourself relax completely. Even if you hadn’t said it, you were beyond nervous to be meeting their family and friends. Some of the people attending their barbeque were big names in the security world, namely Kate Bishop, and you intended on making the best first impression if you were to ever have a career in the same field.

“Three minutes.” Natasha chuckled gently, guiding you under the stream of water so she could rinse the soap from your hair. She conditioned you right after, twisting the strands of your hair between her fingers as she worked out the knots and kinks toward the ends. You rinsed her hair when she was done, dragged a loofa across her skin afterward, and then were rewarded with the same loving treatment. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. Everyone coming knows how much you mean to us. They’re all excited to meet you.” Natasha kissed your shoulder before she turned the water off and squeegeed the door clean of droplets and steam, stepping out into the cold first before she offered you a towel.

“I know.” You sighed, drying your body as you tried to force your feelings into words. “I just want to make a good impression. These are your friends. It’s your sister. They matter to you and Wanda.”

“And you matter to me and Wanda just as much. If you’re worried about Yelena, there’s no reason to be. She’s going to act like she hates you because she thinks it's her duty as my little sister to vet whoever I choose to spend my time with, but by the end of the night she’s going to have you trapped by the firepit showing you pictures of her dog. When she met Wanda for the first time, she insulted her in Russian because she thought she wouldn’t understand.” Natasha snorted at the memory, and you couldn’t help but grin bashfully at the admission. “You’re going to get along fine, and honestly that worries me. I can barely handle you by yourself.”

“Hey!” You slapped at her side, but couldn’t help the wide smile that threatened to split your lips in half as you stared up at her. “I’ll be on my best behavior, promise.”

“I don’t doubt that, утенок.” Natasha leaned forward to kiss your lips, and you returned the gesture though a crinkle of confusion settled across your brows.

You asked once she pulled away, wrapping the towel tightly around your torso so that you could make a break for the guest bedroom where your outfit for the day remained. “What does that one mean?”

“Duckling.” She laughed, and you groaned knowing that it was going to stick around, at least for a little while. You’d been quite privy to Wanda in recent days, call it making up for lost time if you really had to explain your reasonings, and both the Russian and Sokovian had chalked up your clinginess as acts of a duckling blindly following its mother. If Wanda was anywhere in the house, you were right behind her. Yesterday you had genuinely pouted at the bathroom door when she forbade you from coming in with her when she needed to pee, and unluckily enough for you, Natasha had come into the bedroom at just the right time to watch the scene unfold. “Go get dressed. Yelena said she’s arriving at twelve which really means she’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

You nodded quickly, bolting out of the master bathroom and into your claimed bedroom without a moment of hesitance, not wanting Yelena to arrive before you were dressed. The door wasn’t even fully closed before you were dropping your towel and scrambling to find your bathing suit bottoms in the pile of messy clothes stacked on the dresser.

Droplets of chlorinated water lingered on touches of skin that had yet to be dried by the slowly slipping Spring sun; still a ripple of motion in the pool that hadn’t yet gone completely still with the fresh absence of bodies in the water. The crack of wood submitting to controlled flames accompanied the music of laughter and conversation that happened around you. The evening was long ahead of you, eternal more hours of company promised, but you didn’t feel any obligation to join in on jokes and memories as you fell into Wanda’s lap and snuggled in close, seeking her warmth and comfort as a chill set overtop of you. You’d been drinking all afternoon, being handed hard seltzers and beers whenever anyone noticed your hands were empty. You’d finished a handful of Wanda and Natasha’s chosen drinks, taking it upon yourself to try at least one of every flavor they had laying around the backyard. The flush on your cheeks was near permanent at this point, and though the heat in your ears would be gone by morning and replaced with a headache only Advil and sleep could soothe, the kiss on your cheeks would last days before it settled into darkened skin.

As promised, Yelena had kept you pinned to the edge of the pool when the sun was still at its highest peak in the sky, showing you pictures and videos of the two dogs she took great pride in caring for. Kate had watched for a while, draped across her girlfriend's shoulder as the three of you laughed at a particular video of Fanny and Lucky dressed up in bowties zooming around their daylight drenched kitchen, but she had excused herself to the bathroom before the end was in sight. Maria Hill had been your savior, though you were content with Yelena’s easy presence not to mind your trapped position much while it had lasted. The early hours of the afternoon had been filled with conversation and the act of acquainting, but the later hours had told a different story; a wild one. It was the story of how you had come to find this state of mind, far past the point of being tipsy and well on your way to true drunkness.

You hummed when Wanda laid her palm flat over your belly, keeping you close and safe in her lap. The soft pad of her thumb tickled your belly button as she adjusted slowly, sinking further down into the lounge chair she sprawled across. The sloppy smile on your face was the truest indication of your contentment, and Wanda, though she wondered who had been the one to feed you so much alcohol without her realizing, returned the grin.

Natasha and Yelena were noticeably missing from the circle, but the silhouettes of their wild hair and toned shoulders were figures or darkness in the kitchen that promised a quick return. Natasha, though only an inch or so taller than her sister, wore her curls in a messy bun that slipped lower and lower down her head as the hours carried on. She was easiest to spot from a distance, the shadow of her presence known perfectly to you. Wanda didn’t pay you much attention other than the firm hand on your belly, but you were content to just be with her as she laughed and caught up with the blonde woman sat beside her; Carol Danvers.

“They put up a new plaque for Pietro today.” Carol laughed at the inkling of information she had forgotten to share earlier in the afternoon, and Wanda craned her head in hopeful willingness that Carol would share more. “He would’ve loved it. He’s the only bastard on the squad that was dumb enough to have a catch phrase.”

As if that mentioned catch phrase had been sitting on the lips of every person gathered around the fire, it fell from soft tongues without a moment of hesitation. Messy, not at all in tune, but seemingly perfect to Wanda who smiled when horrible Sokovian accents caught up to her ears and the words her brother had made his slogan lived on when even he didn’t, “You didn’t see that coming.”

Memorial day has never held much significance to you. It had been just another holiday that sat on the start of summer, sometimes warm enough for gatherings like these, and sometimes not. Until you realized that the American flag folded in militant perfection in the master bedroom was a symbol of remembrance, you hadn’t thought it held much significance to the CEO’s either. Even though you hadn’t known Pietro, his life ending years before your path had crossed with the Maximoff’s, you smiled. His name had lingered in conversations throughout the day, and you didn’t question how loved he still was after years of absence.

Wanda’s lips were heavy on the crown of your head when she leaned down to kiss you. You leaned into the touch, your eyes fluttering closed for the briefest second before they opened and found Natasha admiring the sight of you. Two beers retrieved from the cooler near the pool sat in her hands, one cracked open and extended in your direction.

“She doesn’t need anymore.” Wanda rolled her eyes, but didn’t stop you from grabbing the long necked bottle Natasha offered and adjusting yourself in her lap so that you could sip on it easily, having already spilled one drink down the front of you. With your back against her chest, and your legs situated between hers, you had to crane your neck to catch even the slightest glimpse of her face, but her arms around your torso were the physical assurance of her presence. She rubbed at the skin of your belly that had grown pink and warm beneath the sun, not yet tan, but it would come soon. The hickey on your chest had long since been forgotten, though Yelena had posed many questions of its origin before Kate slapped her shoulder and changed the topic. You’d been accepted without question, and you found that while some of their friends were painfully intimidating, Maria and Carol, they were truly sweethearts who had the same tendencies of protection as your dominants.

When your beer had grown warm, and your cheeks had grown flusher, having been in no hurry to finish it off and replenish it like Yelena was doing, you passed the near empty bottle off to Natasha who had taken it not without an exasperated roll of her eyes and a mumbled sentence along the lines of being nothing but your servant. You had giggled, shrugged your shoulders, and curled further into Wanda who didn’t seem to even flinch at your elbow digging into her ribs.

Despite your determination to remain awake, sleep won over you just as quickly as drunkenness had. Wanda merely rubbed your back in encouragement, being the single factor that had forced you into soft unconsciousness when conversations still buzzed around you. With your eyes closed and your breathing even, no chance of being woken even by the harshest storm, conversation had naturally flowed away from Pietro and onto you, but both Wanda and Natasha welcomed the new topic if it meant having the welcomed opportunity to boast about just how truly sweet you are.

“I see you played the long game, Maximoff.” Maria winked at the Sokovian, her icy blue eyes admiring your innocent form as you attempted to wiggle closer to the auburn haired women who held you tightly. If you could find a way to burrow yourself beneath her skin, she knew that you would’ve done so already.

“Patience rewards those who have it.” Wanda merely smirked in response, running her pruney fingers from hours of holding sweating cans and bottles through your chlorine stiff hair. “She just needed a little encouragement.”

“She wasn’t the only one.” Natasha rolled her eyes, sipping slowly on her beer that despite the warmth, still brought a piece of home over her longing heart. Russians may drink vodka, but Melina Vostokoff had always preferred a beer.

Wanda shrugged, knowing that despite her persistently cold demeanor, she had never truly doubted how her heart yearned for you. “It’s not my fault you brought home a brat.”

“If I remember correctly, you said the same thing when you met Natasha.” Carol smirked over the lip of her can, her eyes burning holes into the side of Natasha’s face, though the Russian pointedly ignored her stare.

“Watch it, Danvers.” She warned, but surrendered to the teasing she had missed in recent months. Life was busy, but they’d always find a reason to come back together.

#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dom!natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dom!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #wandanat #wandanat x reader #dom!wandanat x reader #wandanat smut #wandanat fluff #series: you are in love #minors dni ৎ୭

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waterlilydrops · 16 days

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Jealous Looks Good On You

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader

summary: Lewis can’t stand you flirting with other men anymore, even though there isn’t anything real between you two. For now.

word count: 2.1k

warning: angst, fwb to lover, 18+ only, nsfw, explicit sex content, oral sex(f received), dirty talk, slightly Dom/Sub, edging, actress!reader, mentions of film Anatomie D’une Chute

note: That’s inspired by an anon, thx! I really enjoy describing Lewis kneeling down :) As always, advices are welcome.

