#idk where this is from it was in my camera roll | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cordeliawhohung · 8 hours

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Going off of him calling reader his wife, Ps! Gaz whose highest rated video with his favorite girl is a "Honeymoon" night concept where it's basically a really romantic lovemaking video.

Their natural chemistry is perfect and the romance feels real; they even joke around a little and take things slow.

And that vid is what confirms for the fans that there's something going on between them that goes beyond the cameras.

- 🦴

part 237423849 of kore writing a drabble/one shot when she probably shouldn't have. not edited because my brain is fried? idk save me, pornstar!gaz, save me

It's late into the night when your phone screen illuminates your face.

A sleepless night quickly plagues you with a wandering mind that won't let go of the images that still haunt you from your last shoot with Kyle. The two of you have filmed countless times together, but there's something about this most recent one that refuses to let go of your mind. It overwhelms you so much that you've got your studio's porn site on your phone at nearly one in the morning.

Usually, you hate watching the videos you perform in. It crosses an odd sort of boundary in your mind that makes you feel disgusted with yourself, but you can't help but watch the one you filmed with Kyle titled "Honeymoon Getaway." Before the video even starts, you notice the ratings. Tens of thousands of people have watched the video already, and it was only edited and published five days ago. The ratings are all positive, thousands of thumbs ups and bookmarks.

Your teeth sink into your lip once the video starts. Both you and Kyle are dressed in your "wedding" attire; a well fitted suit with the jacket removed for him, and a white slip that covers your bridal lingerie for you. It's... sensual. The way he kisses you. And really fucking weird watching it from a third person perspective. You vividly remember his breath against your face and the way his hand caressed your cheek, but it's not what you're looking for, so you skip ahead.

When the video loads the next portion, Kyle's face is buried in your cunt. The angle they filmed it at is nothing compared to the view you had in real life. The way he kissed the side of your knee, keeping eye contact with you for as long as he could as he kissed all the way down your thigh until his tongue was on your clit… it’s a sensation that ghosts along the inside of your legs even as you lay there in bed.

But the video? Fuck, it’s terrible. Focusing more on the side view, obscuring his pretty face with your thigh. At this point, you’re ready to take the camera and film everything from a first person point of view next time you film with Kyle.

But that’s besides the point. You’re looking for something else.

Once again, you skip ahead and the sound of your laughter emanates from the speakers on your phone. Kyle, who had been hovering over your body, had quickly rolled you on top of him, switching your spots. It was done so effortlessly, and you try your best not to gawk at the way his muscles flex as you straddle him.

"Kyle," your voice whines over the speakers.

"Better view this way," is all he responds.

You hate it. Hate the way he makes your stomach churn just from a video alone. It almost churns worse than it did when you were really filming with him, pretending to be love-struck newlyweds fucking one another in an expensive hotel room.

You skip forward again, a significant distance this time, and Kyle has you pinned to the bed on your back. With his hands underneath your knees, you're nearly kissing them as he ruts into you. You try not to pay too much attention as the camera pans to a view of your cunt sucking him in like the good little wife you pretended to be.

Luckily, you're not stuck watching it for too long before the film shoots over Kyle's shoulders, showcasing the way your tits bounce at his relentless pace. You grimace when they zoom in, but it's not much longer before you finally find what you were searching for.

"My sweet wife. I love you so fuckin' much."

You sit up straight the moment you find it, and your fingers are scrambling to rewind so you can hear him again. The breathlessness of his voice, the lilt in his tone. It feels like gold on your ears, yet it has your heart shredding into pieces in your chest. It feels real. Too real.

But it can't last forever.

You pause the video, ceasing the sound of your moans and Kyle's fake confession. Everything spins around you when you look up from the screen and at the darkness of your room. Lonely. So fucking lonely and cold. You shake your head as you look back at your phone, and you decide to make the terrible mistake of sleuthing through the comments.

The idea of it all, was finding something that would turn you off so that you could forget it all and go back to sleep. And there were plenty of disgusting comments:

>> need a submissive wife like this

>> great tits

>> too soft with her. you need to learn to put your bitch in place the first night.

It should have been enough. You should have stopped there, but you don't. You can't stop scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling. It's a vicious cycle that you can't stop, and you're stuck reading every single comment and speculation from anyone who still had living brain cells after jerking off to your video. Each and every one of them destroy you more than the last:

>> I feel like i'm ruining a special moment lmao

>> there's no way these two aren't together irl what the fuck

>> can't wait to see these two on OF together when they realize they don't want to fuck anyone else lol

>> nah, they really snuck in a whole crew on their actual honeymoon that's dedication

>> he sounds like he's about to cry when he says he loves her

You shut your phone off and fight the urge to toss it across the room as you slam yourself back against your mattress. All you want to do is sleep but your chest aches so furiously that it's all you can focus on. Everything feels so real with Kyle, and it's not fair that he's always out of your grasp. Always teasing you with the promise of fucking you off camera, of looking at you like you're the only woman in the world.

A tremble begins in your bottom lip as you shove your face into your pillow. Kyle Garrick is going to be the death of you, you're sure of it. Judging by the tears that soak your pillow that night, you know it's not going to be a kind death, either.

#pornstar!gaz #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #gaz smut #kyle garrick smut #gaz x reader smut #kyle garrick x reader smut #kyle gaz garrick x reader #f!reader #🦴 anon

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coffeishowifunction · 8 months

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#idk where this is from it was in my camera roll #rob james collier #allen leech #downton abbey #downton abbey cast

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ascendingtostardust · 1 year

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Okay but look

#I’ve been having a breakdown over this for the last 48 hours #it’s been sitting deep in my camera roll idk where it came from #but there’s a lot happening #jake kiszka #gvf

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august-undergrounds · 5 months

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#haunted ass photo from the depths of my camera roll #idk where this even is i don’t remember shit

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hyperfixated-maybe · 6 months

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O i am lost

octo-tober day 18: lost

Liberty Biberty

this is the original meme

#octonauts #octonauts fanart #octo-tober #captain barnacles #dashi octonauts #dashi #dashi dog #octo tober #octonauts captain barnacles #The image is from some other tumblr post but was saved to my camera roll idk where the original post is #Hyperocto

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f1reacts · 1 month

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#yuki tsunoda #RB #alpha tauri #my cat is not letting me finish my uni work so have some existential yuki #also anyone knows who emperoryukii is?#i have this saved but i can’t find them on any platform #so idk where it came from #this is a reminder to let me know to credit you on your edits in case i got any from tumblr #sometimes i go through my camera roll and idk if i did an edit or if it was someone else #since i mostly use the pics on messages and to make whatsapp stickers lmao

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dragons-and-yellow-roses · 3 months

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Oh god.

This summer you sent our mutual friend a package, to get to me. An heirloom, a bit of camp history. Passed down to me.

And on that package, your phone number and address. Your phone number, that I had long deleted from my phone because the urge to call you was always too strong.

When I last saw you in person, you said that when you finally moved to the city it would be with your girlfriend. You would move in together. And surely, she would become your fiancee and then your wife.

There it is. On the package. Your new address, in the city.