Tonight marked your debut at the Caesar Awards. Following your recent collaboration on Anatomie D’une Chute with Justine Triet, where you showcased exceptional chemistry, and the film clinched six awards at Cannes, your life took a dramatic turn.

Looked at your publicist, she nodded encouragingly, signaling for you to make your grand entrance.

Stepping out of the limo, your Jimmy Choo stilettos firmly planted on the ground, you exuded confidence. No longer clad in the Zara dress from the roadshow, you donned a perfectly fitted Dior dress, meticulously altered by several experts to your exact measurements. As you emerged from the luxurious car, the dress swayed gracefully, complemented by Cartier jewelry adorning your neck, items you hadn’t dared to look closely even in the most prominent billboards.

As you began walking down the carpet, fans and photographers started calling your name as soon as they recognized you. It was a surreal moment, and you felt overwhelmed with emotion. Never in a million years would you have imagined that people would know you and actually like you.

You smiled and waved at the fans, blew them a kiss to show your appreciation.

Turning to your publicist, you asked if you could go over and sign a couple of autographs, and she nodded in agreement. With her guidance, you made your way over to the fans, ready to meet them up close. You signed autographs, took selfies, and even shared hugs with a few fans.

When you were told to go for the red carpet interviews, you said bye to them and continued walking along the carpet. Standing beside the host was an young actor from a recent blockbuster film.

His mocha-colored skin glowed under the bright lights, accentuating the sharp contours of his jawline. His eyes, a mesmerizing shade of emerald green, sparkled with an enigmatic allure, like hidden depths of a lush forest.

You walked up the steps and gave them a side hug.

“Hello Y/N, how does it feel being at the Caesar Awards?” The host asked you.

“In all honesty, I’m a bit overwhelmed. I grew up watching you interview celebrities, admiring your skill and professionalism, and now I find myself in there interviewing by you — it just doesn’t feel real yet!” you answered with a light laugh.

“We are absolutely thrilled to have you here! Now you’re making me feel old!” He laughed, and you couldn’t help but join in, his easygoing demeanor helping to calm your nervousness. He continued, “Now, about the Anatomie D’une Chute, was it difficult to handle such a complex character?”

“It’s always daunting to step into uncharted territory, especially when tackling such a multifaceted character. Fortunately, having collaborators as gifted as Justine Triet, Sandra Hüller by my side made the journey infinitely more rewarding. They truly were my anchor through it all, and I owe their everything.”

As you were engrossed in conversation, your heart skipped a beat as your fingers brushed against your borrowed necklace, which suddenly slipped off. With a gasp, you watched in horror as it tumbled downward, a shimmering cascade of precious diamonds.

Acting on instinct, the young man standing beside you swiftly sprang into action, his chivalrous instincts kicking in as he intercepted the necklace just before it could kiss the ground.

You let out a breathless sigh of relief, momentarily forgetting the interview as you exclaimed, “Oh my goodness, thank you so much for catching it. Otherwise, Cartier would have my head!”

He gave a small, bashful smile, “Would it be too much if I ask to put it on you?”

“Not at all.” you smiled at him and his smile stretched across his entire face.

And so you turned around and scooped your hair up, allowing him to graze the back of his fingers ever so gently across your skin and secure your jewelry where it once was.

That evening, the video of the young celebrity putting a necklace on you went viral on social media. Everyone marveled at the sparks flying between you two, especially after the almost cheek-to-cheek selfie you took at the afterparty. Among the millions who viewed the clip, one pair of eyes lingered longer than the rest — Lewis Hamilton.

Of course, he followed you and your fan pages on his alternate account; Those videos would certainly appear on his reels. But he truly despised seeing you walking with another man on your arm. You seemed awfully comfortable around him, your hands touching him easily and your body tilted towards his.

“Looks like you were having fun.”

“It’s none of your business, Lew.”

Lewis tried to hold back his scoff. It’s none of your business. As if you were just casual acquaintances. As if you didn’t nuzzle into his chest at night, his arousal awakening to find your legs draped provocatively over his hips. As if you didn’t welcome him with a sultry smile, intertwining their fingers after passionate encounters, your thumb tracing teasing circles on the back of his hand as you share intimate secrets of your past. As if you didn’t prefer his hoodie over your own clothes, the fabric clinging to your curves like a second skin, or eagerly moan his name from the other end of a steamy video call.

But yeah. None of his business.

“Where are you?”

“Home.”

Lewis was driving a sleek silver sports car on the roads of South France. The car zoomed past the twisting roads, its engine emitting a deep roar, leaving a blurry trail of exhaust in the air. The spring breeze brushed against his face, tousling his braids, but it didn’t calm him down. He just wanted to go faster.

As you turned the doorknob and opened the door, Lewis stood before you.

Inviting him inside, his gaze immediately met yours with an intensity that didn’t go unnoticed. Oh. You recognized the familiar signs – the darkening of his eyes, the tightness of his jaw. his knuckles, tightly gripping the edge of his hoodie’s hem, displayed a tension you couldn’t ignore.

He looked god damn handsome.

“Lewis, What’s gotten into you?”

“Do you honestly think it’s none of my business?” he questioned straightly, his frustration evident in his tone.

Raising a brow, you met his gaze steadily.

“I do actually,” you replied, a hint of amusement coloring your words. “Why do you care so much anyway? It's not like we’re in an actual relationship or something.”

The truth between yours was that one day at a premier of your film held in Monte-Carlo, Lewis and you crossed paths and exchanged a few lines.

“Congratulations on your wonderful film”,“Thank you, Mr. Hamilton, I really appreciate it”, “And I must admit, You’re even more stunning in person than you are on screen.” he added with a charming smile.

And just like that, Amidst the glitz and glamour of the event, your encounter marked the beginning of something unexpected. What had started as a casual fuck swiftly evolved into a friends-with-benefits arrangement, two souls found solace in each other’s company, navigating the delicate balance between passion and discretion amidst the azure coastline.

“And what the hell was with you? Do you even know how bad it would be if the media find you were speeding driving—”

“Then let's make this real.”

Lewis interrupted you with a declaration. “I‘m done with this charade.”

His voice tinged as he stood before you, his hands clasped tightly together, “I’d be a better choice than that actors. F1 is a global sport, and I’m a seven-time World Champion.” His eyes were searching for any sign of agreement or understanding. “Plus, We understand each other better, in various ways.” He expressed his points as clearly as if he were speaking at the UN.

“8-time actually.” You corrected him, causing a groan rasped out of him.

“Lewis,” you whispered, inched closer, invaded his personal space and allowed your bodies to touch.

“What?” he grunted roughly, his body betraying him as it relaxed under your touch.

“Are you jealous?” Your hand rested on his, a playful grin dancing on your lips, your voice a seductive murmur grazing his skin.

“Yes. I’m deeply in love with you,” Lewis sighed, his gaze wandering, avoiding your intense stare.

“Hmm, is Lewis Hamilton is asking me to be his... girlfriend? and apparently he is an extremely jealous type.” You feigned innocence with a playful tilt of you head.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He suddenly gripped your arms, pulling you close against his chest. Before you could react, he fiercely pressed his lips to yours, kissing you passionately as if he wanted to pour all of his emotions into this moment.

“Hey,” when Lewis stopped, you said gently. “Look at me, baby.” You called him by the name reserved for your most intimate moments.

Caught in the warmth of your gaze, Lewis relaxed. With a tender gesture, you leaned in, brushing a feather-light kiss upon his lips, your hands still entwined.

“I know,” you whispered softly. “I’m in love with you too.”

He could feel his heart engulfed in a whirlwind of joy and elation, every beat resonating with an overwhelming sense of happiness.

As your gazes locked, the tension between you ignited, enveloping you in a cocoon of desire.

You wrapped in Lewis’s arms as he initiated a passionate kiss. You could feel the prominence of his erection pressing against you.

As his hands found their place on your hips, you felt a sudden lift, your body effortlessly rising from the floor as he gently deposited you onto the counter.

Moving large tattooed hands up the length of your thighs, Lewis hiked your T-shirt up above your hips and tucked his fingers under the waistband of your panties. A mixture of desire and reverence floods him as he slides them down your legs.

He panted, “fuck, I need to taste you.”

He knelt before you, drawing himself nearer as he firmly grasped the underside of your thighs, his hands spread you open just wide enough that he could lean his face into your mound.

Mere seconds stretched into an eternity as the warmth of his breath caressed your delicate skin.

His tongue gently grazed the sensitive inner thighs, his warm and moist mouth enveloping the lips. And then tongue cunningly explored the slit, alternating between tight purses and sucking, causing juices to flow freely.

You couldn’t make a sound, your thoughts wholly consumed by each flick of his tongue, every firm press against you, and every pass of his hands over your thigh. He were pushing you to the edge of the cliff. Unable to resist, you lightly rubbed against his face, eager for release.

You closed eyes, feeling every tiny current coursing through your body. Just as the sparks were about to ignite, his tongue suddenly leaved.

“Can’t have you cumming yet, baby.” He looked up at you, wicked grin grown.

“Tell me, can he eat you out like this?”

You couldn’t utter a word, shaking your head eagerly. You groaned at the loss of him. You pussy felt open and empty without his tongue.

“So, he’s already tasted your little cunt?”Lewis slapped at your clit relentlessly. His gaze, a mix of jealousy and anger, consumed every inch of you with insatiable hunger, resenting the pleasure you were receiving from someone else.

You gasped sharply, a desperate “never”escaping your lips, reached down and tangled your fingers in his hair, pushing his head into you, with pleading eyes.

“My Good girl.” He lowered his head, the scruff of his beard rubbing against the skin of your sensitive thighs added to the overwhelming sensation of being held into place by his strong hands and that tongue fucking every part of your cunt so thoroughly.

He picking up his pace as he desperately sucked and slurped the folds of your pussy, lapping up your juices as if he were starved and this was the only thing that’d quell his insatiable hunger.

“Let go,” he moaned into you, “come on, baby, let me taste it.”

Your toes curled as you finally gave in to that all too familiar feeling, trembling in his grasp as he brought you to climax with his mouth, and it took every ounce of restraint to not screaming out in pleasure.

As you gradually descended from your euphoric peak, the man followed up with a series of slow, drawn-out licks, gently coaxing you back to reality. Moments later, he rose from the floor, his chin glistening with a sweet combination of drool and your own essence. He pressed one final, tender kiss to your lips.

“Bedroom, babe,” he murmurs, he voice husky with desire. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

“Lew, what’s the deal with this contact and your credit card?”

“My stylist. Maybe she could help with your red carpet look.”

“And the card?”

“Grab yourself a tough necklace that never comes off your neck.”

#lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 smut

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scarletts-scribbles · 3 months

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Sleeping Beauty

⁀➷ Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

⁀➷ Notes: Hey! I am so sorry this took so long! Things got busy and life was in the way so enjoy an almost 4k long saga of pure Nat fluff as a humble apology <3 (excuse editing mistakes, its too late :,)

⁀➷ Summary: The 5 times Natasha Romanoff falls asleep where she shouldn't and the 1 time she does.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Falling asleep was usually done in a bed. Preferably a comfy bed with a large spread of blankets to nestle into. That was your idea of a good place to sleep at least. However, as you’d come to learn, Natasha wasn’t exactly picky on where she chose to sleep.

The first time it had happened, the two of you were on a long train journey across Europe. You had been tasked with a mission in Prague, and Natasha insisted on accompanying you – which of course, you didn’t object to. Despite the urgency of the mission, the train ride had offered a rare moment of respite from the chaos of your usual lives.

You were only a couple hours or so into the half-day long journey when Natasha had seemingly lost interest in the book she’d been reading over, shifting in her seat as she folded the corner of her page and set the book on the small accompanying table. The train the two of you were riding was fairly modern, which made a pleasant change for once, so the luxury having a table with your seats was definitely something she was going to make use of.

You glanced over down at her, observing her subtle movements. She caught your gaze and offered a small, mysterious smile before leaning back in her seat. She sat there for a moment before you heard her shift again, this time you felt Nat’s head come to rest against your shoulder, her whole body leaning into your direction as she cosied up to you.

“You quite comfy there?” You teased gently, earning herself a small laugh as the redhead hid a smile against your shoulder.

"Very comfy," She replied, her voice a low murmur that seemed to vibrate through your chest. "You make a good pillow."

The corners of your lips rose into an amused grin, “Is that so?” You rolled your eyes playfully as your hand came to settle on the back of her head, fingers running softly through her gorgeous red curls.

As the rhythmic clattering of the train wheels continued, Natasha's breathing gradually slowed, and you could feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest against your side. The next time you’d looked down at her, her eyes had fluttered closed. Not in the way that someone rests their eyes but in way that someone closed their eyes after they’d given into the lull of sleep.

My, my, Natasha Romanoff. How you weren’t going to forget this.

You stole glances at her every now and then, admiring the serene expression on her face as she surrendered to sleep. It was a side of Nat that few were privileged to see – she was vulnerable, peaceful, and utterly captivating. Her usually alert demeanour softened in slumber, her features smooth and unguarded. Usually, this type of vulnerability was reserved for spaces where she couldn’t be witnessed but here, she was, curled up on your shoulder, sound asleep for the world to see.

You didn’t dare to disturb her, afraid that any sudden movement might wake her up. Instead, you shifted slightly to find a more comfortable position, careful not to jostle your sleeping girlfriend too much.

But as time passed, you found yourself growing accustomed to the weight of her head against your shoulder, the warmth of her body seeping into yours. It was a sensation you hadn't expected to enjoy as much as you did, feeling oddly content in this shared moment.

･ﾟ:

Now that was the thing about Natasha, she never failed to surprise you. Natasha Romanoff, the dangerous Black Widow herself. You could’ve never imagined she could possibly be so soft like this. It was from that moment onwards that you’d started to take a more thorough note of her sleeping habits.

The next memorable time had been only a few short weeks later. The pair of you had returned home from your mission and after a day or two settling back in, you both had to do the one thing every Avenger dreaded.

Mission reports.

They were just so boring! Of course, you understood why they were necessary for health and safety and such, but those reasons never seemed to be enough encouragement to sit from the hours of typing up, signing and filing documents. But it had to be done.

At least this time you had Natasha with you. The pair of you always did yours together anyway so being on joint missions just simplified the task. It wasn’t hard by any means, just very, very tedious.

You let out an exaggerated sigh as you stared at the mountain of paperwork in front of you, scattered across the table. Natasha, ever the professional, sat next to you, her expression stoic as she typed away on her laptop. The dim lighting in the room only added to the monotony of the task at hand.

"Nat, how do you manage to make something as bland as just typing sound so deadly?" You quipped, earning a small smirk from her, “You type with such assertion. It’s honestly impressive.”

She glanced at you over the rim of her reading glasses (the ones which you’d picked out for her even though she had insisted she hadn’t needed them) her green eyes locking onto yours. "Practice, darling. Lots and lots of practice."

As you both continue typing away, the monotony of the task begins to take its toll. After what felt like an eternity, Natasha finally pushed her laptop away and stretched, her muscles groaning in protest. "I think we've earned a break, don’t you?" She suggested, looking at the clock on the wall. "Why don't you go grab us some food? I'll stay here and finish up the last bit."

Relieved to escape the paperwork for a while, you agreed eagerly. "Food sounds good love. What are you in the mood for?"

She thought for a moment before replying, "Surprise me. Just nothing too greasy, please."

You nodded, standing up and stretching your own tired limbs. "Got it. Mind if I go take a short walk first, I could really use some fresh air, be back in a bit?"

“Yeah of course sweetheart,” Nat smiled and waved you off, “Take your time darling, we’re in no rush.”

You stretched out your arms as you stood up, shaking out the dull aches that had formed before moving round to Nat’s side of the table to plant a sneaky kiss to her cheek, “I won't be too long, maybe half an hour at the longest.”

Your kiss left her warm inside, and you shot her a small wave as you headed out the room. You hadn’t realised how tired you were until you’d started walking around the compound. The heating had been set so it would be comfortably warm for the two of you and the sudden chill of the outside air had you snapping awake. Going for a quick walk didn’t take long, all you really wanted to do was move around a little so after 15 minutes or so, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket and made a pickup order at a local takeout place.

You’d decided pasta was a safe bet for dinner. Plus, you’d added a fruit smoothie for Natasha too. It didn’t take long to collect your food; it was only a short walk away and they’d actually made it fairly fast. In total you’d taken around 25 minutes or so, not too far from your estimate and you hummed to yourself casually as you made your way back the meeting room where you and Natasha had set up in.

As you approached the meeting room, you had to balance the bags of food in your arms, you pushed the door open gently, trying not to disturb Natasha in case she was still working. However, what you saw instead made your heart melt.

There she was, slouched over slightly in her chair, her head resting on folded arms with her curly red hair falling messily onto the desk. The dim reflection of light from her open laptop cast a gentle glow on her peaceful face, accentuating the tired lines that usually went unnoticed.

The sight of your girlfriend snoozing was adorable. You could never quite understand how just small redhead could be so cute. Gently, you reached out to brush a few strands of her tousled hair away from her face, helpless to stop your lips from forming into a soft smile.

The bags of takeout were momentarily forgotten as you carefully set them down on the nearest surface. Sitting down you turn her laptop to face you and quietly get on with completing what was left of her report. The weight of the day's responsibilities seemed to fade away as you typed, your prior displeasure being replaced by a quiet contentment in simply being with her.

It didn't take long to complete and after finishing up the report, you closed her laptop gently and put it away before you gathered the takeout bags and set them on the table, arranging the food neatly – it was still warm luckily.

With a tender smile, you leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Natasha's forehead, eliciting a soft murmur from her. It warmed your heart to see her so at ease, even amid her exhaustion.

Settling back into your chair, you allowed yourself a moment to simply watch her slowly come round from sleep and as Nat stirred awake, blinking sleepily, you couldn't help but chuckle softly at her drowsy expression. "Hey there, sleepyhead," you whispered affectionately, reaching for her hand. "Dinner's ready whenever you are."

･ﾟ:

Some people like to say that twice is coincidence but three’s a pattern. And this was certainly a pattern if you’d ever seen one. But you never expected it to happen twice in the same day. Of course it wasn’t a bad thing or anything, if anything you found it adorable that she trusted you enough to be vulnerable and open around.

You loved that she was so comfortable around you. And that comfortability really came to show a few months later when the pair of you had headed down to the gym to train together. The gym had become your shared haven, a place where the two of you could escape the stresses of daily life and focus on the physical and mental benefits of training.

On this particular day, the gym was buzzing with activity. The rhythmic sound of weights clinking and the occasional thud of medicine balls hitting the floor filled the air, Clint and Thor could also be heard grunting and throwing playful insults as they sparred together. Natasha and you decided to take residency in your usual corner.

As you both warmed up, you couldn't help but notice that Nat seemed a bit more fatigued than usual. You could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the subtle signs of a restless night, and the weariness that clung to her movements. Now that you thought about it, you faintly remembered being woken up by her tossing and turning and you began to wonder if she had even managed to get any sleep at all. You couldn't help but worry about pushing herself too hard.

"Come on, Natasha," you said, concern lacing your voice. "We can take it easy today. It's okay to rest. We don't have to push ourselves so hard every time."

But Nat only flashed you a tired smile, appreciating your concern. "I know, but I need this today. It's my way of clearing my mind and getting a bit of release.”

You nodded but as the session progressed, you made sure to keep a watchful eye over her, just to make sure she wasn't overexerting herself – you knew exactly just how she could get carried away. Yet despise her obvious fatigue, the two of you moved seamlessly through various sets of weights, pushing each other to improve.