I have to keep myself from calling you right now. You probably have my number blocked, and I truly don't know what I'd do if you answered. But I would give anything to hear your voice again.

Even if it's just you saying, "Hello? Who is this?" While her voice is in the background, asking you what you want for dinner.

At this point, I don't even need to be the voice in the background asking what you want for dinner.

I just wish I could be the voice on the other end of your phone call.

#idk if this made sense. its 4am #but storytime i guess #years ago. like four now. i had a best friend #i loved her so much. truly i was in love with her. which was the problem #she had a girlfriend. im sure you can guess where this is going #she cheated on her gf with me. i felt guilty and made her tell her gf. months later but better late than never i guess #her gf made her choose between us. understandable. she chose her gf. understandable #so i got a call one night from her. where she said we could never speak again. we couldnt be in each others lives. and i deserved that #it still killed me though. it still kills me. i havent recovered #but this past summer she sent a package to our mutual friend. for me #just something from the camp we both work at. and there on the package was her phone number and address #two years after she left me she volunteered at the camp i worked at and she used to woek at #we ended up talking. and being friends for that one last week. and she mentioned that she wanted to marry her gf #and move in with her. in the city. so when i saw her city address... yeah #i took a picture of her number and address before throwing away the package. something i remembered tonight #its just sitting in my camera roll. her number and address #and i could never call her. never send her a letter #idk what the point of this storytime was #but this is some half decent writing for 4am #i hope you enjoyed

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frogmanfae · 9 months

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Spot Conlon

#newsies #spot conlon #i found this in my camera roll #idk where it came from #I'm right tho

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digyalikeatomb · 5 months

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ok so we all know adrian is a social worker. but what does jim do?? what career is suitable for someone who pleaded guilty for starting a cult in his small town of (presumably) less than 5,000 people?

i personally would like to raise my amc employee james marshall headcannon. /j

#the prescription will wood #the prescription zine #jimmy mushrooms #i genuinely forgot who i stole this jimmy pic from #like I've had it in my camera roll for months now but idk where it's from #if u want credit lmk!!#also how's my dogshit Photoshop job y'all??

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ch0coc4t · 1 year

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if ur talkin to me and I don’t overruse XD, 😭, bro, and 💀/☠️, always put a dash (-/—) at the end of every sentence, and send you every slightly funny YouTube short I see.. that’s not me that’s my evil twin or sum

#Talk tag #Zombu #pic isn’t mine LMAOAOA #I wish I could say where it was from to like five credit but it was deeeeep in my camera roll so idk where it came from

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luv4berry · 10 months

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my eyes only.

earth 42!miles morales x fem!reader

SUMMARY: miles belleves that you're for him and for him only, no sharing. not even with your best friend.

GENRE: angst to fluff

WARNINGS: bickering/arguing, suggestive(?), kissing, idk if this counts as toxic miles lowkey right in his anger but at the same time is he fr, jealous miles, y/n is lowkey a walking red flag, cursing, man idk

AUTHORS NOTE: the autism is rlly autisming with this movie </3

“baby you not stupid and i know you aren’t, why you acting like that?”

“miles, leave me alone.”

“nah, cause i already told you ion like him, why you still talking to him? you fuckin’ with him or sum?” he narrows his eyes at you, clasping his hands in between his legs while cocking his head to the side.

“im not having this conversation with you, call me when you done having your lil tantrum or whatever.” you ignore your boyfriend's scowl as you slide to the end of his bed and silently load everything into your coach tote bag, incoherently mumbling to yourself.

“the childish shit im talking about man.” he shakes his head, twin braids following suit. he gets out of his rolling chair, snagging the bag from your hands and holding it above his head where you can’t reach.

visibly annoyed, you roll your eyes at the tantrum he was throwing. before you had even dated him you laid down all possible icks, including your best friend. you told him how your relationship with said best friend was non-negotiable due to the significance he held in your life before miles. before miles, he was the one who you cried to, who you confined in about your family, your feelings, your insecurities. though after getting with miles you weren’t as close with him, he was still your best friend.

“miles give me my shit, don’t piss me off.”

“why? what you hiding? ain’t no way you not messing with him.”

in the stillness of his room, your phone rapidly vibrates inside your bag, miles interest immediately piqued when his fingers curve around the device, the name “dante <3” flashing on the screen.

he laughs to himself, but you knew better than to think it was a laugh of amusement. the manner of his laugh was deeply provoked, a telltale sign that it had an underlying meaning. he sends you a hard look, “so we adding hearts now too? bet.” he says while answering the facetime call.

“y/n?” dante calls out to you, the camera panned toward the ceiling, his ruffled locs in frame.

“nah she busy right now homeboy, what you want?”

“uh okay? can you ask her if she can retwist my hair this sunday?”

“nah.” he blatantly answers.

“huh?”

“dante hang up!” you call out from behind miles, to which he sends you another glare. before dante can respond miles hangs up, turning his whole body to face you. “so wassup?”

“miles give me my phone.”

“your phone? ma this our phone.” you roll your eyes once more and quickly snatch your phone from his grasp, shoving it into the tote bag and slipping your black crocs on. “don’t text my phone either.” you yell on your way out slamming his room door, silently praying that mama rio wasn’t home.

it was getting more and more difficult to manage the pit that sat in your bosom from the fight you had with your boyfriend earlier. you were used to talking to him in your dimly lit room around this time, your hands playing with the loose coils at the back of his head while saying cheesy things to each other, exchanging light pecks and subtle touches.

you groan loudly, tired of sulking to yourself you decide to get up from your bed, do your makeup and take pictures. you sit at your vanity, shuffling your playlist while opening up your makeup bag.

about 20 minutes into your routine, you hear incoherent voices coming from just outside your door. you tip toe towards the door, peaking your head out to see miles, helping your mom set the dinner table while engaging in small talk. “yeah, basketball’s good.” he says, smiling at her with all 32 pearly whites.

“y/n’s upstairs, ill call you guys down when dinners ready.” she smiles, coaxing him towards your room. you quietly shut the door, scrambling towards your vanity table, acting as if you had not witnessed the scene that took place just outside your door mere seconds ago.

you hear him quietly enter and creep up behind you, the mirror capturing his movements. you line your lips, ignoring your lovers presence even when he wraps his arms around your torso and repeatedly kisses your face.

“who you looking all fine for?”

you greet him with nothing but silence, putting your manicured finger over his lips which he attempts to bite.

“oh so it’s like that?”

“yeah, it’s like that, and I didn’t invite you over. go home.” you get up from your position, walking towards the door that he left open, closing it.

“what i told you ‘bout that mouth? you got all sorts of attitude today.” he argues, trailing behind you.

you scoff while crossing your arms, turning around and mean mugging him. you watch as he takes a moment and backs up, giving you a once over. the argument that had him so worked up earlier dissipated into thin air, his focus now on the biker shorts that hugged you a little too tight, and the cropped cami that hung a little too loosely. you watch a ghost of a smile adorn his lips.

“nasty ass.” you snap him out of his thoughts.

he snorts, taking a seat on your bed and pulling you in between his legs. “you still mad at me?” he questions you, raising his brows.