Eventually, it was obvious you both needed a short break. Natasha stretched, taking deep breaths to regain some energy. You suggested finding a quiet spot to rest for a few minutes, and she agreed. You both settled down, and Nat leaned against the wall, closing her eyes briefly. After a few minutes the fatigue seemed to catch up with her all at once. She let out a soft sigh, and without intending to she let her head drop and gave into the exhaustion that had been lingering since the night before.

You observed as Natasha's breathing steadied, her features relaxing as she drifted into an unexpected slumber. A small smile played on your lips as you realised just how tired she must have been to actually fall asleep amongst the general clatter of background noise.

“You with me Widow?” You cooed in a low voice, hand coming to move aside a strand of sweat soaked hair from her face, biting back a smile as when she slowly woke back up, mumbling something incoherant to herself before looking up at you through sleepy eyes, “Awh look at you nodding off like that, come on baby, that’s enough for one day.”

You gently helped Natasha to her feet, supporting her as she rubbed her eyes and stretched. She blinked groggily, her eyes meeting yours. A faint grin tugged at the corners of her lips, appreciating the care in your voice.

“You awake enough to go get something to eat or do you wanna go get cosy on the sofa for a bit?”

“Can we watch a movie or something?” Natasha murmured softly, her hand finding your own and intwining her fingers in your own.

Of course you agreed. Nothing sounded better than to cosy up and snuggle whilst you watched a film together. It was especially nice considering how it’d give Nat a chance to unwind a little, finally letting her actually rest. Not just saying shes resting then going about her day as usual like she’d normally do.

You settled onto the sofa, Natasha snuggling close, her head finding a comfortable spot in your lap. Gently, you began to massage her scalp, feeling the tension slowly dissipate under your touch. The soft glow of the TV illuminated the room as you scrolled through the movie options, eventually settling on Lion King, knowing it was one of her favourites.

The movie began to play in the background, but your all attention was on the peaceful expression settling across Nat's face.

“Oh my sleepy baby girl, again?” You whispered knowingly, recognising the way that her blinking began to slow, taking longer and longer for her to reopen her eyes, “Natty sweetheart, if you’re this tired do you not want to go up to bed? It’d be a lot comfy than sleeping on me my love.” You asked, your hand finding its way to her hair, gently massaging her head of red curls.

Your question fell on deaf ears however as Natasha had already given in and let herself fall back asleep. This wasn’t a problem of course, for now you’d be content to hold and watch over her as long as she needed.

･ﾟ:

By now you’d gotten used to Natasha’s sleeping patterns by now. It was an endearing habit by now. Still despite everything, she’d never complain or whine, always content just to fall asleep where she was.

You’d always reminded her that she only had to ask and you’d be more than happy to get cuddled up in her bed with, but she’d never found it in herself to ask.

Your favourite time it happened was only recently. You and Natasha were attending one of Stark’s galas, truthfully the pair of you didn’t really care much for them but Tony had insisted on everyones attendance so you’d both decided to dress up for the occasion.

Natasha looked stunning, her gorgeous curves being accentuated by a beautiful black dress. You were beyond proud to have her on your arm.

As you entered the grand ballroom, Nat's soft hand in your own, you couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for her. The way she carried herself with such confidence and grace never failed to captivate you.

The dim lights and elegant decor created the perfect backdrop for the event. As the gala continued the unfold, the two of you shared tales, whispered secrets, and effortlessly danced the night away. The drinks seemed to flow endlessly. Eventually you made the smart decision to switch to plain soda, meanwhile Natasha kept going.

Seeing her like this certainly wasn’t something you were used to. “I’m Russian, I can handle it.” This was her usual go to phrase when it came to drinking. You’d never seen her like this, spinning around your arms dizzily as a vodka-fuelled blush danced across her cheeks.

Despite her insistence that she was fine, you couldn't ignore the signs of her growing inebriation. Her once graceful dances turned into playful stumbles, and her words started to slur.

“Nooo, I’m fine, really, come, come dance with me.” Natasha smiled giddily, letting her hands flow over you and she span.

With a playful smile, she urged you to join her on the dance floor once again. As you twirled around together. The spinning and laughter continued until, inevitably, fatigue slowly began to creep in.

In the quiet moments between songs, she leaned on you, her eyes betraying the weariness beneath the intoxication.

You took this as sign to ease her away and you’d managed to get her settled in a small seating area away from the main floor. Now that she’d slowed down, she finally seemed to feel the effect of her drinks hit her. Her wide-pupils gazed up at the ceiling, adorably rambling off in incoherent babbles.

“Do you think we should get you to bed darling?” You smiled innocently, your hand slipping down her dress to rest against her slightly overheated skin.

She closed her eyes, still smiling up at you “Mm’ just fine here wi’ my favourite pilla’.”

“Your favourite ‘pilla’, hm baby?” You chuckled, shaking your head as she sleepily cuddled into your shoulder.

As Natasha drifted into a tipsy slumber, you couldn’t help but cradle her gently, even though this may not have been the most convenient of situations but you were certainly going to enjoy it.

･ﾟ:

Now all things eventually come to an end. Movies, books, and for the two of you, Nat’s little habit was about to be broken.

She’d come home late that night looking a look paler than usual, well, pale for Natasha’s standards anyway. When she’d left this morning her hair had been beautifully plaited, now her curls just hung loosely by her shoulders.

Nat shuffled into the living room where you’d been perched up with a book, kicking off her shoes and letting her bag fall to the floor as she came and nestled into your side.

“Long day?” You murmured softly, setting your book aside as you opened up the fluffy grey blanket you’d had previously draped over your knees to allow her to snuggle beneath it instead.

She simply nodded, biting back the urge to whine, “I hate those stupid meetings.” She grumbled, her voice holding the dragging weight of exhaustion.

Governor meetings were something every Avenger had to attend. They were painstakingly private about it meaning you were never allowed to accompany each other to them. The meetings varied a little from person to person but the main just of it was answering a long series of very repetitive questions and going through countless past missions and their details. Having to sit and listen as some fancy higher ups tried to pick you apart for every individual detail and mistake - and well, with Nat’s reputation of being constantly on Ross’s nerves, they weren’t going to go easy on her.

Nat rubbed her temples, a headache pounding behind her eyes. "And the fluorescent lights in that room... ugh, they're the worst," she added, wincing at the memory of the harsh glare. Her voice was a little raspy, most likely the result of having to constantly explain herself to idiots for the entire day.

You gently massaged her shoulders, feeling the tension in her muscles, “Do you want me to get you anything for that headache my sweet girl?” Your voice was kept low as your offered, not wanting to run the risk of making it any worse.

Your girlfriend sighed, leaning into your soothing touch. "Just some water would be nice," she replied, her eyes closing momentarily. After handing her a glass of water, you noticed her head nodding forwards slightly as she fought to stay awake.

"You look like you could use some rest," you suggested gently, anticipating her usual move to drift off to sleep on you whilst you stayed cuddled on the sofa.

But to your surprise, the redhead looked up at you with a faint, almost anxious smile. “Could you... carry me to bed?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, clear vulnerability thickening her tone.

You weren’t sure you’d heard her correctly at first. You asked her to repeat herself to which she barely mouthed her prior words. You were helpless to stop your heart from melting at her request, realising just how drained the poor thing must be feeling. "Of course, my dear," you replied tenderly, carefully scooping her up into your arms, cradling her close as you carefully made your way into your bedroom, “I told you Natty, I’ll always be here to take you to bed.”

There it was, the moment Nat had finally asked to actually go to bed for once. It was a long time coming and you’d loved being with her for every step of the way, even if it had involved her falling asleep in some pretty less-than normal places.

As you laid her down on the bed, Natasha snuggled into the pillows, a contented sigh escaping her lips. "Thank you," she murmured sleepily, her heavy eyes already drifting shut.

With a soft smile, you pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Anytime my love. Just close those eyes and get some rest, I'll be right here the whole time."

And right there you stayed, arms wrapped around her and the woman you loved slept against your chest in your shared bed. Finally she was getting the rest she deserved and there was nowhere else you’d ever want to be.

･ﾟ:*

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giannaln4 · 3 months

Text

Away For Valentine's

lando norris x fem reader

summary: McLaren had the fantastic idea to launch their car on Valentine's day, and as much as you reassured Lando he didn't have to worry about it, he still wanted to make it up to you (1k words)

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: heyy everyone! so this is the very first fic i'm posting so please let me know what you think! i'm honestly pretty excited to get started with this blog so hopefully you guys like what i write. anyway please send some ideas my way!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

Valentine’s Day was off the table this year, and so was everything you had planned for you and your boyfriend.

You were disappointed when he shared the news with you, but you couldn’t be mad at him, not when it wasn’t his fault.

He saw the disappointment in your face, and how much you were trying to hide it by just smiling and nodding, your head finding a spot on his shoulder to avoid eye contact. He appreciated you understanding the situation, like you always did, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel guilty.

“I know we had plans-”

“Lan, don’t worry about it” You took a deep breath before looking at him again, trying to get rid of the sadness in your face “I mean it, we can do that some other time”

He was about to say something but a quick kiss on the lips stopped him. You proceeded to look at him, offering him a small smile and a glance that he knew meant ‘I don’t wanna talk about it’, so just nodded as he smiled back.

A few weeks go by and his winter break was coming to an end, meaning soon he’d have to leave the comfort of your shared home and go get started with his preseason duties. That’s something you were used to, having to see him leave for long periods of times but it barely ever affected your relationship. He always made sure he made enough time for you, even when the time difference was huge and he was feeling tired most of the time, he needed to make time for you. Your love for each other was so strong that, at the end of the day, you were just relieved you still had each other even if all you had was a five minute call every day.

But still, sometimes it was hard to see him go, and this time was one of those times.

The night you knew would be your last one with him before he left he decided to take you out on a date. Fancy clothes and an even fancier restaurant were your plans for the evening, and you knew he was trying to make up for Valentine's Day. It wasn’t the same, of course it wasn’t, but you still enjoyed every second of it.