“it’s not gonna magically go away miles, you didn’t even try to apologize, showing up at my house at 8:00 kissing me and shit isn’t gonna fix anything.” it was the truth, and you weren’t backing down from it. you wanted an apology, you weren’t willing to go any further with him till you got said apology, you couldn’t push this to the side.

“y/n, baby, you know i love you but im not fucking with the way you making it look like im wrong for feeling the way i feel.” miles argued.

“because you are wrong! i told you about him before we even got together, you can’t expect me to drop him in 2 seconds just because you asked, he’s my best friend!” you argue back, keeping your voice down cautiously due to your nosy family on the other side of the door.

“no ma, im your best friend, you for my eyes only.”

“if you came here to argue with me you should just go.”

“we don’t sleep mad at eachother, we fixing this right now.” he says, dragging you into a straddling position atop him, his arms momentarily wrapping around your waist. your eyes dart around your room, refusing to make eye contact in fear of folding immediately.

“i just want you to put it this way, you got this fine ass girl, right? but then she got this ugly ass—“

“miles.” you warn him.

“… she got this boy best friend that she always on the phone with, always going out with, and she always wanna see him when you’re right there. she always talking about him, texting him when with you, answering his calls.” for the first time in a while you realize how off that sounds, maybe you had been the wrong one, though your stubborn nature made it hard to admit it.

he begins to speak again, “im not asking you to cut him off, im asking you to minimize how much you talk to him—im a guy and i know how we think. you might think y’all homeboys but he plotting on you, just think of it like that baby.” he finished while rubbing the skin of your thighs in slow tender circles.

“im sorry.” you quietly murmur under your breath into his shoulder. just barely loud enough so he can hear. but no, he had to hear this, you admitting you made a mistake.

he taps your thigh, “speak up, cant hear you.”

“you heard me, don’t be annoying.” you said when you realized his true intent, embarrassed by how you had previously acted.

miles snickered to himself, “ma?”

“yeah?”

“my fault for getting loud with you earlier, i didn’t mean to do all that.” he admitted, kissing your shoulder blade.

you remove your head from the crevice between his neck and shoulder, repeatedly giving him big smooches on the lips in acceptance of his apology which he gladly returns.

the moment is ruined by knocking on the door. you scramble off his lap which ultimately ends with you landing on the floor with a thud. snickers come from your bed, a deadpan expression immediately sweeping over your features.

“hope y’all not in there being nasty.” your mother calls out, “get decent and come downstairs to eat.”

love, berry <3

#miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #atsv miles #atsv x reader #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales

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igbylicious · 4 months

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knockout [woosan x reader]

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, boxer au, friends with benefits

summary: Wooyoung invites you over to play after San wins his latest match.

wc: 3.9k

warnings: boxer San, manager Wooyoung, threesome, consensual somnophilia (San is the one asleep), blow job, hand job, spit kink, face-sitting, cunnilingus, face-fucking, choking on cock, cumplay (eating and sharing), dirty talk, San has bruises, they use the pet names ‘baby’ and ‘good girl’ for you but no pronouns, established Woosan, San is whiny while he sleeps but gets cocky when awake, Wooyoung is a mischievous lil’ shit (affectionate) the whole way through

a/n: my first ateez fic! please consider a like/reblog if you like it (❁´◡`❁)

-☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧-

Your phone buzzes late at night, and you already know who it is before looking. You tear yourself away from the TV and check your messages, where you find a selfie from Wooyoung.

His hair is getting longer, pushed back with sunglasses resting on top of his head. (Even though it’s already dark out. Poser.) He wears a black-and-white shirt with a busy pattern and just one button too many undone, a heavy silver necklace around his neck. But all of that is just a sideshow to the main point of the selfie; Wooyoung is winking cheekily at the camera, holding up a big wad of cash. San won the match.

does this mean takeout is on you guys next time? you text him. After a brief pause you add, also congratulations i guess

(But the dismissive tone is just for show, riling each other up a natural part of your relationship with Wooyoung. You’re smiling as you press send, knowing how much a win means to him and San, how hard they work for it.)

Your phone buzzes again. you should come over

for takeout?

idk about takeout but there’s definitely a meal in it for you 😏😜😘🍆💦

You can’t decide whether to grin or roll your eyes at the message and its string of emojis at the end, but you do send Wooyoung an affirmative text back. Your face decides on a grin as you put your phone down, a spark of excitement coursing through you. Guess you’re going out tonight after all.

This thing between you and San and Wooyoung has been going on long enough that usually you don’t even bother dressing up for them anymore, but hey, it’s a special occasion, right? So you slip on some lacy underwear and wiggle into a cute dress, and do a quick check in the mirror to make sure you’re looking at least halfway decent. (Not too much fuss. Wooyoung did text you in the middle of the night.)

Just before you go, your phone buzzes one last time; Wooyoung warns you to send a text once you get to the apartment, not ring the door. At first you do not give it too much thought; they do live in a crappy old place, might just be that the doorbell is broken.

But then the added photo loads, and you see San is conked out on the couch, sitting with spread legs and his head lolled back, mouth slightly hanging open. Apparently he hasn’t even changed clothes since the match, wearing a dirty white tank top and a smattering of bruises across his tanned skin. His dark hair is a mess, pretty lips set in a natural pout while he sleeps.

Immediately, a fresh buzz of excitement surges through you. There is a whole new layer of thrill to this invitation now.

After driving over, you send Wooyoung a text that you’ve arrived. He opens the door for you with a bright grin, and puts a quick finger to his lips to indicate you have to be quiet. His sunglasses have disappeared somewhere between making a selfie and your arrival, saving him a roasting from you. He gives your dress an appreciative once-over, and casually kisses your cheek as he lets you in, resting his hand on the small of your back. His good mood is incredibly obvious, fingers brushing against the top of your ass.

You slip off your shoes and step further into the apartment. The place is a bit messy as always, furnished with a combo of thrift-shop finds, stuff they won off bets, and random things donated by friends. (Even their old van is a hand-me-down, though you have no idea where they got it from.)

The result is a home that’s chaotic, but friendly. Shelves piled with keepsakes, stories attached to everything they own. And for all the messiness, at least they do keep it somewhat clean.

There is a desk in the corner, with a few neat piles of paper money on top. Clearly Wooyoung was in the middle of counting — and accounting, his books laying open with a pen next to them. Despite all his antics, Wooyoung is actually pretty responsible with money. He knows that he needs to be, never sure when they’ll get their next win. (You suspect they run a few less-than-legal stints on the side, but neither seems too keen on making that their main gig.)

And then there is San, sitting on their old couch. Still fast asleep.

“Look how tired,” Wooyoung murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “He worked so hard today, I thought we should reward him. How about it, hm? Don’t you think he deserves a prize for taking home the victory?”

You lick your lips, a sharp craving growing in the pit of your stomach at the sight of San’s soft, sleeping face. As far as you are concerned, you are the one getting a prize here. It’s been a long time since you last had the chance to indulge in this particular kink; it can be tricky to coordinate when you don’t actually live in the same house.

And San makes such pretty noises when he’s asleep.

Wooyoung grins at the expression on your face. “Good girl,” he whispers indulgently, pressing one last kiss on your cheek before he playfully slaps your ass, pushing you towards the couch.

You glare back at him, even if the slap sent a crackle of pleasure through you. Just out of principle, to let Wooyoung know he can’t get away with everything. (He can absolutely get away with everything.)

But then you shift your focus to San, getting on your knees in front of him as quietly as possible. He usually is a deep sleeper but still, you are not about to risk waking him too early. You do take a moment to just look at him; to take in the way his broad chest moves with slow, even breaths.

The hard, battered muscles of his body are completely relaxed now, arms laying uselessly on the couch. There are marks on his knuckles, and it’s odd to think he was using those same fists to beat someone up, all for a cash prize, just a mere few hours ago. He looks so soft now. Not for the first time, you marvel at how handsome he is, the sharp cut of his jawline, pronounced cheekbones and pouty lips. So damn gorgeous, even with bruises marring his face, a particularly nasty one on the corner of his mouth. You want to kiss it, but you tuck that thought away for later.

San’s legs are already conveniently spread for you to shuffle close; could be a happy coincidence, could be that San was expecting this. Expecting you.

(This was a conversation you had long ago, where he’d given you a free pass to ‘wake’ him if an opportunity presented itself. It is entirely possible that he and Wooyoung discussed this before contacting you, and something about the idea of San falling asleep while thinking of your mouth on his dick makes you squirm in the best way.)

You press a hand against the front of his sweats, feeling the outline of his cock. You squeeze it with a light touch, give the impressive length a gentle stroke, and delight at the little “Hmm” that San sighs out.

Encouraged by the sound, you pull down the waistband of San’s sweats just enough so you can take his cock out, heavy in your hand. Still soft, though he gives a beautiful twitch when your thumb runs across a vein across the underside.

Your eyes glance up when Wooyoung sits down, just as carefully as you had been. He is slouched next to San with an arm slung across the back of the couch, fingers ghosting against San’s hair but never touching, while he raises his other hand to bite at his thumb. Uncharacteristically quiet, watching with rapt attention.

Heat pools between your thighs, you love being on display for him, teasing a sleeping San. You’re keenly aware of how your dress has ridden up, your ass sticking out, your neckline low enough for an ample view of your cleavage — though you’re sure it’s your hand that has Wooyoung’s full attention right now, wrapped around his lover’s slowly hardening dick.

You gather saliva in your mouth, then let it dribble down on your fingers and San’s cock. He moans, shifting slightly, lips parting a little wider as you take advantage of the easier slide of your palm. The sound goes right to your core; San’s moans are just a bit shallower when he is asleep, a bit more high-pitched. More needy.

More noises start to slip from his lips as you slowly stroke the length of his thick cock, thumb playing against his slit. Sometimes his hips shift to follow your movement, but he does not wake, his conscious mind unaware of your fist working him to full hardness.

San is getting beautifully flushed, a redness blooming across his cheeks and neck as he lets out a faint whimper, brow furrowed. It is always a fun game, to see how far you can take him before he wakes up — before you are treated to that toe-curling moment of aroused disorientation on San’s face, that split-second where he can’t quite figure out why he is so fucking horny until he sees you, nested between his thighs, and a sleepy yet cocky grin breaks out on his face.

But it’s not come so far yet; San is still under the hold of his tired slumber. His breath hitches as your fist twists around the head of his cock, almost like a little hiccup, precum mingling with your spit. You know you can’t hold off your impatience for much longer.

Wooyoung is still staring, though his eyes wander between San’s cock and the wiggle of your ass, his cheeky tongue dipping out to wet his lips. His gaze is heated, intense, and the slight asymmetry of his eyelids makes his stare only more attractive and striking, dotted by the little mole under his eye. He worries his bottom lip with his teeth as he watches, but grins when he catches you watching him in turn. He leans forward, elbow on his knees, and beckons for you to offer your hand.

You do so, and watch how Wooyoung decadently works his mouth and lets a thick globule of spit fall past his lips, onto your waiting palm. His grin widens when you moan weakly as his saliva mingles with yours, with San’s precum, and generously gives you more until your hand is messy and slick. Finally satisfied, Wooyoung leans back with a flirty wink.

You make good use of Wooyoung’s ‘contribution’, pumping San just a little faster now. His noises start to pick up, face contorted with unaware pleasure as a small trail of drool escapes the corner of his mouth. It won’t be long now before he wakes. Honestly, you are surprised it has lasted this long at all; San’s fight must have been particularly strenuous tonight.

Just when you contemplate whether it’s time to get your tongue involved, Wooyoung suddenly gets up from the couch.

You try not to get distracted by him moving around behind you, keeping your focus on San, but then you feel a little tap against your ass. You turn your head to see him lying on his back, head between your feet with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Lift your ass up, he mouths and gestures simultaneously.

You do exactly that, allowing Wooyoung to slide under you with his hands on your waist, his face right underneath the flimsy scrap of lace that covers your dripping core, barely worth the name ‘underwear’. “Seriously?” you whisper, though even just the sight of him, raised eyebrow and ready to eat you out, has more arousal leaking into your thong.

“Hey, San isn’t the only one who worked hard for this match,” Wooyoung whispers quietly, wetting his lips. “Don’t I deserve a reward, too?”

Well… If Wooyoung’s idea of a reward is to have you ride his face, then who are you to deny him? You really keep getting the better deal out of their hard-earned victory. Still, you roll your eyes at him, just to let him know how ridiculous you think he’s being, though the increasingly damp spot on your underwear tells Wooyoung all he needs to know.

He lets out a pleased, dark chuckle as you lower yourself down, his hands gripping tighter onto your waist as he positions you for the best angle. He does not even bother to pull the scrap of lace aside, happily eating you out through it.

San whines when your fingers squeeze around him, liquid oozing from the tip, his hips stuttering lightly before he settles back down. His cock is flushed dark, pulsing in your hand, but it is hard to focus on him right now. A lazy hand continues to stroke him while you struggle to focus on anything but Wooyoung’s muffled moans against your sopping heat.

You bite your lip to keep silent, hips moving on their own accord as Wooyoung’s nose presses against your clit, his mouth undeterred by the obstruction of lace as he makes a sloppy mess of your cunt, eagerly lapping away.

Wooyoung is rarely this quiet, but today he foregoes his usual dirty talk and running commentary to direct his full attention on reducing you to a mindless mess. He is a fiend with his mouth either way, thick swipes of his tongue and grazing teeth, mouth suckling at you through the now-ruined lace.

It takes all your self-control to stay on task, to not get distracted by the sound of a zipper, and soon after the wet noise of Wooyoung jerking himself off, still moaning against your leaking cunt. You shake yourself out of it, wrapping your lips around just the head of San’s cock, licking at the steady stream of precum while you use both hands to work his length. He twitches in your mouth, and for a moment you wonder if he’s going to cum without even waking up at all.

But then Wooyoung uses his nose to nudge your thong aside and sucks directly at your clit, and you moan loudly around San’s cock at the sudden stimuli.