The food, the small talk, the jokes, the stupid stories, the shy glances, the small touches, everything was perfect, almost making you forget he was getting on a plane in a matter of hours, but your smile slowly faded as soon as you remembered.

The ride back home was quieter than he would’ve liked, but he knew exactly what was going through your mind, and honestly he couldn’t blame you cause his mind was flooded with the same thoughts.

As soon as you got home he ran around the car and opened the door for you, offering his hand and kissing yours as soon as he took it. You smiled softly at him and you made your way to the door. Once you were inside, you dropped his hand to take off your shoes and tossed them somewhere close to the door, sighing in relief as you started walking towards your room.

“Mhm, come back here” He whispered as he grabbed your hand and pulled you back into him

“There you are” Lando smiled softly at you as his lips found yours. After a moment he broke the kiss, and both of his hands found a better spot on your waist as he started to move along the off-tune song he started to hum. You couldn’t contain your smile, quickly trying to keep up with him. You moved together in a slow dance, it was like your bodies were in perfect harmony.

Lando was looking down at you in pure admiration, almost as if he was trying to memorize every centimeter of your face so he wouldn't forget it while he was away, but you didn’t dare to look up, scared you would make eye contact with Lando and you wouldn’t be able to take it, so you safe option was to rest your head on his chest and pray you didn’t mess up. Although it wouldn’t matter if you did, you were just in the comfort of your living room anyway. But you didn’t wanna mess up.

He eventually stopped humming, hoping the silence would encourage you to look at him, but when you didn’t he moved one of his hands to cup your check, making you look at him. For a moment your eyes lock, making the silence feel very loud and Lando couldn’t help but smile at you, and you immediately blushed, but tried to play it off.

“You’re a terrible dancer” He laughed and you narrowed your eyes playfully and softly hit his shoulder.

“You’re one to talk” You joked, locking your fingers behind his neck and giggling when Lando scoffed.

“Maybe we should go out to dance and I could show you all of my moves” He started to move again, bringing you closer to him.

“I thought you didn’t like slow dancing”

“I do if I get to hold you this close to me” He replied, once again finding your lips.

This time the kiss was longer, both of them savoring each other’s lips while they still had the chance “I’m sorry about Valentine’s” He whispered once he pulled away, your forehead resting on his.

You giggled at this. You had assured him a million times he didn’t have to worry about that, and he still apologized every time he remembered “You need to stop apologizing”

“But I am sorry”

“I know, but it’s not your fault” You hand fell on his hair, slowly stroking his soft curls “And I had a great time tonight, so I’d say love is not dead”

He laughed at his, dimples appearing as his eyes vanish for a moment “I still wanna make it up to you”

“You will” You replied as your head fell back on his chest “But for now I just wanna enjoy this” You closed your eyes and inhaled his scent, and after a moment of complete silence you can feel him start moving again, his soft hums interrupting the peace his heartbeat was giving you.

#giannaln4 writes #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris one shot #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader

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starkeysbaby · 10 months

Note

I just thought of Rafe with a sleepy gf reader who falls asleep anywhere anytime. His truck, midsummers, party’s, in the middle of a convo. Idk why but I love the concept

omg i absolutley LOVE this concept!

A/N: I APOLOGISE FOR LATE UPLOAD. I HAD MAJOR WRITERS BLOCK, BUT IM BACK NOW!

Sleepy Girl

pairing: rafe cameron x sleepy!reader [est. relationship]

warnings: none i think lol? [lemme know if you find any]

summary: numerous scenarios of when rafe cameron takes care of his sleepy girl

rafe cameron masterlist main masterlist

in his truck

It had been half an hour since you had told rafe that you were tired before ending the two hour long facetime call you two had been on. It had been half an hour of you trying to get to sleep. Despite being tired, you couldn't manage to fall asleep which was surprising for you as you'd usually be out within minutes after your head hit the pillows. After a few more minutes of struggling you decided to see if rafe was still awake.

*messages with rafe*

About ten minutes later you got a text from rafe saying he was outside. While he would usually come get you himself, at night you told him it'd be best if waits in the car so you guys don't wake your sleeping parents. "Hi beautiful" you heard him say as you got into rafe's truck and put your seatbelt on before he could ask you to. His free hand immediately found it's place on your thigh like it always did during your drives. "Hi, thanks for this" you blushed at his compliment from seconds ago. "Anything for you" he smiled as he started driving with no indication of where he was going. This wasn't the first time the two of you would go on drives when one of you was restless (almost always you) so as usual he would just drive around the obx until you both called it a night.

You continued on your drive having small, random, meaningless but interesting conversations as some random song quietly played through the speakers in the background. As you heard rafe talk about his new project with his dad at cameron development, you couldn't help but smile at him, feeling proud and happy at how much his relationship with his dad has improved and how his attitude towards life in general has changed for the better. The sound of his voice and his thumb rubbing against your thigh lulled you sleep causing rafe to gently pull over and place the blanket he kept in the back over you. He looked over at your sleepy form at a red light and couldn't help but to admire you "love you, my sleepy girl"

at parties (imagine this in a reality where kooks and pouges get along lol)

Kelce had thrown yet another end of school party despite it already being halfway into summer. The teens of the obx were always looking for an excuse to have houseparties, keggers, get togethers, you name it. If it had booze, drugs and people their age, they were down. Not that you were complaining though, you loved having a reason to get all dressed up and spend a night with your best friends and boyfriend. Although you were quite tired today and when vocalising this to rafe and your friends they all replied with something along the lines of "when aren't you". JJ in particular begged you to come and dared you to not fall asleep before 2 am. After a little persuasion and a bet formed between you and jj stating that the loser cleans the others car/bike for the next month, you were down.

At around 1:00 am you all (you, rafe, sarah, kie, cleo, john b, jj, pope, kelce, topper, barry and some other mutual friends) had found yourselves sitting on kelce's rather large balcony alternating between random convos and playing stupid party games such as truth or dare. You were sat in rafe's lap with his arms around you, one of his hands stroking your thigh whilst the other held a beer.

Feeling yourself grow tired you moved your face to bury it into rafe's chest almost forgetting about your bet with jj before you hear barry's voice booming. "YO THORNTON" causing jj to divert his attention away from a clingy kie "looks like mrs country clubs called it a night, pay up" you heard causing you to jolt your head up earning a groan from barry and a chuckle from jj and rafe. "Are you guys betting on me?" you asked putting two and two together. "Hey it's not just us, everyone is, even your boyfriend" jj pointed above you at rafe to get the blame off of himself.

This pulled whatever sleep you had in you away as you sat up and looked at rafe who had a sheepish smile on his face. "Explain" you said staring at rafe. "Well um-" he stuttered earning giggles from kelce and topper who rarely saw rafe at a loss for words "we all bet on who we think is gonna win the bet between you and jj" he explained. "Topper, kelce, john b, and cleo think you're gonna win and kie, barry, pope and sarah think jj's gonna win" he finished. "And you? who do you think is gonna win rafe?" you asked interested to hear his answer.

Some giggles from sarah and john b had you guessing you weren't going to like his answer. "well... baby you know i love you, but my money's on jj" he smiled down at you again with that sheepish smile. "really?" you laughed "you're betting against me?" you fake pouted, not really caring about something so silly. "Sorry baby" rafe laughed kissing your forehead. "Well imma stay up now just so i can see you lose" you smirked up at him "and so i don't have to clean jj's bike for the next month" you added on.

A while later you began to feel sleepy again as you drowned out the conversation between rafe and a few of the others. You looked up at rafe with sleepy eyes and he could swear that he'd never seen anything cuter. "Is it pass two?" you asked him in a pleading voice that had him send a quiet prayer to God that it had passed two so you could stop torturing yourself. He checked his watch, annoyed to see that it was 1:41 am meaning you couldnt sleep for another twenty minutes. Not having the heart to break it to you he just nodded causing you to bury your face into him as you layed against him, sleep immediately taking over you.

He bought his finger up to his lips and looked at everyone else with a death glare, a silent threat to everyone to not ruin it by telling you the actual time or else. He looked back at you sleeping then to jj who had a smirk on his face as he'd just won the bet. Little did jj know that there was no way on earth rafe was gonna let his girl wash jj's bike causing rafe to smirk to himself thinking of how he would deal with jj tomorrow, not caring how annoyed the blonde would get, you won't have to lift a finger. And that money he won from the other bet? He was already planning on how he was gonna take you out with that money and treat you the following day. "goodnight my pretty, sleepy girl" he whispered as he placed one final kiss into the top of your head before resuming his conversation with everyone else.

at midsummers

So far, midsummers had been everything you dreamt and more. You wore a stunning emerald green satin dress which complimented your skin tone and eye colour so beautifully. Your parents were so happy to see you with rafe enjoying midsummers remembering their own first midsummers together whilst the camerons wouldn't stop complimenting you. You had always been family to them being sarah's bestfriend since you both were three but they loved you even more after you started dating rafe.

The hours flew by as you danced with your parents, kie, sarah, wheezie, rafe and a few of your other friends. You even shared a dance with ward as he thanked you for bringing his son back to him. After a while you, kie and sarah went to grab a drink away from your parents hoping to get something alcoholic into your systems. After a while, not many people were left. Your parents had gone home without you once you told them you'd be staying at tannyhill with rafe and sarah tonight. You, kie and sarah were talking when you saw sarah roll her eyes at something behind you before feeling a pair of hands grab your waist. You turned you head to see rafe smiling at you pulling you away from sarah and kie leading you to the dance floor.