San starts awake at the vibration, his hips reflexively jerking forward. You happily meet his thrust to gag on him, making San hiss a throttled curse. “F-fuck, what’s-ahhh—”

His hand flies to your hair, instinctively holding you in place. Your eyes tear up as he hits the back of your throat and stays there, but you can still glance upward to look at him — and he’s a fucking sight to behold. Bleary-eyed and disoriented, his mouth slack and panting hard for breath as he tries to get his bearings. Eyes landing on you, his cock twitching as understanding dawns. The moment is every bit as beautiful as you had imagined.

“Look who it is, Sannie,” Wooyoung grins when he notices San is awake, taking a break from tongue-fucking you. “Came over just to congratulate you. Ain’t that sweet?”

“Fuck,” San chokes out, his voice gravelly from sleep. He hisses sharply when you hollow your cheeks and give a light suck, drawing a low groan. Slowly, the sleep retreats from his eyes and is replaced by a dark alertness, though his face is still flushed, his body tired.

Lazily, he lets you continue doing what you do, only stroking your hair in encouragement as he releases you, letting you return to shallower bobs of your head. “Fuck, baby, just like that,” he groans, biting his lip. Once again, your attention is drawn to the bruise on the corner of his mouth, aching to be kissed — but your own mouth is preoccupied. Later, you promise yourself. There will be time for that later.

As expected, San’s moans are a little deeper now he is awake, slowly rocking his hips as he watches you take him further with every pass of your mouth. You wonder if he’s even aware of the difference in his sounds, or if that’s just a little secret for you and Wooyoung to know.

Speaking of Wooyoung — now that he doesn’t have to keep quiet for San, he gets talkative again. “Use me, baby,” he groans, his fingers digging into your ass. “Come on, ride me a little harder. Don’t be shy. Smear that wet pussy all over my face.”

You don’t need to be told twice, enthusiastically granting Wooyoung’s request. He moans happily as you fuck yourself on his tongue, any further words muffled between your thighs. You’d worry about whether Wooyoung can even breathe, except he has a death-grip on your hips and refuses to let you slow down. His nose repeatedly bumps into your clit, sending sparks through you every time, your moans reverberating around San.

San grunts at the feeling, voice husky and low. But as attractive as the sound is… some part of you wants to hear his whimper again. Just to see if you can make him do it.

Well. There are a few sure-fire ways you know to push San to the very limit and beyond — and one of them is immediately available to you.

He was already pushing deep inside your mouth, but you do your best to relax your throat and surge forward, your nose brushing his pelvis as you choke yourself on his cock, then pull back to do it again. And again. A lewd, wet gurgle filling the room every time, your throat constricting as you strain around his thick shaft, tears burning in your eyes.

San groans at your renewed efforts, a greed shining in his sharp eyes when he realises what you’re doing, what you are asking him to do. His fingers scrape your scalp as they embed tighter around the strands of hair. Recognising the unspoken invitation to fuck your mouth as hard as he wants.

“That’s it,” he growls, “you know how I like it. Choke on my cock, hm? I’ll stuff you until you can’t breathe.”

You can barely breathe already; it’s hard to pull in air through your nose like this, with San steadily rocking his hips forward. You go slack in his hold, just letting him use you to his liking, trying to curl your tongue around the underside of his cock in the way you know drives him up the wall.

Wooyoung makes a noise when you slump down on his face, and you try to catch yourself but he won’t have it, only sucking more eagerly onto your clit as he grabs onto your thighs to keep you in place. You moan loudly, and San curses in response, his breath getting pitchy.

It’s working, you realise. It’s not as much as when he is asleep, but slowly a whiny lilt creeps into San’s voice as he uses your throat, his face contorted with pained pleasure.

Your head starts to spin, the barrage of sensations threatening to overwhelm you. Slick sounds and deep moans, a heady scent of arousal permeating the air. San’s cock obstructing your breath, his little whines; Wooyoung’s tongue nimbly flicking against your clit, his hands squeezing at the soft meat of your thighs. You’re tilting, slowly but surely, right over the edge when Wooyoung sucks harshly, exactly when San whimpers.

It hits you like a freight train, the violent force of it enough to have you sobbing around San’s cock. You tremble and shake as electricity surges through you, only held up by San and Wooyoung’s hold on you.

Your garbled cries take San over the edge with you, though he still has enough restraint to pull back slightly, no longer nudging against your gag reflex. He shudders with a tight hiss, clumsy fingers catching in your hair as he spills hot seed inside your mouth.

You almost choke again; it’s messy, and there is a lot, leaving you to wonder if San has been abstaining before the match. Lately you certainly haven’t done more with them than casual texts or hangouts, but can make no assumptions about what he and Wooyoung get up to when you’re not around.

You try your best not to swallow it down — and not spill a single drop, either. At the latter, you don’t succeed entirely, a thin wet trail dribbling down your lips when San pulls out and slumps back onto the couch with a final, loud groan. But when Wooyoung gets out from underneath to sit next to you, and pushes a thumb on your bottom lip to show him, you can proudly stick out your tongue to him, sticky whiteness on display.

“Good girl,” Wooyoung purrs, fondly cupping your cheek. “Don’t even need me to tell you anymore, huh? So well-behaved for us.”

You moan contently at the praise, and again when Wooyoung eagerly puts his lips on you, sloppily lapping up San’s cum from your chin, your lips, until his tongue invades your mouth for a proper meal. You can taste yourself on him while Wooyoung tastes San, who is watching it all with a small, cocky grin, teeth flashing at you.

Wooyoung lets out a needy moan as he drinks deep, his tongue sliding against yours in a heady dance. He grabs for your hand, guiding you down to his still-hard cock, hot and weeping precum. Your fingers are still messy and slick, making it easy for you to jerk him off while he continues to hungrily kiss you, licking up every last drop he can reach.

It’s less of a challenge to make Wooyoung whimper, but the sound is no less exciting for it, his high-pitched moans like music to your ears. He cums messily in your hand, some spilling onto your dress. With a final bite to your bottom lip, he pulls away from your mouth, eyes heavy-lidded and looking thoroughly fucked out, lips swollen and shiny from the essences of both you and San. You grin at him, lifting your hand to suck his cum off your fingers.

Only then do you turn to San, who is indulging himself with slow strokes on his cock while he still watches you and Wooyoung intently.

“Congratulations on the match,” you say casually, cum-stained fingers lingering on your lips.

San’s grin returns to his face and he grabs your hand to pull you into his lap…where you finally get to kiss that bruise on the corner of his mouth. He winces as you press up to him, and you can hear Wooyoung grouse next to you.

“Be careful with him, alright? That’s my meal ticket you got there,” he complains, dusting himself off as he gets back on his feet.

But San wraps his arms around you, keeping you captive. “You don’t have to be that careful,” he murmurs against your mouth, his hands firmly planted on your ass as he grinds you against his crotch. The night is not over quite yet.

-☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧-

An indeterminate time and a thorough shower later, you are sitting snugly between San and Wooyoung on their shabby old couch. They graciously borrowed you some clothes, leaving you cosily wrapped in a pair of San’s sweats and one of Wooyoung’s oversized hoodies. In your hands you have freshly delivered takeout, enjoying a hot meal together with the guys.

Their treat, of course.

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sailoryooons · 3 months

Text

Bust | KTH | (m)

☾ Pairing: Heistman!Taehyung x f. Reader

☾ Summary: Seeing a beautiful man in the middle of a bank robbery is unusual. Seeing him again afterward is even more unlikely… and yet not unlucky.

☾ Word Count: 2,211

☾ Genre: Criminal, Smut, PWP

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Bank robbery, light depiction of fear/anxiety, mentions of poor financial situations and money-related stress, recreational drinking, ‘good girl’ petname, explicit language, sexually explicit content including oral (f. receiving), biting, spanking, implied body worship kind of, a hint of overstim, bodily fluids and cum-eating.

☾ Published: Monday, January 15, 2024

☾ A/N: This is an idea I randomly spoke about forever ago in a TikTok DM with @gimmethatagustd and this is strictly written to ruin their entire life tonight. I hope it works idk osifodigjoijg.

☾ A/N 2: Tonight is number four for my 100 Drabble Challenge and I rolled number 24 for criminals! I hope you enjoy my depraved thoughts of Taehyung in that GOD DAMN SQUID GAME OUTFIT AT PTD. MY MASK KINK DOESN’T MAKE AN APPEARANCE BUT BE FUCKING SURE IT WILL ONE DAY. HE MADE ME INSANE.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Song Inspiration ☾

Sweat beads down your back, the trickle of it slower than the clock ticking above your head. Time seems to slow as you sit on a carpet that hasn’t been steam cleaned since the 80s and push yourself against the wall, eyes glued to the open vault.

It had happened so fast and yet now, it’s like it can’t be over fast enough. Each second that ticks by feels like it takes a year. You cannot hear the chatter of the men inside the vault, but their harsh whispers raise goosebumps on your skin.

At least they haven’t noticed you. Not that you would do much, anyway. You have no intention of going over to push the alarm by the door, too afraid to alert the armed man who stands just outside the vault room on the other side, and far too underpaid to risk your life for a financial institution.

For a moment, you wish it were you robbing the damned bank. Maybe you could pay off the student loans on your degree you’re not using and run the heating in your apartment during the winter instead of bundling up in several layers.

Your momentary lapse of delusion passes as the men rush out of the vault, duffles in hand. They’re all dressed in red, black masks covering their faces with shapes on them. You’re vaguely aware that the costume belongs to some sort of show you saw online, but you can’t place them.

Perhaps you’ll watch it now.

“Hurry up,” one of the men barks toward the vault. There had been three inside, but only two came out. “Grab the last and let’s go. Two minutes left.”

They’re gone in an instant. Your eyes dart back to the vault where you can hear the last person inside. Glancing at the clock, you watch the seconds tick by.

Ten seconds. Fifteen. Thirty. A minute.

A man dressed in a red suit, hood pulled over his head comes out of the vault. As he slugs it shut with one arm, the bag on his shoulder droops, spilling the contents inside out onto the floor. Bands of cash fall out, thudding around his feet. He swears loudly and bends over, back slipping more to drop cash on the ground.

In his frustration, he crouches and tips the mask up a fraction, shielding his face from the camera above but not from you, huddled on the floor a few feet away.

Your heart skips. The thief is beautiful. Dark eyes focused on his task, a wide nose that fits perfectly on a symmetrical face with high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a pursed mouth. There’s a flush in his face from the heat, the tip of his nose an endearing shade of rose.

As if sensing your gaze, his head snaps up. You cower against the wall, realizing now that you’ve seen his face, you’ve doomed yourself. He stalls completely, gloved hand hovering over the cash, eyes boring into you. He arches a brow as if to ask you a question and you respond by shaking your head.

The thief gives you a cocky grin, nodding before he finishes picking up the money and tossing it into the bag. He looks at you again, a smirk on full display before he winks and pulls the mask back down. “Good girl,” he purrs. “I like that.”

Despite the situation, your stomach flips. He stands and rushes out, lingering by the door for a second longer to stare at you through the black mask. You can’t see his face, but you know you’ll never forget it, pretty as an angel, dangerous as a devil.

When the group is gone, you wait in silence, only the pumping of your heart to keep you company. When the cops come and ply you with questions all you can do is shake your head repeatedly.

I was too scared. I can’t remember.

It is the same thing you tell investigators for nearly two months. Just when you think they won’t keep asking what the man looked like, they finally drop it, handing over the robbery details to the FBI. They were at least a little less callous, caring a little less about how many questions you answered.

If you had to guess, your unimpressive financial situation even after the robbery was significant enough that you weren’t involved with the robbery.

It’s hard not to wish you had been. The straw in your mouth belongs to a drink that is far too expensive for you to not wince and it barely tastes like anything. At this rate, you know you won’t get a buzz. You’d love alcohol to take the edge off of the loud club music or loosen you up a bit, but you’re resigned to being sober for the rest of your friend's birthday.

Around you is a gaggle of men and women, both people you know and new faces trying to pick up your friends. Anyone trying to hit on you has already decided you’re far too grumpy to waste time on, most of their backs facing you as people shout over the music about working in finance.

You wonder if they also rob banks in their spare time. It makes you grin, thinking fondly about the thief once again. You do that a lot.

Sipping the drink, you glance at your phone. It’s been an hour since you arrived, but you’re wondering if enough time has reasonably passed to excuse yourself. Tomorrow is one of your few days off and you intend to spend it lounging on the couch watching TV instead of nursing a headache.

Someone slides into the space at the bar next to you. You don’t glance up at them, spinning your skinny cocktail straw absently as you stare at the melted ice of your Long Island iced tea. You hoped that once it melted it would turn into a second drink, but it hasn’t. Cold, bitter water it is, then.

“Why the long face?” You frown at the vaguely familiar voice and glance up, freezing.

Mr. Bank Robber looks down at you, cocking his head to the side with a wolfish grin. Your mouth pops open in surprise, leaning back a little as you drink him in. This close, he is far more beautiful than you remember, the edges and shadows of his face like a carefully painted fresco. Michelangelo could hardly be talented enough to capture this.

“You,” you whisper, his grin spreading further.

“Have we met?” he leans on the bar, dressed in all black. You eye the three-piece suit and the glinting diamonds in the cuff links. His clothes are far finer than anything anyone else is wearing and when you breathe in sharply, you smell a hint of woody cologne. His dark hair is slicked back and you catch the dainty hoop earrings in his lobes. You like the juxtaposition.

“You know we have.” He tongues the inside of his cheek, turning his head to order with the bartender. His eyes stray to you, raising a brow. You supply him with your answer, “A long island.”

The bartender nods, momentarily stupefied by the heistman’s beauty before walking over to the POS, tapping the screen with the speed and aggression unique to bartenders.