A slow song was playing as you both slowly danced to the music with your arms wrapped around his neck and your head was rested against his chest. Rafe's hands stayed at your waist and hips as he moved your body with his bringing his lips down to your ear "have i told you how beautiful you look tonight?" he whispered. This caused you to giggle "only about a milion times". He chuckled at that and you felt butterflies emerge in your stomach at the rumbles from his chest "well that's not enough, lets make it a million and one" he started before peppering some kisses into your hair "you look gorgeous princess" he finished with one final kiss. You smiled feeling nothing but comfort in that moment in that calm atmosphere "i love you" you whispered earning an "i love you more" from rafe. You continued to dance as you felt your eyes get heavier, sleep taking over you. Rafe also felt your body get heavier as you gave into the sleep leading him to gently carry you to his truck, "let's get you home my sleepy girl"

at a picnic date/mid convo

"oh my god rafe, this is so cute" you beamed at rafe as he took out a little picnic blanket and placed it over the grass "i know, you want some strawberries?" rafe smirked in a cocky tone, proud of himself for coming up with a successful date. "yes please" you said sitting down next to him. As soon as you sat down you felt rafe's arms pull you into his lap and before you could say anything to object, he stuffed a strawberry into your mouth.

You two proceeded to talk about many things going on in the obx particularly your night at midsummers just yesterday. With your head in rafes lap, you looked up at him whilst he sat upright against a tree peering down at you and mindlessly playing with your hair. When rafe started describing his favourite moments from midsummers, trying find a few pictures topper had managed to snap, he heard your hums get quieter and less frequent as the seconds passed. Shrugging his brows he moves his phone away so your face was no longer blocked, only to find you sleeping with a small smile on your face. He couldn't help chuckle, not only at the small bit of whipped cream on your nose, but also at how his sleepy girl had fallen asleep on yet another date. Slowy, he quietly snapped a picture of you before putting his phone to the side whilst dropping his head down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, bringing it back up as he continued to admire you.

This was a picture rafe loved.

An image he wanted imprinted in his mind.

His favouite sight.

"sleep well my sleepy girl"

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hotjaneaustenmenpoll · 29 days

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WHO IS THE HOTTEST JANE AUSTEN MAN ? THE FINAL

Propaganda...

Captain Wentworth (1995):

Ciaran Hinds has that perfect ruggedness yet friendliness to his face that makes him the perfect charming Wentworth. And all of the longing that he manages to convey in his eyes is so hot.

Wentworth may be angry/resentful with Anne but in general he is charming and the best friend you could ever have. Ciaran gets the pleasant parts of his character and brings them out, while keeping a guarded coolness (protective camouflage) with Anne.

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I dunno if this counts as propaganda or not, but Ciaran Hinds has a face that looks like it was jackhammered out of a shale cliff.

If a line like 'I am half agony...half hope' comes out of a face like that you know that man has a soul for poetry.

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in

F. W.

I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never.

This is propaganda for the next round because I need my boy to be a finalist! But this letter is all the persuasion I need to know that he is a winner

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Ciarán Hinds in this is a whole other level of "a good man" He makes Anne's decision at the end so much more perfect.

LOOK

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HOW

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YEARNS

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The yearning the yearning - JLM gives a great look but Captain Wentworth is the king of longing stares. He's trying sooo hard to hate her sooo hard to get over her - 8 years and he thinks he's ready to face her and move on but no he has to notice she's exhausted on the walk, that her nephew is being overwhelming, that she should be dancing and not just playing the piano for everyone else. And even though he's jealous later on when Mr Elliott gives her an "admiring look" in lime he's pleased for her because he knows she deserves to be admired and cherished even if he's angry that he wasn't able to be the one she let admire and cherish her. I just this man - he loves Anne so much and it's so so hot.

Propaganda for Captain Wentworth.

I've always loved Persuasion and so I was voting for him in his polls anyway, but I had never seen the 1995 adaptation. So because of this blog I decided to check it out.

Well. Now I'm obsessed. I came into this tournament fully expecting to vote Firth Darcy to victory. Ciaran Hinds suddenly showed up and sparta kicked him to curb. His every look, every gesture is laden with longing. He's so tender with Anne but then the barely restrained rage in his voice when he speaks to Lady Russell. He's rugged and manly yet tender and considerate.

I BURN, I PINE, I PERISH

If you're wondering why you should vote for Wentworth 95 in the @hotjaneaustenmenpoll, it's because he's got something hot for everyone.

Do you think it's hot when a man dresses up fancy? He looks very dapper in his uniform! Or do you find it more sexy when a man is more casual, a little mussed up, maybe even a little grimy? He does that perfectly too!

Do you find men hot when they're being tender and restrained? Or do you find men hot when they're losing control a bit, maybe getting a bit passionate with anger or jealousy?

Do you like a refined man of culture? Or a rugged outdoorsman?

A warm smile? Or something more broody?

Someone who's the life of the party, boisterous, laughing, charming? Or the strong silent type, serious, calm, mysterious?

Hinds's Wentworth does all of these sexy things brilliantly! You cannot lose with him, he's got it all!

II ranked Wentworth as the #1 Austen man in terms of fuckability, and I stand behind that when it comes to Wentworth 95 versus Knightley 09.

Is Wentworth 95 angry sometimes? Yeah. But that's hot, at least coming from Ciaran Hinds' ruggedly handsome face. Have you heard of makeup sex? Tell me Wentworth 95 and Anne don't have the most scorching hot angry makeup sex imaginable 🥵

And yet Wentworth 95 is also super tender! The slow, gentle, worshipful way he kisses Anne at the end?? So beautiful and hot. The longing way he looks at Anne in silence. The way he is so solicitous of Anne's comfort to put her on the carriage with his sister! You can just tell he's gonna take the time to worship his wife in bed.

And let's not forget that he writes the most romantic letter ever written! The depth of passion in this man, my god! 🔥💕🔥

This is not a who is the better man contest, or who is the more faithful to the book, or who would you most want to marry. This is a hotness contest, and Wentworth 95 is so fucking hot.

Mr Darcy (1995):

Colin Firth (1995) is book Darcy brought to life. He uses tiny gestures and looks to communicate with us and Elizabeth… his struggle is so subtle but so palpable. A beautiful asshole with a creamy nougat center. Just perfect.

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Those heart-eyes right up above☝️? Hot!

Passive-agressively drinking tea? Hot!

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The way he rushes over to see Elizabeth at Pemberley on those delicious long legs of his with that slutty wet curl hanging over his forehead? Hot!

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Fencing? Hot!

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The way he is so concerned about Elizabeth crying and takes her hand even though he shouldn't? Hot!

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This dimple-y smile of pure joy because he knows he's married to Elizabeth freaking Bennet? Hot!

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Colin Firth Darcy is simultaneously immaculately put together and entirely falling apart internally. The wet shirt scene is so iconic not (only) because ‘oooh almost-shirtless sexy man’, but because it’s a metaphor for how he’s absolutely falling apart!!! This is a private moment, when he doesn’t think anyone can see him. And then he bumps. into. Lizzie. At his house!! And the entire sequence that follows with him rushing out still doing his jacket up to catch her before he leaves. They are both on the back foot and it’s THAT moment of confusion that opens a more honest dialogue between them.

Without Firth in a lake you wouldn’t get Macfadyen in a downpour!

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There's a reason why Colin Firth is forever known as Mr. Darcy above all other roles he's had and will have! Even ignoring the wet white shirt, which has become A Thing now, he is so hot with his curly hair and his little half smiles and his intense looks of longing and his legs that go on for milessss.

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This cannot be real. My fellow Jane Austen people. Without Colin Firth’s Darcy we wouldn’t have 90% of modern JA content. He opened a door and there was no turning back for modern culture. There would be no MacFadyen standing half undressed in a field at dawn without Firth jumping into a lake first. There would be no hand flex if there hadn’t been Firth doing his best impression of a man undressing Elizabeth Bennet with his eyes and hating himself for liking it. There would be no Bridgerton without Bridget Jones. Let’s face it people. We wouldn’t be here having these arguments if Colin Firth had not been Mr Darcy.

Colin Firth understood Mr. Darcy in a way no other actor ever has. He is awkward as fuck in a way that comes across as snooty and judgmental on a first watch-through, then can be read as awkward and longing on a second time. His performance had such depth while looking extremely shallow at first glance. This man WAS Mr. Darcy. (I love 2005, as well, and I love Matthew McFayden, but he was awkward for awkward sake.) Colin Firth made Darcy's awkward look snooty and aloof.

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THE socially awkward Darcy is the 1995 Darcy - look at him coming and sitting in awkward silence with Elizabeth pointedly asking her if she wants to live a long way from her family (to obvious relief) and then abruptly leaving - vote for him please 😭😭😭😭

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Colin Firth served so much as Darcy that when they did Bridget Jone's diary, they brought him back.... AS DARCY. The smoulder. The angst. The man is the quintessential Darcy.

“Firthing” is an actual term that is used now to describe someone yearning intensely. It is named after Colin Firth’s Mr Darcy performance.

Colin Firth all the way. He's known in our household as Owl Eyes because in every frame he's mooning over Elizabeth Bennet. Unsurpassable, unmatched, golden television (and some of the worst dancing you've ever seen).

Colin has beautiful, touchable curls.

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My high school English teacher was very into using movies to teach alongside literature, which was a great teaching tool. When we read Pride and Prejudice, he used both 2005 and 1995 for various scenes. What stands out to me all these years later was when it got to the part when Lizzy went to help Georgiana after Caroline dropped Mr. Wickham's name and Darcy gives Lizzy this look:

My teacher stopped the film and pointed at Darcy's face and said, "See that? That is THE look. If someone ever looks at you like that, you know they're in love." And what is hotter than that?

Also this teacher had two cats named Lizzy and Darcy. Not relevant to the poll but I wanted you all to know about them.

Colin Firth dazzles and amazes in the nuanced performance that just blows all other attempts away.

The best thing about the Colin Firth wet shirt scene is actually the scene that follows where him and Lizzie are both just dyinggg of embarrassment but Darcy pulls himself together refuses to lose his advantage and runs to get dressed and chase her down before she leaves - just the mix of cringe and hopefulness at seeing her again is so well done and so attractive!!! (this is just the bit where he's running after her but I love it all!)

#hotjaneaustenmenpoll #the final #take two (SORRY)#captain wentworth #mr darcy #persuasion 1995 #pride and prejudice 1995 #ciaran hinds #colin firth #persuasion #pride and prejudice #jane austen #frederick wentworth #fitzwilliam darcy #Youtube

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makeyoumine69 · 8 months

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Morning sex with Patrick | NSFW HEADCANON

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— A/N: That was very sudden, but I hope you like it. Many thanks to @sleeplessphantom for inspiration and @optional for the amazing gifs!😍

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [buy me a coffee]💓

It was no secret that Patrick's sex drive was quite high, so even if he fucked you before you went to sleep, it didn't mean he wouldn't fuck you again in the morning. Especially if you acted like a brat all day.

If Bateman woke up early, you were already in trouble, because his big palms would find their way under your clothes before you could even notice. Inch by inch he would explore your tender skin, enjoying the way your body would react to his small, innocent touches, making his cock harder than ever.

Patrick would play with your breasts, rolling your taut nipples between his skillful fingers as he turned on his side, pulling you closer to his body so you could not escape what was to come. Elated, Bateman would greedily take your little tip in his mouth, closing his eyes in sweet pleasure as you knit your beautiful eyebrows, by this time you would be so fucking wet and he would make sure to check it.

"Mmmhm," you mewled as you felt his hot breath on your belly as he descended upon you. "Pat… Patty!"

"Yes, babydoll," he growled back in a raspy voice, kissing your inner thigh as he caressed another. "I'm here and I'm gonna make you feel so fucking good."

Slowly you opened your eyes to see the sun reflecting off his beautiful hair, giving it a golden hue, while Bateman was already settling between your legs.

The burning sensation of his hot tongue on your sensitive clit made you almost bite the pillow — every time he did it felt like the first time, it was overwhelming and astonishing because he knew what he was doing. He always did.

"Aww—Daddy," you arched your back and buckled your legs up to his face as he lapped at your juicy pussy, holding you wide open for his thirsty mouth. "So good, it f-feels so good!"

Throwing your head back, you crumpled the blankets underneath you from the pulsating tension in your lower belly as Patrick was literally devouring your warm body, not forgetting to make lewd noises that drove you crazy. But as soon as he felt you begin to convulse, he stopped everything and pulled away from your heated slit, forcing a sad gasp from your rapidly breathing chest.

"Patrick?" You leaned up on your elbows to look down at him, but at the same moment he deftly grabbed your hand to wrap it around his engorged length. With each stroke, Bateman's panting grew louder and soon he was closing his eyes in pleasure, tilting his head and letting go of your hand as he allowed you to take control of the pace.

"Such a good little girl," he groaned passionately before lying down next to you and placing his hand where his mouth had been a few minutes ago. "Today I wanna see you bouncing on my cock."

His words, along with the circular rubbing movements around your swollen bud, made you whimper and encouraged you to jerk him faster. For a brief moment, the two of you would look into each other's eyes, blurry with intoxicating desire, as your hands were giving too much pleasure by playing with needy, hot flesh.

Soon you would be hopping on top of him, wailing pitifully as his beefy dick rammed into you from below, his firm hips giving you no rest.

"Daddy! You're s-so big!" Shaking, you cried out with your eyes closed as his strong arms pinned you down on his thick cock, slapping your ass from time to time when you dared to slow down just a tiny bit.

"Argh—yeah, just like that," he praised you, admiring the view of your bouncing breasts as you did your best to ride him hard, no matter how painful it was for your little hole - his veiny shaft tore you from the inside. "Use my cock... mhmm... use my cock like a dirty slut you are!"

Whimpering, you leaned on his buffed torso, speeding up and letting yourself get lost in the fire of passion, the curve of his dick hitting all the right spots and the angle of penetration was so sick — you had no choice but to cum hard around him, squeezing his pulsating cock so vividly.

"Mmhm! I'm so... SO CLOSE... AWW!"

"Jeez, your greedy pussy is clinging to me so fucking tight!" Bateman grunted, forcing you to sprawl across his chest as he fucked you senselessly, his strong arms giving you no chance to move.

You fell over the edge, feeling the waves of pleasure hit every part of your body like an electric shock. Patrick had to thrust harder to break through the grip of your pussy, soon he would join you in the ocean of bliss, spending his warm seed in your womb until it began to flow down.

And only after some time, when you both had recovered your breath, would Bateman cradle your face and bring you closer to kiss you gently on the lips, murmuring: "That's what I call a 'good morning.'"

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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lovelyverosika · 3 months

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The winner takes it all…the loser has to fall

Hazbin Hotel! Adam x Fem!reader

Part 2 —> Part 1

Warnings: suicide & death

A/N: I wanted to say thank you for all the love on my first fanfic<3 Tbh I never planned a part two since I didn’t expect people to actually enjoy it and I lack of motivation but the support changed it. Also I finished it earlier than expected :) As before I’m sorry for any grammar mistakes. I hope you enjoy it!

3rd POV

All eyes on her, that was the situation she found herself in now. Under normal circumstances she would feel extremely happy. Getting noticed and seen has always been her dream but this was more a nightmare than a dream. Looks of confusion and hatred hit her as soon as she looked around. Humiliation was what she was feeling right now, a feeling she knew very well.

She didn’t even dare to look behind her, scared to face her husband and his reaction but she could feel Lutes stare full of hatred piercing through her body as if she was a sinner on Extermination day. Ironic isn’t it? Back then in hell this day filled her with pure despair. All that blood and screams made her cry every year. Y/N hated her days in hell even more than her days when she was alive. She got out of her trance as she heard Monika laughing from above her. As she looked up she found herself in a familiar situation:

Kneeling on the floor with tears streaming down her cheeks while someone looked down at her. Monika snipped with her fingers,making a picture of Y/N appear. Instead of the optimistic angel shining with happiness everyone could see a demon full of tiredness and sadness in her eyes. "You might wonder how I found out..well for those who knew her from her living days it isn’t rocket science that she killed herself. And we all know suicide is a sin.", Monika laughed as she looks down at Y/N and then at the other angels ,which whisper to each other in the courtroom. Y/N didn’t even noticed that Emily was hugging her,she was too lost in her own mind.

-Flashback-

Y/N was someone people would call a "trophy child", polite,smart and full of happiness,that changed as soon as she hit puberty. She started seeing imperfections she never noticed before, things she loved got boring and her grades were falling. In other words she burned out and lost motivation for basically everything. The only thing she didn’t gave up was dancing, for years she worked really hard for her dream to come true. She wanted to be a star, who can make people happy with her performances and be admired.

At the age of 21 she was faced with the fact that hard work is nothing compared to natural talent. The first time in 6 years she was supposed to be the main star of the show. But that would’ve been too good to be true. On the day of her performance they told her, they founded someone better…a natural talented girl named Monika. She was beautiful like a swan but her personality was rotten..wasted potential in Y/N’s eyes.

"Not everyone is born to be a star.", Monika said while looking down at the woman, who kneeled before her obviously crying. Blinded by rage and envy Y/N interrupted Monikas show,dancing with elegance and grace while Monika acted as if it’s supposed to be happen.

Y/N smiled at the audience as she continued to dance,. "Thank you all so much for your support but I am afraid that was my last show", she spoke as tears run down her cheeks. She thought about it often..just quitting everything including her life. She’s been working so hard her whole life for nothing. It was no secret that she had a fragil heart, being sensitive made her life twice as hard as it was. She couldn’t take it anymore, so she threw the axe she hid into the air right above her. She wanted to leave with an impact no one will forget. Her last words were "Thank you" as the axe hits her as she bowed.

Everyone was shocked especially Monika who stood next to her now lifeless body. Tragic isn’t it? But at least she had the impact she wanted happening,right? She was now know as "The dying swan".

It was too late when she realised that suicide wasn’t and never be the solution and that she wasted her previous life.

With her soul tainted by envy and sin she found herself now in Hell, a place ten times worse than earth.

It was hard but she survived, she found friends who shared a similar fate. Together they helped demons in need for 3 years. On the 4th yearly extermination everything changed. Y/N loved her friends dearly, so seeing one of her friends nearly getting killed by an angel made her act without thinking. Wanting her friend to live she threw herself in front of them. It was painful as the spear pierced right through her heart but it was worth it, after all she protected her friend, didn’t she?

With a smile on her face she made peace with the fact that she’ll die for a second time. What she didn’t expect was that she found herself waking up again, this time in heaven.

It wasn’t long until she befriended a seraphim called Emily, she was such a bundle of joy, which made Y/N feel better in no time.

How she caught the eye of the first man on earth and soul in heaven was a mystery to her but what she knew was that she despised him. He was cocky, rude and so full of himself and the sugar on the cream were the nicknames he gave her…"mini tits" and "sugar tits".

Because of their work they spent more time together and got to know each other. She got used to his antics and behaviour and started to enjoy his company, compared to others he was very nice and respectful to her. It wasn’t long until she fell in love with him. She realised it for the first time when he was actually starting to respect women in general. Respect for women was very important to her and seeing people change for the better out of their own will was something she cherished.

One year later, they started dating and Adam was surprisingly loyal and clingy,she didn’t mind it one bit. He brought light into her small and pathetic life and she cleansed him like a waterfall. All her anger, sadness disappeared while he was not used to all this love. Everyone in heaven knew they were totally smitten with each other. After another year she married him and they lived a happy life in heaven until now.

-Flashback ends-

Y/N buried her head onto Emily’s chest, not wanting to be seen in such a state. Everything was blurry and the voices muffled, all she could hear was her own heart beat loud and clear.

Adam didn’t know what to feel, his wife used to be a demon. Was he supposed to be angry, sad or disappointed, he didn’t know. She promised him to stay with him forever, she promised not to leave him like Lilith and Eve did. He knew that weren’t sweet lies, she was the first one to actually accept him as a whole, so why shouldn’t he accept her either. Sinner or not she was still his sweet and loving wife. The last thing Y/N saw before fainting was Adam standing in front of Monika.