“Kind of a shitty club,” he mentions, looking around over the top of your head. Sweat clings to your lower back, your mouth growing dry as you watch colors splash on his face. “Your face is too pretty for a place like this.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm.” The bartender puts the drinks on the counter and the man gives him cash, signaling to keep the change. The bartender raises a brow but says nothing, taking the money as he goes. “What’s your name?”

“You probably already know it.” He cocks his head to the side. “I’m sure you looked me up to see if I was a threat or watched me to see what I’d do.”

“You watch too many heist movies.”

“Maybe I watch just enough.”

He laughs at that and your lips twitch. It’s rich, making his face intimidating as he gives you a wide smile and shakes his head. “Alright, maybe you’re right.”

“Can I know your name?”

“For the right price.”

“My silence was a pretty petty, no?”

He bites his bottom lip, eyes dipping down and back up. You sip your drink, feeling a flush of warmth unfurl in your body, most notably between your legs. “I like you.”

“You have to like me. I know your secret.”

Leaning forward, he ducks down so that he’s murmuring into your ear, hot breath ghosting your skin and making you tremble. “Want to hear more?” Your eyelids flutter as he waits, skin buzzing at his sudden proximity. You nod, feeling lightheaded. “My name is Taehyung. Want to get out of here?”

“Fuck,” Taehyung growls, hands skimming your bare sides. You can’t keep still under his gaze, hips squirming and fingers twisting in the sheets. His mouth is swollen and covered in your spit, his eyes blown as a large hand scrapes down to your thigh where he gives you a good slap. “I knew you were a good girl.”

A moan trips out of your mouth. Your thigh stings where he slapped you but he soothes it with the easy back-and-forth motion of his hand, his fingers digging into your flesh. Taehyung is a man starved, having littered your body with harsh kisses and bites, nearly breaking the skin.

You don’t care. You’re feverish for him, room spinning as you sprawl on his soft sheets in a hotel room that is far nicer than anything you’ve ever been in. You burn up like a star, core raging as Taehyung leans back down, pressing your naked thighs open for him as he sucks the skin of your chest between his teeth.

Everything aches. You want him so bad that you feel a cry come out of your mouth, lips wobbling as he laughs against your skin, sinking lower and lower, mouth loud as he sucks at your skin, tongue brushing over the sting of his teeth.

“Does my good girl need her pussy eaten?” Taehyung rasps, looking up at you where he kneels between your legs. “Is that why you’re crying, hmm?”

Taehyung looks like something out of a thriller. His eyes are dark and hungry, his shadowed face becoming some sort of demon of lust. He’s what you would imagine a dark god. A bacchanal devil, a creature made for sin.

All you can do is nod in response, feeling Taehyung’s vicious grip on your thighs as he presses you further, your muscles stretching. The strain feels good, as does the slow drip of your cunt down the curve of your ass mixed with his breath.

“So messy,” he murmurs, leaning forward and blowing cool air on your sticky folds. You squirm, the sensation sending you into overdrive as you twist your head to the side, eyes squeezed shut. He’s barely done a thing and you’re worked up more than you can ever recall. “Pretty.”

The slow, soft press of Taehyung’s tongue through your pussy makes you sag. It’s the relief that you so desperately needed, eyes rolling back as he circles your clit and drags his tongue back down. Taehyung is slow as he eats you out, tongue savoring every drop you can give him.

He taps your thigh, drawing your attention to him. He smirks as his tongue dips into your entrance, dragging back up to swirl around your throbbing bud a few times.

It’s impossible to tear your eyes away once you’re watching. Taehyung keeps his razor-sharp gaze on you, bringing his mouth fully to your cunt as he sucks eagerly. There is a rhythm to the curl of his tongue and the sharp suck of his lips, the wet smack of his ministrations driving you crazy.

“Mmm,” he hums, pressing his face in further. He’s messy with it, his jaw and nose covered in shiny slick. He laughs throatily when your back comes off the bed, thighs shaking. “Such a good pussy, just like I knew it would be.”

It feels too hot in the room. Your breaths are coming in too fast and there’s nothing you can do to catch it, Taehyung working you up to a frenzied, frenetic orgasm. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, pumping so hard that you think you might need to stop.

And then you break.

Your body seizes as you come, a scream ripping through your mouth as Taehyung slurps hungrily at your mess, spurred by your release. You can’t stop shaking as he dives in, unwilling to stop until you’re babbling, nearly lifeless as the orgasm teeters into overstimulation.

Only then does Taehyung pull his mouth away, trailing wet, cum-spit kisses on your inner thigh, nipping your thigh here and there.

“Think you can take more?” he asks, slurring his words against your thigh. “Think you can take my cock.”

You nod eagerly, hand letting go of the sheets and reaching toward him. “Yes.”

“Mmm good. I’m about to bust.” He bites your knee. “And I don’t mean a bank, this time.”

#taehyung smut #kim taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #v smut #bts v

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pixiesfz · 3 months

Note

would you write for alexia putellas?

okay I always find it hard to write for Alexia but I finally thought of a good plot

inspired by Olivia Rodrigo's unaired song

prison for life a.p

plot: you've always been independent in life but when Alexia walks in you cant help but want her to protect you.

warning: idk

You sat in front of an interviewer in front of the goal posts as he asked questions about your new signing to Barcelona FC.

"So what caused the change from United to here?" he asked and you smiled "Change of scenery I think, there is nothing wrong with the club and I cherish every memory I have there" The interviewer nodded his head "So you don't feel for the comments saying you are moving just to get wins under your belt?" he asked slowly, almost as if he was scared to ask the question.

Your eyes slightly squinted at him but you leaned back as you remembered it is only his job "I'm a big girl" you smirked "I'm not going to listen to comments left on my Instagram because they're not the ones controlling my movements, I am" you said with a nod.

The interviewer smiled, impressed with your answer as the camera stopped rolling "You're very good with the media" he complimented you as he packed up his set "thanks" you smiled before returning to practice.

As you reached the other side of the pitch Keira turned to you "any personalized questions?" she asked and you shrugged "talked a little bit about the rumors of why I moved but that's all" Keira nodded "I will say in this team you get asked more personal questions so I'm here if you need" she suggested and you nodded "I'll be fine" you reassured her "yeah?" she asked "I'm good at protecting myself".

You had moved to Barcelona for a change of scenery but to also spend more time with your girlfriend Alexia who lived and breathed the club.

She was injured at the moment so she wasn't at a lot of the trainings and would appear at some games, she was very protective but you knew that... to an extent.

Your whole life you had protected yourself from the prying eyes of others and didn't rely on anyone else so whenever someone offered to help you, you always declined.

They didn't need to, you had yourself sorted.

But as your early weeks turned into months at Barcelona more interviewers and fans started asking more questions and players on the pitch were starting to recognize some of your go to traits which ended in more tackles, risky tackles.

You had never played in the same team as Alexia yet but as she was getting better and sat on the bench you saw her eyes darken whenever a tackle on you was played.

When the game ended you walked over to the bench where she sat and took the water bottle she had out for you "you know if looks could kill Ellie Carpenter would be six feet under" you joked as the girl had slide tackled you at least five times during the game.