Part 3

#hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #x reader

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 1 year

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Dark!Aemond Targaryen: Size Difference

Pairing: Dark Aemond Targaryen x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

WARNINGS: Short reader; Non-con; Forced Breeding; Forced Pregnancy.

AN: I got inspired to write this out of nowhere. Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Aemond is absolutely infatuated with the way he towers over you. How the top of your head is barely able to reach his shoulder. How small and powerless you appear next to him.

It fills him with flaming desire and possessiveness to see your small delicate figure next to his robust one. The things he could do to you, if only you were married already.

He never skips the chance to ask your hand for one (or too many) dances, admiring the way his large hand envelopes your smaller one entirely and he can’t stop imagining how one single hand of his could cover your entire breast. The way you have to tilt your head upwards to be able to face him.

The fact that he’s enamored by you isn’t missed by the court. Rumors and gossip of the young and fierce prince having fallen for you. Your parent’s are overjoyed when a marriage proposal comes for you and even though you're not certain about Aemond, you bow your head and accept your duty.

Once you’re officially betrothed, Aemon will be much less careful when it comes to letting you know about his obsession for you. He’s always around you, continuously requesting your presence in the library to spend time together or summoning you for some supper together.

His hand will linger around the small of your back for more time than appropriate as he guides you through the extensive gardens for a morning walk. His hands enveloping your neck as he presents you with a diamond necklace.

If it’s a social event, Aemond will remain fixed by your side, a cold expression on his face as people approach you to speak. He doesn’t allow any man to ask your hand to dance, his eye squinting with annoyance if they dare to talk to you.

Aemond swears that the day of your wedding is the most marvelous day he’s lived. Even though you hold a solemn expression, Aemond still adoringly gazes at you, your delicate figure on the gorgeous white dress making his cock painfully ache for you.

That night, he’ll let out all of the filthy fantasies he’s been dreaming about.

As soon as you get to your private chambers, Aemond is quick to rip you out of the dress, shocking you to say the least. He swallows all of your protests with an intense kiss, easily holding you down on the bed with his hands intertwining your own on each side of your head.

It’s a struggle to fit his wide cock inside your tiny pussy and your wails of pain are more than enough to prove that, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop.

You’re so tight around his cock that Aemond can’t pull away from you. He fucks you with rough thrusts that make the bed quiver, his hips continuously hitting you with immense force, causing shaken wails from you.

He forgets about your pain, focusing on his own pleasure as he keeps thrusting you with long, deep strokes. His face close to your tear stained one, features contorted by pain as your new husband doesn’t seem to stop any time soon.

Aemond is restless, fucking you several times over the course of the night, even though you’re sore and tired. You’re not strong enough to stop him and he won’t cave in. He fills you over and over again until he’s sure you’ve taken his seed, his babe growing inside you.

In the morning, the maids are surprised to find you in a miserable state, dark bags and red eyes with the bed in a complete mess. But the way your inner thighs are covered in Aemond’s cum is more than enough to say everything.

Needless to say that your wedding night won’t be the last, Aemond’s insatiable when it comes to having you. He can easily bend you down, forcing you into any position he wants as you’re no match for him. He peppers you in kisses, muttering sweet words as he fucks you desperately.

Soon, you’re with child and Aemond is more in love with you than ever. It’s a dream for him, seeing you getting so big and fragile with his child growing inside you. That’s something he intends to keep doing for as long as you can give him babes.

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abbysdruidess · 10 months

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you ever see those tiktoks of ppl making to-go meals for their wives working at hospitals? i wanna do that for abby so badly 🥺 (i've seen some hcs of her being an orthopaedic surgeon and I think thats real af)

thank you for this anon<3 I was kind of in a writers block so this helped s a lot-send me more asks about my babygirl, my delightful wife.

l̳u̳n̳c̳h̳ ̳o̳f̳ ̳c̳h̳a̳m̳p̳i̳o̳n̳s̳ | modern au smut

wc: 1.3k (my longest!!)

tags: fluff, smut, domesticity, reader gets head for cooking for her wife(not that she wasn't getting it anyway), Abby eats it the whole damn thing on the kitchen counter

a/n: this is in the form of headcanons with a smut drabble in the end-lmk what you guys think<33

❦ I feel like in a modern au Abs would definitely choose a field that requires a lot of hard work(cause in the game also she overworked herself), so she's either a doctor or a construction worker(;)). I feel like she wouldn't want to choose to be a neurosurgeon like her father, bc as much as she admires his work, she doesn't want to be compared to him and she grew up with it, she wants something different. So her going into orthopaedics seems pretty reasonable.

❦ As for the lunch thing, I could totally see you making her lil lunches<3 She is careful about what she eats cause she wants maintain her muscled appearance, so she doesn't really go for the cafeteria food. Therefore, you make a habit of cooking food for the wife™️ every day. I imagine you getting one of these cute bento boxes and cook her some chicken, rice and salad the night before and set it up all cute<3

❦She'd always love it when you cook her food from your culture/country of origin also🥺because baby loved everything about you and wants to feel closer to you any chance she gets. In my country there's a lot of emphasis on fresh, unprocessed food so I imagine you growing a little garden outside your kitchen with fruits and vegetables, the works.

❦ Don't forget about dessert also-cooking a big tray of something like brownies or a batch of cookies on Sunday nights and put in on her lunch box with a note that goes like "finish your vegetables before you devour dessert!" or "eat lunch first, dear<3" . Bonus points if you kiss the note and get lipstick all over it.

❦ Maybe a coworker of hers notices one day(probably Manny cause he's the only one able to confront her about it) and goes up to her with a shit eating grin while she's eating it like "Damn doc, maybe that wife of yours can cook me up a lunch or too like yours sometime. She forgot to draw a heart on your brownies though." And normally if it was someone else she'd be pretty pissed off, because HOW DARE THEY mock the lunch her amazing, breathtaking wife worked so hard to make. But it's Manny so she knows he's just fucking around. SO Abby's like "Oh shut up Manny. You're just wish you had a girl who wants to make you lunch every day."

❦And truthfully she's extremely grateful for it, it's one of those things that reminds her why she married you, you care for her so much and cooking for her shows you look after her in one of the most vital, intimate ways possible. In the end of the week, once she comes home from work and sees you cleaning dishes in the sink, she walks up to you, leaving her little lunch box on the counter and wraps her big, beefy arms around you, while she whispers in your ear.

"I didn't thank you for lunch this week. I loved the cookies a lot.", and you can feel her breath slightly tickling your ear, the pads of her fingers toying with the hem of your shirt.

"It's alright Abs, I like making you food. You need to stay fit, big girl.", you respond, while you turn around and run your hands down her biceps.

"Hmm, thank you so much for caring about my health babe, or maybe you just like that your wife is packing such heavy guns under her shirt, huh?" she teases. You can't deny though, you love her figure. You can feel her hands on your hips as she tenderly lifts you on the counter, and you sigh happily.

"Yes Abby" you roll your eyes. "I'm soo thankful I have such a strong wife. It is quite beneficial at times.". Your hands ride up her shirt, cupping her firm, silken breasts. She exhales all wobbly, you know how sensitive her breasts are. But you know your little game won't last long.

She doesn't respond, just leans her face into yours so your noses bump and smiles. She quickly makes light work of your shirt, tossing it on the floor and goes for the button in your jeans next, as you help her by raising your hips off the counter. In one flawless motion, she has removed both your jeans and underwear, tossing them off with your shirt. Once the bare skin of your ass makes contact with the marble of the counter you shiver, and Abby brings her girthy palms to rest under your buttocks, warming up the skin there and slightly groping it.

"Lemme thank you for lunch. You are always so good to me. My pretty, little wife". She raises one of her hands and gently runs her pointer finger where your folds part, making you gasp. Your hands reach to her behind and cup her firm ass. "Alright." you whisper into her ear, as your eyes roll in the back of your head.

She then kisses a line from your jaw to your belly button, leaving sloppy, open mouth kisses where the drool from her mouth remains visible on your skin. You could only wish it would imprint on it, immortalising Abby's passionate mouth loving on your body. You shudder as you feel her delicately kissing your pussy, rubbing her tongue on your feminine lips as if she was making out with them. Her tongue teases the sensitive flesh, as the nerves in the most sensitive part of your body are abused by this wonderful, wonderful woman. You let out small, staccato moans, and your hands reach the flesh of your breasts, cupping them and toying with them deliciously. Abby continues the barrage on your cunt, licking up your clit as the room is filled with the sloppy sounds of sopping flesh.

You sit there, helpless but to take it, as you feel the coil inside you tightening up from the lovely tongue of your wife. You suddenly feels as though a band has snapped, and you are overcome with heavenly, internal bliss as your orgasm washes over you like a wave. Abby guides you through it, leaving soft kissing on your cunt and whispering "That's it baby, come like a good girl". Once it stops, you can feel her rising up to kiss you, her tongue rubbing yours in small circles as she lets you taste your salty tang.

"Mmm" you let out a soft giggle. "I'm so grateful I have such a caring attentive wife.", and she makes you gasp as she her fingers come up to your sensitive folds, dipping her hands into your hole and spreading your juices all over your inner thighs. You let out soft moans at the overstimulation but allow her to continue the assault on your cunt nonetheless, as she thumbs you clit gently, watching it twitch in between your legs.

"Damn right you are, baby. Wanna take this to the bedroom?" She leans into you and leaves a kiss on your ear lobe. "I'm not through with you yet." you don't reply just yet, because you know she still wants to have a go at you, and she will no matter what. You grumble a small yes at her as she picks you up bridal style and moves you to the bedroom, kicking your discarded clothes out of her way.

What could she say? Abby lives to please you, and you live to please her. And both of you are thankful for having each other to help whenever, whether that is with lunch and everything the other person needs.

whoaah, who wrote that🤔anyways, lmk what you guys think of it and ofc send me more asks abt Abby<33

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby the last of us #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby tlou #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fluff #abby x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson headcanons

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