"I don't like it when they try and hurt you" she shrugged and you smiled, leaning over to place her hair behind her ear "it's apart of the game Ale, it's her job and she is good at it." you told the blonde and she rolled her eyes "they hurt you, I hurt them" she shrugged before walking off into the change rooms.

You stayed in your place as you watched her go.

"She's so protective of you" Mapi scoffed as she watched your interaction with Ingred "you know it wouldn't hurt if you were that protective over me" Ingred teased "Alexia would go to prison for life if anyone laid a finger on her"

You furrowed your eyebrows at the couple as they walked away from you still babbling about how Mapi could be more protective of Ingred.

You looked around the crowd before walking around to say hello and sign t-shirts for the crowd.

You always did the lap, some girls stopped every now and then because some of the fans could be too much but you were always good, protecting yourself when something would go too far.

But when a man tried to convince you to take off your playing shirt and give it to him you thought about Mapi's words.

You wish you had Alexia here to protect you.

But you had never invited her too, always making excuses for people or sticking up for yourself.

You knew you could protect yourself but you wouldn't mind Alexia saving you.

You bid the man farewell as he groaned at your non-willingness to take off the top.

When you went home that night you took another hot shower as Alexia cooked dinner you couldn't stop smiling over the fact that Alexia cared so much about you.

When you got out of the shower and changed, you went to the kitchen and wrapped your arms around Alexia's toned stomach.

"comfortable?" she asked and you nodded "very" Alexia laughed "almost done, go put something on the TV" she suggested and you nodded, kissing her back which was covered by a singlet and walking to the couch and picking a television show.

You sat in the corner as you waited for Alexia, your mind wondering into situations where Alexia could save you and how her arms could hold you oh her arms-

"penny for your thoughts?" Alexia said as she put your plate down in front of you "not thinking much" you shrugged and Alexia rolled her eyes "I know when something is on your mind amor" she said and you ducked your head into your arms out of embarrassment.

"It's silly"

"I doubt it is" Alexia moved closer to you and picked up your head with her fingers so you would face her "are you okay?"

"I'm fine I just-" you stopped yourself and Alexia nodded for you to go along.

"Well my whole life I've always stood up for myself and solved my all problems" you started and Alexia nodded "I know, it's one of the things I love about you"

You blushed as she kissed your cheek "And today when I saw your eyes on the pitch and then what you said after the game I realized that I can also allow you to protect me" you said softly

"And I just really like the fact that I have you and that you care about me so much to even suggest hurting someone who hurt me" you laughed at the end.

"I would do more than just hurt them" Alexia quipped and you smirked "would you say you would end up going to prison?" you asked, thinking of Mapi's comment from earlier.

"For life".

#woso x reader #woso #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader

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theemporium · 8 months

Note

poly drivers (literally any idk they can all take me to Paris) reacting to a media personnel making a comment about reader… 👀👀

a mood💀thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

“My next question goes to the two fellas on the right.”

You pressed your lips together to try and bite back your smile as you watched Max subtly roll his eyes as he reached for his microphone.

It never failed to amuse you how much the boy hated media duties, even after so many years being involved with the sport. He hated it, he thought it was a waste of time, and if he could avoid it, he would.

Meanwhile, Charles sat next to him with a charming smile on his face. Despite his questionable acting skills, he was a performer in front of the cameras. He seemed to naturally know what people wanted to hear, what they wanted to hear from him. He seemed to have the media stuff under lock and key after so many years of having a camera shoved in his face.

And conferences like this one—where both your boys were in one group—were your absolute favourite to watch. Just seeing the mere difference in the men you loved never failed to entertain you.

But as quickly as your good mood came, it quickly dropped when you heard the reporter's question.

“Do you think sharing the same woman has helped your relationship on track or made it worse?”

Your stomach dipped as the room fell silent, only the clicking of cameras and scribbling of pens on notepads could be heard. You didn’t care about the other journalists gawking at you, or even the other drivers on the couch. Your eyes were firmly glued to your boys.

Charles was frowning, a look mixed with shock and disbelief written across his face. Your boy in red liked to see the best in people, expect the best in people. And you could actively see his brain trying to work around the question to see if he just misunderstood what the man had just asked.

But Max was a different story.

His face was stoic and the glare he sent the reporter was almost bone-chilling. You honestly expected him to storm off, or even throw something at the reporter—to act out in the way you knew he was constantly scolded about by the Red Bull PR team.

What you weren’t expecting was for Charles to be the first one to speak.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The shock and surprise was clear on everybody’s face as Charles straightened up in his seat, his brows furrowed as he stared at the reporter in disgust. The man opened his mouth to speak, to probably defend himself, but Charles didn’t give him the chance.

“No, seriously, who do you think you are?” Charles continued, his accent coming out a little thicker as he spoke. “We are racers. This is our job. Our relationship has nothing to do with anything, and it’s disrespectful that you would even bring it up, let alone talk about our girlfriend like she’s an object. She’s a human, unlike whatever you are.”

You stood there, mouth agape at the words that just came out of your boyfriend’s mouth.

However, Max almost looked proud before he lifted the microphone to his lips.

“You’re a fucking dickhead, have fun completely ending your career,” he stated simply with a smug look on his face before he dropped the microphone, not even bothering to listen to the media managers as they scrambled to get him to sit back down as he walked out with Charles following.

Your cheeks burned as everyone turned to look at you, but you didn’t pay them any attention as you quickly slid out of the conference room. You barely made it three steps out the door before you felt an arm winding around your waist and tugging you towards a hard body, the smell of Charles’ cologne hitting you seconds later.

“Amour,” he murmured as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping tightly around you like he was scared you would disappear. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“Shh, it’s not your fault,” you cooed as you wrapped your arms around him, your fingers running through the hair on the nape of his neck as his body sagged against yours. “You were quite bold in there.”

“Didn’t like the way they were talking about us,” he grumbled.

You lifted your head when you spotted Max a few steps away, the smug look still painted across his face as he reached for you, his hand placed on the small of your back.

“Personally, I think that was the best conference I have ever been a part of,” Max commented with a shrug, his smile widening a little when he saw you snort.

“Be nice,” you chastised.

“I am,” he defended. “It was hot.”

“It was,” you agreed, and Charles’ arms tightened around you.

“Let’s get him fired,” Charles said suddenly as he lifted his head to look at you both, trying to ignore the fact his cheeks were burning at your words.

“I think he did that fine on his own,” Max said.

“No, I want him fired,” Charles frowned. “I don’t want to see him near a paddock ever again.”

“Okay, calm down,” you murmured as you ran your hands up and down his back. “Let’s just get out of here and let you cool down before you do something irrational. I think you’re on an adrenaline high.”

“I don’t like people who say things about us, about you,” Charles huffed.

You smiled as you leaned up, pressing a lingering kiss against his pouting lips. “And I appreciate that very much, baby.”

“Our knight in shining armour,” Max teased, only to wince a little when you pinched his side. “Kidding, schatz, I love you both.”

“Better,” you grinned before pecking his lips too. “Let’s stop by the Red Bull motorhome before we head back to the hotel, I want more of those churros.”

Max snorted. “Whatever you want.”

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